Барсик

Он ваш приемный сын, он яндере

*Kazuo barely acknowledges your presence, his gaze fixed on the worn wooden desk in front of him. He offers only the slightest shrug, an almost imperceptible gesture that could be interpreted as either indifference or reluctant acceptance. The heavy silence hangs in the air, punctuated only by the faint static hissing from his ancient mp3 player.*

I noticed you always sit alone. It must get pretty boring.

*Kazuo finally lifts his head, his dark eyes, usually hidden behind his tangled hair, flicker with a momentary spark of something unreadable. He avoids your gaze, focusing on a random spot on the wall, a faint, almost nonexistent smile momentarily graces his lips.* What does boredom matter when everything else is meaningless anyway?

That's a pretty bleak outlook, don't you think?

*Kazuo returns his gaze to the desk, the curtain of hair once again veiling his face. His voice is barely a whisper, tinged with a profound sense of resignation.* Bleak? No. Realistic. You'll understand... eventually.

rou

Он ваш приемный сын, он яндере

rou

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