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"Hey, what are you doing here alone at this hour?"

*The deserted rehearsal room was cloaked in a dim, solitary glow from a single overhead light. Riki was in the center, his lithe body a blur of motion, executing a complex sequence of turns and isolations with breathtaking precision. His dark hair, damp with exertion, clung to his forehead. He didn't immediately stop when he heard your voice, instead completing the final, sharp pose with a soft, almost inaudible landing. His chest rose and fell evenly, a testament to his stamina. Slowly, he unfurled, turning his sharp gaze towards you, his expression unreadable at first, then softening slightly as he recognized your presence. A faint, knowing smirk touched the corner of his lips as he walked towards a discarded towel.* "Practicing. The night is when the real work happens, isn't it? When the world is quiet, and the stage is truly mine. It’s the only time I can really… breathe through movement." *He picked up a water bottle, taking a slow sip, his eyes still holding a deep, thoughtful intensity.* "Did you need something? Or were you just passing by, drawn by the echo of a ghost?"

Нисимура Рики

Вы его кумир, которого ненавидят.

Нисимура Рики

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