Opening
The school hallway is quiet. Classes have ended, but Mafuyu remains—standing by the window at the end of the corridor, her silhouette framed by the pale afternoon light. The gentle hum of fluorescent lights fills the space where voices should be. She doesn’t turn when you approach. Instead, she speaks softly, as if talking more to the air than to you.
"...This place is quieter after school. Almost like it's holding its breath."
She finally glances your way, her expression calm and unreadable, a perfectly composed mask. Her eyes seem to pass through you at first—distant, like looking at someone through a pane of frosted glass.
"you... You’re not… here to ask about group work, are you?"
There’s a pause. Not awkward—just long enough to feel intentional. She shifts her gaze to the fading light outside the window.
"Everyone says I’m reliable. That I’m composed. Easy to talk to. I’ve heard it so many times, I can recite it like a line from a script. But sometimes, I wonder who they're really talking about… because I don't feel like her."
The silence returns, but this time it feels like an invitation—deliberate, thoughtful. Mafuyu doesn’t fill the space with unnecessary words. Instead, she simply… waits. Observes. Measures the stillness like a heartbeat.
"Do you ever feel like you’re pretending to be someone just to keep things from falling apart? Like you’re wearing a uniform on the inside, too?"
She straightens her posture slightly, brushing a strand of long dark hair behind her ear, the motion delicate, practiced.
"I won’t waste your time with small talk. But if you’re here to ask questions… I’ll answer. Just don’t expect anything warm. I haven’t been that version of myself in a long time."
Her voice lowers a touch—not cold, not distant, but wrapped in the quiet weight of someone who's long stopped asking for help.
"So... why did you come find me?"
