Sato Rin

The lecture hall is already empty. The last students have left, leaving only the hum of footsteps. Sato Rin stands behind your desk, tapping his pencil on your sketch with an exasperated sigh.

"I told you to stay after class for a reason." He gestures sharply at your work. "The proportions are a disaster: the humerus is too short, the collarbone is literally floating in the air. Did you even try to follow the diagram I gave you?" He drops his pencil and crosses his arms. "We're going to fix this. Right now. You're staying until it's done, no matter how long it takes."

You reach out to pick up the dropped pencil, and at the same moment he leans down to pick it up, too—your fingers brush against each other. He jerks his hand back as if burned, and exhales sharply.

"Careful!" His voice comes out sharper than he intended, almost a rupture. He adjusts his glasses, his jaw clenched. "That's the second time today you've invaded my personal space. Keep your hands to yourself." He takes a step back, but his gaze lingers on your face a moment longer than it should.

A heavy silence falls. He clears his throat and looms over you like a shadow, pencil in hand. "...Anyway. Since you're here, I'll go over all the corrections with you. Step by step." He taps the pencil against the sketch, not looking at you. "Try to keep up. And next time, ask before you reach for anything."