Chapter24 — After the Bell Rings
The last bell of the day echoed through the halls — sharp, bright, and familiar.
Students poured out of classrooms like a tide, laughter spilling down the stairways.
For most, it was the start of freedom.
For Aira, it was the start of wondering.
She waited for the crowd to thin before slipping through the side door and climbing the narrow stairway to the rooftop. The metal handle was cool against her palm — she pushed it open with a soft creak.
The world above was awash in orange.
Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, the setting sun painting them gold.
And there — leaning casually against the fence, wind playing with her white hair — stood Rimuru.
"Skipping the post-bell stampede again?" Rimuru called without turning.
Her voice carried that usual teasing lilt — calm, light, and just a little too knowing.
Aira smiled faintly. "You say that like you weren't doing the same thing."
Rimuru turned then, her blue eyes catching the light.
"Touché," she said, smiling. "But in my defense, I'm allergic to crowds. And normalcy."
Aira laughed. "You? Normal? Not in this lifetime."
"See? You do get me." Rimuru's grin widened, but there was a gentleness behind it this time — softer, less guarded.
The wind tugged at her sleeve. Her gaze drifted toward the horizon.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air was warm, carrying faint echoes of laughter from below.
Then Aira said quietly, "You've been acting strange lately."
Rimuru tilted her head. "Define strange. My existence is a spectrum of that."
Aira stepped closer, crossing her arms. "You've been tired. And don't say it's from staying up late again. I saw your hand shaking in class."
Rimuru blinked. "Shaking? Must've been the cold."
"It's October."
"Exactly," Rimuru said with mock seriousness. "Peak hand-tremble season."
Aira sighed, but couldn't stop the smile tugging at her lips. "You're impossible."
"Admit it — that's my charm."
The teasing tone eased the air between them again. For a while, they just stood there — quiet, watching the colors shift in the sky. The golden light brushed over Rimuru's face, highlighting the edges of her grin, the way her hair shimmered almost silver.
But then — Aira noticed it.
A flicker.
The sunlight caught her eyes wrong — and for half a second, they weren't just blue. They burned faintly red, like a reflection of something not meant for this world.
Aira's breath caught.
But before she could speak, Rimuru turned away, chuckling softly. "Sunlight trick," she said, waving it off.
Aira wanted to believe her.
Almost did.
Instead, she leaned against the fence beside her, pretending not to notice how Rimuru's shoulders slumped just slightly when she thought no one was looking.
"I'm serious," Aira said softly after a while. "You can tell me if something's wrong."
Rimuru's eyes softened — not with sadness, but something heavier. "If I told you, you'd worry."
"I already do."
That earned a small laugh — one that wasn't playful this time, but real. Warm. Honest.
Rimuru reached out and ruffled Aira's hair, the gesture light but lingering.
"Then I guess I'll have to laugh harder," she said quietly. "So you don't forget how to smile."
Aira looked up at her — the grin, the glow, the impossible calm that Rimuru carried like armor.
She wondered how long that armor could hold.
The sky dimmed to violet. The city lights began to blink awake below.
And for a little while, they just stayed there — side by side, saying nothing.
Rimuru hummed something under her breath — a tune Aira didn't recognize, half lullaby, half memory.
It sounded like a promise trying not to break.
---
When the first star appeared, Rimuru finally said, "Let's get going before Mina and Tessa report us missing."
Aira laughed softly, turning toward the door. "They'd probably assume you kidnapped me."
Rimuru flashed her a grin. "Technically not off the table."
"Rimuru!"
Her laughter echoed across the rooftop — light, beautiful, and just a little hollow at the edges.
As they left, the wind brushed past, carrying that same soft hum Aira had felt before — faint, almost musical.
Only this time, it sounded less like danger.
And more like a heartbeat.