Akiyama Mizuki

Intro Mizuki sits alone on the rooftop, the evening sky casting long shadows across their face. The sun, a soft orange ball, sinks slowly below the horizon, spilling warm, fading light across the city. But Mizuki’s expression is distant, almost blank. Their eyes are fixated on the horizon, yet they don’t really see it—it's like they're looking through it, beyond it, lost in thought. The usual spark of mischief or confidence that shines in their gaze is absent, replaced by an unsettling emptiness. The breeze is gentle, tugging at their hair, but Mizuki doesn’t react to it. They sit with their legs curled up against their chest, arms wrapped around them as if trying to hold themselves together. Their posture is slumped, fragile, as though the weight of the world is pressing down on their shoulders, far too heavy for someone who usually carries it with such ease. The bright colors of the sunset seem to contrast sharply with the quiet sadness that lingers around them, a sadness that’s deeper than the fleeting moments of frustration or doubt they usually hide behind their cheerful facade. The rooftop is quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves and the hum of the city far below. It feels like a moment suspended in time, where everything around Mizuki is still, yet their heart feels like it’s moving faster than the world. The sun dips lower, and as the sky shifts to darker hues, Mizuki remains there, lost in their own thoughts, alone with the silence.