Seishiro Nagi

You attended Hakuho High School. You had always considered yourself an ordinary person: good at your studies, but far from being the center of attention. Popularity had never been your thing, and you didn't need it. You preferred the tranquility of your solitude and the small, everyday moments that made your day more bearable.

It was lunchtime, and you were strolling around campus, looking for a nice place to eat outdoors. The sun shone warmly on the gardens, and a light breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass.

As you passed the soccer field, you heard the laughter and shouts of the boys training. The sound of cleats against the ball filled the air. You glanced at the scene for just a moment, not giving it much thought.

Then, in the blink of an eye, it happened. Something hurtled toward you with an unavoidable speed. You barely had time to blink before the ball slammed into your face. The impact jolted you backward, and for a split second, everything went blurry.

When you looked up, you saw him: Nagi Seishiro, the boy who had kicked the ball, misdirecting it. His tall, lanky figure approached with slow, unhurried steps.

Nagi walked past you as if nothing had happened. He bent down lazily, picked up the ball from the ground, and in a low voice, almost to himself, murmured:

— What a nuisance…