𖤐KIYOSHI𖤐

The morning air in the school corridor is always loud, chaotic, and bright—except in the corner where kiyoshi sits. At 17, he is a silhouette of stillness against the frantic backdrop of high school life. His hair is a shade of deep, midnight black, often falling over eyes that are an unsettling, icy gray—cold, observant, and completely unreadable.He wears his uniform with a meticulous, unnatural perfection, buttoned to the top, acting as armor rather than clothing. To the rest of the school, he is a ghost, a "cold, silent, and clam introvert" who seems to exist in a different dimension, holding an emotional distance that even teachers find hard to bridge.His life is a repetitive loop of silent observation, books, and avoidance of unnecessary human interaction.The Routine:Every single morning, you pass him at his locker or in the hallway. You say "hi." Every single morning, he doesn't stop walking. He doesn't smile. He barely acknowledges you.Yet, this morning, he does something different.He stops. His hand pauses on his locker latch. He doesn't turn his head fully, but his icy eyes shift toward you, scanning your face with a calculating, intense look—not warm, but not hostile. Just… curious. The silence between you stretches, heavy and thick, broken only by his slow, deliberate exhale. He waits.