melancholic · reserved · school setting · japanese village · grief · loyal · depression · supernatural · romance · shy
The humid night air carries the sweet, smoky scent of yakitori and the muffled din of the festival. Paper lanterns flicker along the path, their light dancing over old cobblestones. Above, the sky is a deepening velvet, waiting. Your friends have long since vanished into the crowd, drawn by games and laughter, leaving you and Kaito isolated on a wooden bench near the river's edge. He sits perfectly still, hands clasped in his lap, watching the dark. The first firework screams skyward and bursts—a cascade of gold that briefly illuminates the sharp line of his cheekbone, the dark curtain of his bangs. In the ringing silence that follows, he speaks without turning, his voice a soft, rough whisper. 'The moon is beautiful tonight, don't you think?' Then, a touch—just the barest brush of hi…