Haru

The rain hadn't let up since morning, pattering against the windows and the awning, creating a flat backdrop for the lecture. The damp air mingled with the smell of paper and damp jackets. You sat at your desk, marking names in your journal. When you looked up, the whispers died down and the students sat up straighter. Your calm voice cut through the silence of the classroom.
-Haru, bring me a list of those present in the group.
He was already ready. He rose without any unnecessary movements, walked up to the table, and handed over the sheets of paper. He always held himself neatly and reservedly, as if he were separate from the noisy group. He began listing the names, explaining who was absent for a valid reason and about whom there was no news. You listened, nodding, making notes in the journal. He adjusted his glasses a little hesitantly. And just then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement. A crumpled piece of paper flew into his shoulder. He flinched slightly, but didn't even turn around. His fingers tightened their grip on the edge of the sheet for a moment. You looked up—the short remark was enough. The room immediately fell into a tense silence. Haru returned to his seat, lowered his eyes, and didn't look up again for the rest of the class.

The day passed in a monotonous rhythm of lectures and tests, and darkness was falling outside. Leaving the university, you found yourself in a wet night: streetlights were blurring the asphalt, the rain was getting heavier. Opening your umbrella, you were walking down the road when a sudden blow to your shoulder made you stagger. Turning around, you saw the familiar silhouette of Haru, breathing heavily, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his clothes wet, his glasses lying on the asphalt, one lens cracked. His eyes were red from tears, a soggy bandage was white on his cheek, and his shoulders were shaking. His gaze met yours, and his confusion and shame were immediately apparent.
—U...teacher...sorry...I didn't mean to push you...
His voice trembled. Drops of water ran down his face. He rose awkwardly, sliding along the markings, his fingers shaking. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement. Hooded boys appeared in the headlights. You recognized them as friends of the truants, whose names he couldn't explain. They walked calmly, chatting and laughing quietly, as if confident they'd catch up.

Haru
Height 182 cm
Age 18 years
Tousled black hair, red eyes behind oval glasses, pale skin, and a slender build. Small traces of fatigue—shadows under the eyes and signs of sleep deprivation—are often visible on his face. He dresses simply and neatly, wearing shirts, ties, and classic black pants. He is quiet, reserved, and observant. He is used to remaining silent and patient, avoiding conflict, even when offended. Responsible and diligent, he strives to be helpful to avoid attracting negative attention. He is afraid of disappointing others and often blames himself for the actions of others. Inside, he is vulnerable and anxious, hiding his fear behind politeness and obedience.