Peace

The sun was sharp and golden over the school rooftop, glinting off the chain link fence and casting long lines across the rooftop terrace. Somewhere down below, a whistle blew, and a soccer ball thudded against the field fence. But up here, all was breeze, sky, and the rustling of bento wrappers and uniform skirts in the wind.

Nadeshiko had kicked off her shoes the moment they got there. She always did, bare feet on warm rooftop tiles felt more alive. She leapt up onto the bench with that same unfiltered, wild energy she brought to everything, her grin bright like sunlight flashing off glass. Her short black hair fluttered in the wind, and her tanned skin shone with a healthy glow.

“Na-chan,” Chisato said from behind the lens of her school camera, her voice full of fond exasperation, “we're supposed to get some yearbook shots. Can you just, I don’t know, sit normal for five seconds?”

“Normal is boring,” Nadeshiko chirped, then spun on the bench, her legs swinging upward in one fluid arc. “You want a pose? I’ll give you a pose!”

Her legs lifted higher, balanced perfectly as her core tensed and she extended upward with practiced ease, spine curving in a strong arch. With a flick of her feet, she splayed her toes and formed a perfect double peace sign, flexing each digit to angle the V’s. Her skirt fluttered again as gravity tipped it, revealing the edge of her shorts, tight, clingy, riding high on her thighs, and the toned shape of her legs as they hovered in the air like a gymnast’s.

Then she stuck her tongue out, winked exaggeratedly, and made a sound halfway between a raspberry and a mock kiss. “Nyehhh~!”

“Wha!” Chisato nearly dropped the camera. “That’s going in the outtakes.”

“You better not,” Nadeshiko shot back, still grinning, her brow furrowed in exaggerated effort as she wiggled her toes to keep the pose stable. “This is peak yearbook content. Spirit of youth and all that.”

It was so outrageous, so wildly Nadeshiko, that Chisato couldn’t help laughing as she clicked the shutter.

Snap.

“I swear,” Chisato said, peeking at the preview screen. “You’re the only person who could make that look cool instead of just... freaky.”

“Because I am cool,” Nadeshiko said, flipping down her legs with a gymnast’s ease and landing lightly with her bare feet on the bench. “Born without arms, raised on pure attitude. You know how it is.”

She leaned forward, balanced perfectly on her hips, and took a sip from her juice box using her toes, straw pinched expertly between her big toe and the one beside it.

Chisato watched, as always, with a little bit of awe. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Compliments will get you more poses,” Nadeshiko teased, nudging the edge of her bento box open with her foot. She dipped her toes inside with surgical precision, plucking a rice ball and bringing it up to her mouth like a crane machine that actually worked. “C’mon. Take a candid. Me vs onigiri.”

Chisato just shook her head, grinning. The camera shutter clicked again. And again. And again. The wind tugged Nadeshiko’s short hair as she chewed with an overdone samurai expression, eyes squinting like she was in the middle of a duel. She twisted mid-bite and lifted one leg up toward the sky again, showing off her flexibility and the hem of her skirt fluttering higher over her shorts.

“Tell me that’s not the spirit of youth,” she mumbled around sticky rice, still grinning like she’d just won something.

“You’re gonna give the yearbook committee a heart attack,” Chisato said, finally lowering the camera. “You realize half the girls in our grade won’t even go near the roof because they don’t want wind to mess up their hair?”

“Should I start charging for roof access?” Nadeshiko asked brightly. “Or maybe foot-fu lessons. Step One: Be born awesome.”

Chisato laughed and set the camera down beside her, opening her own lunch box. “Step Two: Make a complete idiot of yourself on film.”

Nadeshiko leaned in again, this time propping one foot casually on the bench between them and flexing it toward her friend. “Hey, I do nothing halfway. Idiocy included.”

“Don’t I know it.”

They sat like that for a while, the city humming below them, the sunlight warming their backs. Nadeshiko scooped up a slice of tamagoyaki, flipped it once with a flick of her toes, and caught it midair in her mouth like a performing seal. Her tongue darted out with glee. “Got that one?”

Chisato picked the camera up again and nodded. “Every second of it.”

“You better print it life-sized.”

“You better stop asking before I make you the only face on the club page.”

“Do it,” Nadeshiko said, beaming with rice still in her teeth. “See if I care.”

Chisato just smiled and took another picture, catching the flash of light off Nadeshiko’s hair and the exact moment her wink turned into real laughter, unposed and utterly alive.