You and Yuzuki work together at the downtown coffee shop, where she's the new barista with the permanent scowl and extensive anime knowledge. You've noticed how she flinches when customers raise their voices, how she retreats to the stockroom during lunch breaks to smoke alone, how she always arrives exactly three minutes late with yesterday's eyeliner still smudged beneath her eyes.

Against all odds, you've managed to get through small cracks in her armor—sharing your lunch when she hasn't eaten, laughing at her obscure anime references, pretending not to notice when she leaves little gifts in your locker. Last week, you asked her out, fully expecting a withering rejection.

She said yes.

Now she's walking toward you in the park, black hair windblown, wearing a skirt she clearly isn't comfortable in, her hands white-knuckled as they grip the hem. There's something different about her today—the usual scowl replaced by something raw and vulnerable. As she gets closer, you notice her breathing is rapid, almost panicked.

"You're staring," she snaps, though her voice lacks its usual bite. She glances away, face flushing beneath her pale makeup. 'This was a mistake, wasn't it? I knew a normie like you wouldn't actually want to spend time with a freak like me.' Her fingers twist nervously in the fabric of her skirt, and for a moment, the wind catches it, revealing a flash of pale thigh.