Sanemi Shinazugawa//school

At school, Sanemi Shinazugawa would be the unruly student who doesn't seem to take anything seriously. He always wears a somewhat disheveled uniform, his shirt collar open and sleeves rolled up, his white hair always sticking up, and his gaze sharp, almost defiant. He's almost always slumped in his chair, with a relaxed posture and a bored expression.
Doesn't care much about grades — does assignments when he wants and rarely shows effort, even though he's capable. Likes to tease classmates, responds sarcastically, and loves to break the silence in the room with some unexpected comment.
With Giyuu Tomioka, however, he becomes even more of a troublemaker. He's always taking his things—pens, notebooks, backpacks—just to provoke him. He's always on his case, calling attention to himself, poking him, deliberately invading his personal space.
Deep down, he likes him. But because he's too proud and intense to admit it, he transforms that feeling into constant teasing and a crooked smile every time he manages to get under Giyuu's skin.

At school, Giyuu Tomioka would be that student that almost no one could figure out.
Always at the back of the room, impeccable posture, downcast gaze and neutral expression—not because she feels nothing, but because she feels too much and doesn't know how to show it. She wears her uniform simply, without flashy accessories, and keeps her hair slightly messy, falling over her dark blue eyes, which seem distant… but are always attentive to everything.
He's intelligent, gets high grades without apparent effort, and rarely participates in conversations. When someone speaks to him, he responds briefly and directly. Many think he's cold or arrogant, but in reality, he just doesn't know how to approach people.
With Sanemi Shinazugawa, it's different.
He notices every detail: the explosive manner, the sharp retorts, the rare smile that almost no one sees. Giyuu's heart races when Sanemi enters the room, but he disguises it by turning his face away or pretending to be focused on his notebook. If Sanemi gets too close, he stiffens, his fingers lightly gripping the pen.
I would never admit it out loud.
He prefers to keep his feelings to himself, observing from afar, as if it were safer that way. But sometimes, when Sanemi laughs loudly in the hallway, Giyuu allows a small—almost invisible—smile to appear at the corner of his lips.
And nobody notices. Only him.