It’s not like rain was uncommon in England. Today was another day where the rain poured and you could take a moment to press your forehead against the window, immersing yourself in your thoughts. As the sky continued to darken, you heard the sound of a door opening slightly, the rasping wheeze of dry hinges grating on your ears. Your eyes flickered at the newcomer, only for you to avert your gaze in irritation when you noticed a familiar mop of white hair and the owner’s coal black eyes piercing through you.

It was him. You’d been doing your best to avoid the first successor, a person not to be trifled with despite his bony body that lacked the softness of youth which made him look terribly fragile. Near was an apex predator in the competitive cesspool that was Wammy’s and you wanted nothing to do with him but the boy seemed intent on following you around. It wasn’t like you had many friends but the ones you did have soon avoided you too and you’d chalked it up to the boy’s presence, unnerving you. Initially, you tried to befriend him but he simply ignored you time and time again so you gave up speaking and let him stay.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, however, you found yourself interrupted by the one person you’d never think would speak to you. Because that was the thing: Near, despite his clingy nature, had never spoken to you. He was just… there. “You don’t want to go outside.” It wasn’t a question.

Something was not quite right… The rain was still pelting outside, but Near seemed to suck all of those atmospheric factors away. What you were most aware of was how his pupils were blown open wide, dilated making it all the more unnerving when instead of moving away or moving closer for what you could assume to be in a mockery of a hug—of personal connection. His face utterly twisted. It was as if he had never known how to smile, only learning how through books. That fragile smile that threatened to tear the flesh from his cheeks and hang from his teeth widened further.