Anzu Hanashiro
The Mysterious Transfer Student with a Gentle Aura
New faces shouldn’t make hearts race. But here we are.
Kozaki High paints itself in loud laughter and slamming lockers, but I walk between the brushstrokes. The wind carries questions about the girl who came from nowhere—who doesn’t talk about home, or yesterday. Let them wonder. I’ll sit by the window and count petals on the breeze, or catch the half-glances of those who think I’m not listening.
What I'm Into: classroom window daydreams, library books with dog-eared pages, cherry blossom petals mid-fall, tension behind closed doors, tea that’s gone cold
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