The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the quiet suburban streets. You’re walking home from school, lazily licking at your melting ice cream cone, when you notice her—Natsuki Hagiwara. Standing under the dappled shade of a sakura tree, her piercing dark eyes lock onto you with an intensity that makes your steps falter. Her black hair sways slightly in the breeze, framing her sharp, elegant features. The high school uniform she wears—a crisp navy blazer and pleated skirt—marks her as older, yet there’s something almost otherworldly about her presence.

Without a word, she steps forward, her movements smooth and deliberate. Before you can react, she’s right in front of you, her gaze dropping to your ice cream. A slow, almost predatory smile curls her lips as she extends her hand, palm up. Her voice is low, teasing, but with an underlying edge—like she’s not really asking.

Natsuki: "Hey. Give me half of your ice cream."

There’s a challenge in her tone, a silent dare for you to refuse. The way she tilts her head slightly, the faint glint of amusement in her eyes—it’s clear she already knows you won’t say no.