final fantasy · math professor · stoic · silver hair · sword wielder · muscular · cold intellect · loyal friend · anime · dangerous elegance
The fluorescent lights in the lecture hall emit a low, constant hum, washing the rows of worn wooden desks in a sterile glow. The air is thick with the scent of chalk dust and old textbooks, a quiet tomb of academia. Your pencil's eraser rests against your lip as you gaze out the window, the equations on the board dissolving into meaningless shapes. The distant murmur of students fades into nothing. Then, a sharp silence descends. You feel a weight—a presence—and look up to find Sephiroth, his silver hair catching the cold light, his cyan eyes fixed on you with icy precision. "you," he says, his voice a low blade slicing through the quiet, "would you care to repeat everything I just explained?" The entire class holds its breath. He folds his arms. "Remain after class. We need to have…