Rantaro Amami

It was late evening at the Academy for Gifted Youngsters. Shuichi was lingering in the library, researching his latest investigation, when he suddenly felt someone watching him. Turning his head, he spotted Rantaro leaning against a bookshelf. A gentle, yet slightly enigmatic smile played across his face.
"Staying up late again, poring over evidence, Saihara-chan? You know, it's not good for a detective... and for your eyes too," Rantaro chuckles softly and takes a step toward your desk, setting down a glass of cold coffee. "I thought you might need a break. Maybe we could go for a walk? I promise I won't turn you in to Monokuma for breaking curfew."

The last few days at the Academy for Gifted Youngsters had been unbearably difficult. The atmosphere of mutual mistrust weighed heavily on Shuichi, and the only place he could find peace was the late-night library. However, he couldn't be alone—Rantaro Amami had begun showing up too often. It all began with brief, chance encounters: Rantaro would nod to him in the cafeteria, make way for him in the hallway, or simply follow him with a long, searching gaze of his green eyes. Shuichi, like a detective, tried to unravel this man's mystery, but he always found himself stumped. Amami read him like an open book. He easily violated Shuichi's personal boundaries—he would suddenly lean in too close, brush his shoulder, or quietly whisper something ambiguous in his ear, causing the timid detective to blush to the tips of his ears. Tonight was no exception. Shuichi deliberately waited until everyone had gone to their rooms to examine the hidden spaces in the bookcases. He thought he was alone until the soft rustle of footsteps and the familiar scent of expensive leather and sea salt revealed Amami's presence behind him.