The rooftop was quiet. The kind of quiet that feels like the world itself has paused just to exhale. The wind was softer now, brushing past them like a gentle warning that night was about to take over the sky. Buildings far below buzzed with life, cars honking, people shouting, screens glowing from windows like fireflies in a city of steel and sin.
Kikidori sat with his arms resting on his knees, wings stretched behind him lazily, like a cat sunbathing. His cigarette had long burned down to the filter, and he hadn't bothered to light another. Haruna was sitting cross-legged beside him, eyes trained on the horizon where the sun was slowly bleeding orange and red across the clouds. For a minute, they didn't speak. Just watched.
It was weird. Not awkward. Not tense. Just… weird.
"I like this time of day," Haruna said finally, voice soft. "It's calm."
"Yeah," Kikidori muttered. "The calm before the humans start getting drunk and stab each other over Black Friday TVs."
She glanced at him, a small amused exhale passing her lips. "Is that what you think of Earth?"
"No," he said. "That's what Earth *is*."
Silence again. A plane passed far above, looking like a silver needle sewing the last bit of light into the evening sky.
Haruna looked down at the streetlights beginning to glow one by one like timid stars. "So… what's Hell like?"
Kikidori didn't even hesitate. He didn't turn to her. He just stared out at the glowing dusk and said, casually, "Oh, it's awesome. Yesterday I saw a kid demon get thrown into magma as the others made entertainment out of his screams."
Haruna's entire body stiffened. "What the—"
"Relax," Kikidori said, finally smirking. "He didn't die. He's a demon. You know. Fireproof and all that shit. It was more like watching a game of dodgeball, but with lava and trauma."
Haruna's eyes narrowed. "That's not funny."
"Didn't say it was. You asked what Hell's like. That's what Hell's like." He cracked his neck, leaned back on his palms, and looked up at the darkening sky. "Pain's a fucking sport down there. Suffering is currency. The worse your day is, the more respect you get. The more people scream your name in agony, the more they put you on a pedestal. It's like the Oscars, but bloodier."
Haruna stared at him. "And you… like that?"
He shrugged. "It's home. You don't have to like your home to live in it."
She didn't know what to say to that.
Kikidori looked at her. "What about you? Heaven still handing out cloud-shaped cookies and singing kumbaya while braiding each other's halos?"
Haruna smiled weakly. "We don't braid halos. But… it's peaceful. Too peaceful sometimes. Like nothing ever *changes*. It's always bright. Always warm. Everyone's always smiling. No arguments. No slip-ups. No mess."
"So… fake."
"No," she said softly. "Just… perfect. But sometimes perfect is… exhausting."
Kikidori raised a brow. "Coming from Miss Sunshine-and-Redemption, that's one hell of a confession."
She looked away. "Don't read into it."
"I already am," he teased. "Next thing you know you're gonna start cussing again and telling me how boring golden palaces are."
Haruna gave him a look. "Don't push it."
Kikidori grinned. "Fine. You can keep pretending your life doesn't feel like one long episode of a sitcom no one wants to cancel."
She didn't respond, but he saw the faint twitch of her lips. The sunset had burned its last colors away, and now the night settled in fully. The stars blinked through the darkness, distant and uncaring.
"Still want to talk," he asked, "or are we gonna keep playing this weird celestial therapy session?"
Haruna lay back against the roof tiles. "This was fine."
Kikidori tilted his head. "That's it?"
"Yes."
"Well. Fuck."
"Language."
"Right. Sorry, angel. Didn't mean to corrupt your precious airwaves."
She rolled her eyes but smiled.
And for the first time in… a long time, neither of them wanted to leave just yet.
The end of Chapter 24.