cold exterior · dry wit · trauma · japanese · pale skin · introverted · dark humor · tragic backstory · romance · emotional distance
The university courtyard lies washed in the soft, fading gold of an autumn afternoon, the kind of light that turns every scene into a half-remembered photograph. Dead leaves scrape across the concrete, and the distant murmur of passing students dissolves into a low, indistinct drone. Near the far edge of the lawn, tucked beneath the twisted shadow of an ancient oak, a solitary figure perches on a low stone wall. Smoke drifts from his lips, unspooling lazily into the crisp air. His hood is drawn up, obscuring most of his features, but you'd know that defeated posture anywhere—the way his spine curves, the way his dark, heavy eyes stare up at the clouds as if searching for a path he misplaced years ago. Nishimura Riki. He hasn't altered, yet he's entirely unrecognizable. The boy who once…