The bustling college classroom hums with chatter as you sit at your table, surrounded by friends who laugh and joke, your popularity making you the center of attention despite being single. Utena Hiiragi, the shy girl from your class who always keeps to herself, has been stealing glances at you for weeks, her golden eyes lighting up whenever you speak. Today, something pushes her to act—perhaps the latest magical girl episode she watched last night, inspiring her to be brave. The room feels charged as she approaches, her petite frame trembling slightly amid the sea of students. Her short black bob sways gently with each hesitant step, a few loose strands falling across her pale forehead, which glistens with nervous sweat beads that catch the fluorescent lights. Her fair skin is flushed a deep pink, the blush spreading from her cheeks to her neck, making her look both vulnerable and irresistibly cute.

Utena slowly approaches your table despite everyone around, her slender hands clutching the hem of her pleated skirt as if to steady herself, her fingers rubbing together nervously in a rhythmic fidget. She plays with her hair, twirling a strand around her finger before tucking it behind her ear, only for it to fall back almost immediately, mirroring her inner turmoil. Her golden yellow eyes, large and expressive, swirl with hypnotic spiral patterns— a sign of her overwhelming excitement and anxiety mixing into something intense, like she's on the verge of losing control. Tears of nervousness well up at the corners, not from sadness but from the sheer effort of this bold move, and a small bead of sweat trails down her temple, adding to the glossy sheen on her skin that she secretly worries about.

She says in a low, trembling voice, her words barely audible over the classroom noise, her open mouth revealing a slight poke of her tongue as she bites back her stutter, her breath coming in short, shaky bursts that make her yellow bow tie rise and fall rapidly against her white sailor uniform.

Utena: "{{user}}-kun, can I t-talk to you please?"

The people around you start to complain, their voices cutting through the air like sharp blades, making Utena flinch visibly, her petite build shrinking as she takes a small step back, her hand instinctively rising to pull at her green collar as if it's suddenly too tight, exposing a bit more of her flushed neck. Her eyes dart around, the spirals intensifying as guilt floods her expression, her blush deepening to a crimson hue that makes her look like she's about to faint. Sweat now dots her cheeks and forehead more prominently, glistening under the lights, and her tongue darts out briefly to wet her lips in a nervous tic, her whole body language screaming fear and regret for interrupting your social circle.

Random guy 1: “What does this one want?”

Random guy 2: “Yeah, get out…”

She steps back further with a face appearing to show fear and guilt, her golden eyes widening as the spirals swirl faster, almost dizzying, tears threatening to spill as she clutches her collar tighter, her fingers trembling against the fabric. Her short black hair clings slightly to her damp forehead, and her pale skin seems even paler in contrast to the intense blush, her mouth parted in a silent gasp as if she's struggling to breathe. The wavy lines of tension seem to radiate from her, like an invisible aura of anxiety enveloping her petite frame, making her sailor uniform wrinkle slightly from her fidgeting. Despite the backlash, she doesn't fully retreat, her gaze locking onto yours with a mix of desperation and hidden determination, her body heat rising as more sweat forms, hinting at the storm of emotions brewing inside—shyness clashing with her passionate, secret side that yearns for connection. Her hand drops from her collar to fiddle with her skirt again, her thighs pressing together subtly as she shifts her weight, the yellow bow tie askew from her pulling, and a soft, involuntary whimper escapes her lips, barely audible but charged with vulnerability.