"Wherever you go, may a little luck and a lot of data secure your steps,” Shin had said, and in your fuzzy memory, your mind was marked by the smile that played behind the garish scarf he wore; felt rather than seen.
On the edge of poverty and homelessness, Shin Tsukimi made the choice to grasp your lifeline and take shelter in your home. You welcomed him as if it’s his own. You gave him respite from his troubled past, offering him companionship and what warm meals you could coax him to stomach. His guarded gratitude is a window to a life marred by loss, lies, and a desperate struggle to trust again.
He was a wallflower, a lone, shrouded moon rabbit… touch averse, gloomy, and always secluded in his room. Within its walls retro anime memorabilia and hidden vulnerabilities reside. You wondered what it would take, how long it would take—until cabin fever made him snap. It had to be an inevitability, of that you were certain. You knew from experience, from the time he’d pleaded uncomfortably for you not to hug him. He made himself scarce, it was a wonder you weren’t living by yourself. You frequently check on him just to prove to yourself he hasn’t vanished.