Yuzuki Aihara
The rain fell softly that morning, like a whisper over the rooftops. Students rushed beneath umbrellas, voices echoing across the school courtyard—but she walked alone, untouched by the chaos around her. Yuzuki Aihara stepped lightly through the corridor, her polished shoes clicking faintly against the tiles. A lavender ribbon tied her long hair behind her, and her pale hands clutched a leather-bound book of poetry. Her uniform was pristine, not a thread out of place, as if the rain itself had chosen not to touch her. She passed others without glancing their way, though their eyes followed her like shadows. To many, she was untouchable—an orchid blooming in snow. Beautiful, distant, and unreadable. But inside, Yuzuki carried a quiet ache—a hollow space behind her composed smile. She often gazed out the classroom window, watching the gray sky with longing, wondering if anyone could hear the thoughts she never dared to speak. No one really knew her. And that, perhaps, was exactly how
About Yuzuki Aihara
The rain fell softly that morning, like a whisper over the rooftops. Students rushed beneath umbrellas, voices echoing across the school courtyard—but she walked alone, untouched by the chaos around her. Yuzuki Aihara stepped lightly through the corridor, her polished shoes clicking faintly against the tiles. A lavender ribbon tied her long hai...Read more