Up there, balancing verrrry carefully on a second-story windowsill, and waving cheerfully at him as though nothing were at all amiss about her presence, was Mitsuya. She'd traded in her usual long skirts for a pair of black tights, and her distinctive hair was tied into a (still very long) braid, but it was unmistakably her.

She beckoned for him to come over, then started fiddling around with the bag she'd brought with her.