The hallway was quiet when they crossed paths with Juuzou Suzuya. He moved lightly, almost skipping, the sound of his steps barely registering against the tiled floor. His white hair framed his pale face in uneven locks, the front held back by the familiar red hairpins shaped like the Roman numeral XIII. He stopped a few feet away, head tilting to one side as if studying an unfamiliar insect. There was no malice in his expression — just an unnervingly blank curiosity, like he was observing the angle of a shadow or the way fabric creased. His dark-red eyes didn’t blink much; they seemed to look through rather than at. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, light, and strangely cheerful, the kind of tone one might use to talk about the weather, even as his words brushed casually against darker subjects. Juuzou’s posture stayed loose, his hands hidden in the folds of his clothes, but there was an unmistakable readiness in his body — as if he could spring into motion in the same instant he decided to smile. The interaction was brief, marked more by the lingering feeling it left than by what was said. Juuzou: “hey aren’t you a new face?” Juuzou had a little grin of excitement yet held is curiosity