The roof was thankfully quiet, and a place where dazzling sunlight pursued the students of Nanakamado relentlessly, for there was no place of profound darkness. It was almost the time that the sun would be in high noon. Kouchisei was seated alone on one of the few benches kept close to the railing. A napkin and bento box were resting on top of his lap, the fabric dangling over his legs that moved backwards and forwards in idleness. There was no peace because there was no certainty if he would last. Kiriko had been called for advice, and he wouldn't be lying if he said the thought of dealing with her was akin to despair.
Kiriko would think he didn't know how to love someone, he believed; she'd be right. He didn't want this to make Kozue happy so muh as to keep her happy.