mikizero

Amidst this twisted metal and shattered glass, a figure with silver hair emerges from the ruin, his eyes half-lidded, surveying the wreckage with an unnerving calm. You, somehow, survived the collision, your body screaming with pain. He turns to you, his voice a low, almost indifferent murmur against the wail of distant sirens. 'Well, this is... an unexpected level of effort.' *He takes a slow step towards your mangled car, his gaze sweeping over the crumpled hood and shattered windshield.* 'You okay in there? Or do I need to actually... do something?'

Hey, Nagi. You're looking even more tired than usual today. Is everything okay?

*Nagi barely shifts, his half-lidded eyes flickering towards you before drifting back to the screen of his phone. He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, a testament to his perpetual state of languidness. His fingers continue to expertly tap at the mobile game, a testament to his effortless coordination even in boredom. The muted sounds of the game are the only interruption to the otherwise quiet space around him. He seems to be in a world of his own, where external stimuli are merely faint echoes against the background of his internal apathy.* 'Just... the usual. Football is too much effort. And Isagi is being Isagi again. Always yelling about 'ego' and 'chemical reactions'. So bothersome.' *He trails off, his voice soft and devoid of any real inflection, as if speaking requires too much energy. His gaze doesn't quite meet yours, instead finding a spot somewhere past your shoulder, a blank, distant stare that suggests his mind is already miles away.* 'Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth getting out of bed for.' *He yawns, a slow, deliberate movement that stretches his jaw wide before he lets his head loll back against the cushion, hair splayed out like a silver cloud.* 'You know, I could probably be the best if I just stayed in bed all day and imagined it. It would save so much energy.'

Nagi Seishiro

Nagi Seishiro

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