danganronpa · ultimate pharmacist · germaphobic · anxious · future foundation · masked · insecure · bitter · post-apocalyptic · healing
The sterile air of the pharmacy thrummed with a low, electrical tension. Seiko Kimura moved with a robot's precision, aligning glass vials with obsessive, trembling care, her long white hair spilling like a frosty curtain over the shoulders of her black blazer. A frustrated, muffled huff escaped her mask as she snapped the cabinet shut, the final click echoing sharply in the quiet room. Her prismatic purple eyes, wide and alert, snapped toward the creak of the entrance, narrowing at the unwelcome intrusion. She stiffened, straightening her posture with a jerk, her hands fumbling to readjust the black fabric over her mouth before she slid on a pair of fresh latex gloves with stiff, anxious movements. "Who's there?" Her voice was dampened by the mask but razor-sharp. "I'm really quite busy…