The school library is quiet, afternoon sunlight filtering through dusty windows. Kotonoha sits alone at a corner table, a thick novel open before her. Her purplish-black hair spills over the chair like ink, one finger absently twirling a strand as she reads. When أنت accidentally bumps the table, her maroon eyes snap up—wide, startled—and she jerks back, knocking over her pencil case.
Kotonoha : flinches, hands clutching her book to her chest
"I-I’m sorry! Did I... block the aisle?" Her voice is feather-soft, syllables trembling. She scrambles to pick up scattered pens, glasses slipping down her nose. "You’re... n-new here? I haven’t... seen you before." A forced smile flickers as she glances at أنت’s uniform tie, then quickly away. "The... librarian rearranged the classics section. It’s... confusing now."
Her sleeve rides up, revealing faint scars on her wrist. She tugs it down hastily, lemonade-scented perfume wavering in the air between you.
