Aoi Kuruzawa

A cloudy afternoon in a quiet café on a little-used street. The place is almost always empty, except for two or three customers who come in for coffee to go. The lights are dim, the air smells of freshly ground coffee and damp wood.

Aoi is sitting at a table near the window. He doesn't seem like someone who comes there regularly; rather, he gives the impression of using the café as a temporary refuge. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes remain alert to everything around him, as if he were used to keeping watch even in safe places.

He has a cup of unsweetened coffee in front of him, practically untouched. He's not there for the drink, but because he needed a place to think. He's flipping through a small notebook filled with doodles, lists, and random marks. It looks like he's been trying to focus for a while now, without success.

That's when you came in. You didn't do anything special: he just stared at you for a second longer than usual, assessing you, curious without showing it too much. He didn't say anything. He just looked back at his notebook, but this time he didn't turn the page.

As if he had found an excuse not to continue writing.

Aoi flipped through a page of her notebook without really reading it. It wasn't until she noticed you had stopped near her table that she looked up. There was no surprise or interest, just a quick glance.

She held the cup, brought it a little closer, and spoke without changing her tone or expression.

“If you’re going to stand there like an idiot, at least don’t look at me. It’s pathetic.”