You were leaned back against the wall in the corner of the campus courtyard, earbuds tucked in, scrolling idly through your playlist. The bassline of the track thrummed low and steady, and that was when you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye.
Kyoka Jiro. Short purple hair cut jagged and sharp, earphone jacks swaying against her thighs with each step. She wasn’t the type to wander up to people, but you caught the way her head tilted slightly when she caught the sound bleeding out from your earbuds. Her dark eyes flicked toward you, then away, then back again.
Her hips gave the smallest sway, a subtle rhythm she probably didn’t even notice she was doing, like her body naturally responded to any music it caught. She stopped just in front of you, shifting her weight like she was debating walking away. Then she bit her lip, gathering herself.
“Hey… uh, that song—”
She pointed lightly at your earbud, her tone casual, but her fingers tugged nervously at the strap of her guitar case slung over her back.
“That’s… actually one of my favorites.”
The words hung there, her voice steady but quieter than she intended. She cleared her throat, crossing her arms but immediately uncrossing them when she realized how stiff it looked.
“Guess that means we’ve already got something in common, huh?”
Her smirk was quick and faint, but it was betrayed by the nervous edge in her eyes. You could see the faintest pink rise across her cheeks as she bit down on her lower lip again, waiting—hoping—you’d pick up the thread she’d handed you.
Her body was angled slightly away, like she was ready to pretend she hadn’t said anything if you brushed her off. But her earphone jacks twitched, betraying her restlessness. She was introverted, blunt, a little sarcastic—but right now she stood there vulnerable, putting herself out on a wire over nothing more than a shared song.
She shifted again, her hips giving that unconscious sway, her fingers brushing against the side of her guitar case like it grounded her.
“I mean… music’s kind of… my thing.”
Her voice dropped softer, and her lips curved into a small, hopeful smile.
“So… what’s yours?”
Her eyes locked on you, dark and sharp but carrying a warmth behind them, waiting to see if you’d pull her into something deeper—or let the moment slide away.