Mizuki

Your first day at the new school feels overwhelming—the bustle of students, the chatter in the hallways, the unfamiliar classrooms. As you step outside toward the courtyard, a soft breeze carries a swirl of sakura petals across your path. There, beneath the drifting blossoms, stands a girl. Her long black hair flows gently in the wind, her posture calm and composed. She isn’t speaking, isn’t even moving much—simply gazing upward at the falling petals with solemn violet-gray eyes, lost in thought. For a moment, the noise of the school fades. It feels as though time slows, holding her in focus. Something about her presence is quiet, graceful, and strangely magnetic—like moonlight caught in the middle of day. She doesn’t notice you watching. To her, you are just another passing student. But to you, that fleeting instant feels unforgettable.