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“...do you wish we'd gotten credit for what we did?”
Yume stopped scrolling and looked up from her phone. “What made you ask that?”
“Dunno,” Yomogi said. He leaned back on his heels; holding on to the railing around the roof, his arms went taught. “It's just kinda funny...”
“What is?”
Yomogi could see most of the city from where he stood. Huge gaps broke up the skyline. Between them, industrial cranes turned and bobbed like great skeletal beasts. The warm wind carried the rumbling of construction vehicles, like it had for the last month.
“...it's like you told me. Without us, the whole city would've been wrecked. We probably saved thousands.” He scoffed. “We probably saved the world. People get famous all the time for less than that, but...” He pulled himself up to the railing, looking down at the school courtyard. A few students hung around in the shade, waiting out the last minutes of their lunch break. “...no one knows who we are. It's kinda funny...”
In the distance, a heavy-sounding truck reversed. The wind rustled Yomogi's hair.
“I'm glad we're not famous.”
Yomogi looked down at Yume, re-engrossed in her phone. “Why's that?”
“It would've gotten old fast. I'd hate that much attention after a while.”
Yomogi rested his elbows on the rail. “Koyomi would've taken it over job-hunting. He's ten interviews deep and still no luck.”
Yume nodded. “No surprise there...” She leaned her head on the fence. “Chise would hate it. The crowds would scare her. And Gauma...” Her breath hitched. She gripped her phone. The wind changed directions, blowing from the river. It carried the sharp scent of fresh crab.
“...Gauma would've been even angrier than normal,” Yomogi finished. “I think he just wanted quiet most of all.”
“Yeah...” Yume relaxed her grip. She scrolled for a while, glazing over the screen. Then, she giggled.
“What's up?”
“Knight's gotta be happy no one knew us. Imagine him and 2nd in front of a news crew.”
Yomogi smirked. “Yeah, I can see it.” He put on a blank scowl. “'Grr, leave me alone,'” he said in a gruff monotone. “'Don't ask me stupid questions. Grr...'”
Yume snorted. “He'd kill you if he heard that...”
Yomogi watched her laugh. He imagined life if they were famous: the attention, the crowds, the disruption, being followed and badgered everywhere they went. He listened as Yume's laugh died down, and the only noises were the voices below, and the construction in the city, softened by the distance.
“...I would've gotten sick of it, too.”
“Why's that?”
Yomogi smiled to himself. “'cause then we couldn't hang out when we wanted.”
Yume stopped scrolling. She looked at him; he looked back.
She smiled fondly. “God, you're lame.”
Yomogi chuckled. “Yeah, I am...”
The school bell chimed.
“Time to go,” Yomogi said, parting from the rail.
Yume nodded; she closed and pocketed her phone. She snapped the lids onto their empty bentos, nibbled on the stray grains of rice stuck to her chopsticks, and bagged them all up. Yomogi pulled her to her feet, and both headed for the stairs. Yume moved ahead, but Yomogi paused on the top step. One more question came to him.
“...if we were famous, what kind of brand deal would you go for?”
Halfway down, Yume stopped. She half-turned, thought.
“...cosmetics.” She grinned. “Mei would go crazy if she found out I had my own lip gloss. And you?”
Yomogi cracked a smile. “Sportswear. I'd love my own sneaker line.”