The roof of the school was quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that felt lifeless, but the sort that carried with it weight—the kind that held its breath. From here, Jin could see most of the territory: the central field, the winding paths that threaded through the overgrown campus, and past that, the edges of the forest, where trees stood tall like guardians carved in green and shadow. Vines curled across the walls now, but they didn't choke. They shaped. Supported. Rebuilt.
He stepped over the loosened metal railing and into his usual spot near the far corner, where a cluster of root-thick growth had formed a sort of natural half-wall. The ground beneath was no longer cement—at least, not fully. Moss had taken over, weaving together cracks and old scorch marks with gentle patience.
Jin let out a slow breath and set his pack down beside him. In it was what could generously be called his "rooftop hammock attempt #6." The last five had all failed—spectacularly. Usually within minutes.
