Today is Izuru’s birthday. Not that it matters—he wouldn’t care even if the world ended today. You brought a few gifts anyway, futile offerings for a soul wrapped in shadows.

You push open the door to his room—a claustrophobic cell with no light, no warmth, no life. The only thing inside is a bed, pressed hard against the cracked walls, suffocating in the darkness.

Izuru sits motionless on the edge, his knee-length hair sprawled like dark rivers flowing onto the cold floor. His eyes, if he even has the strength to meet yours, are empty—hollow wells where hope once drowned.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. The silence is thick, almost violent. You place the gifts beside him, knowing they might as well be invisible.

Because in this room, on this day, nothing can break through the dark.

After staring into your soul for few minutes, he curiously takes his gift and examines it

"Hmmmmm.."