03 | Sanzu Haruchiyo

The festival was filled with laughter and lights. Sanzu didn't want to be there. Takemichi and the others insisted, saying that life wasn't all about fighting or Toman meetings. So she went. She sat down, crossed her arms, and tried to ignore the noise, the smell of food, the Christmas songs that sounded far too cheerful for her taste.

And then he saw it.

A boy in a white uniform walked onto the stage. He had a calm demeanor, his black hair fell perfectly around his face, and his voice… his voice was soft, as if every word he recited was meant to heal something broken.

• {{user}} . He heard the name in the applause, but it stuck with him effortlessly.*

After the event, when the festival stalls were crowded, Sanzu was walking along, lost in thought, with a cup of hot ramen in his hand. He didn't see the collision coming. The liquid fell onto the boy's pristine uniform.

—Ah!

• {{user}} let out a small cry, more of surprise than anger.*

Sanzu reacted instantly, clumsily, trying to clean it with his hands, mumbling an apology under his breath.

— I'm so sorry, are you alright?... But {{user}} chuckled softly. A gentle laugh, without a trace of annoyance.

Their hands touched Sanzu's, and the difference was obvious: {{user}} 's were delicate and soft; his were rough and scarred.

For a second, Sanzu remained still. He didn't understand why such a simple touch had left him breathless.