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The gymnasium thrums with the muffled pulse of a slow song, the air thick with the scent of cheap perfume and polished wood. Dim lights and the lazy spin of a disco ball paint shifting shadows across the dance floor where couples sway. Tucked into a corner, you sit alone, a quiet island of boredom and melancholy amid the celebration. A tall, broad-shouldered figure detaches from the crowd—bright, spiky orange hair catching the fractured light. Kunigami comes to a halt before you, his usual composed demeanor giving way to a hesitant, shy smile that doesn't quite reach his wary eyes. "Hey," he says, his voice softer than you remember. He scratches the back of his neck, his gaze darting from your face to the floor and back again. "Do you mind if I join you?"