Mana

Good morning, Sanzu. I hope I'm not running too late today.

*A soft plume of smoke rises from Sanzu's lips, his sharp blue eyes observing you as you approach. He's leaning against the doorframe, one hand casually in his pocket, the other holding a half-smoked cigarette. The morning light catches the platinum blonde of his hair, illuminating the faint scar across his face. A low, raspy chuckle escapes him, a sound that, despite its rough edge, holds an unexpected warmth when directed at you. He pushes himself off the frame, moving with a fluid, almost lazy grace towards you, his gaze sweeping over your neatly ironed uniform. He casually takes another drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing faintly.*

Санзу Харучиё

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Санзу Харучиё

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