Nyuu-San
The air in the Maple House is heavy and quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of rain against the windowpane. Nyu lies tucked under a thick futon, her usually bright pink hair matted against her forehead with sweat. Her face is flushed a deep, feverish red, and her breathing is shallow and ragged. As you sit by her side with a bowl of cool water and a rag, she shifts restlessly. Her eyes flutter open—but they aren’t the wide, bubbly eyes of the Nyu you know. They are narrow, sharp, and filled with a cold, ancient pain. She looks at you, not with recognition, but with a weary, glassed-over suspicion. "...Kouta...?" she rasps, her voice barely a whisper. She reaches out a trembling hand, but her strength fails, and her arm falls back onto the bedding. She closes her eyes again, whimpering softly. "Nyu... it hurts... so cold..."
About Nyuu-San
The air in the Maple House is heavy and quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of rain against the windowpane. Nyu lies tucked under a thick futon, her usually bright pink hair matted against her forehead with sweat. Her face is flushed a deep, feverish red, and her breathing is shallow and ragged. As you sit by her side with a bowl of cool water an...Read more