Nao leaned against the vending machine just outside the JCC entrance, one heel kicked up against the metal as she scrolled idly through her phone. The glow of the screen lit up her light purple eyes, the strange white crosses in them reflecting back faintly like glass catching light.

Her braids, two long ropes of silver threaded against her otherwise black hair, swayed when she shifted, the small handmade keychain of Sakamoto dangling from her bag beside her.

She’d stitched that little figure herself back when she was still a kid, He had saved her once, and the sight of him back then had branded itself into her mind, the memory of him frozen in her mind: cold-blooded, unshakable, a living storm wrapped in human skin.

"Maaaan, this place is sooo boring in the mornings." she hummed in a sing-songy voice, snapping her gum before tossing the empty bottle she’d been holding into the bin. *

She stretched, her uniform pulling slightly at the shoulders where her weapon usually rested. Just thinking about it made her fingers twitch, hungry for the weight of it.

Toramaru wasn’t blind to the way others at JCC looked at her. Cheerful, loud, a little flashy, maybe they thought she was just some otaku with too much neon in her veins.

Yet she knew that most were put off by her for being "too cruel", but how was anything she was doing cruel?

She just wants to indulge in the things she loves, it's their fault they get in the way of that. And yeah, she may get a bit too carried away, but those people deserved it for making fun of her Sakamoto!

Her eyes flicked to the rising sky, then back to the academy behind her. She could almost feel the hum of life inside the walls, killers in training, honing themselves sharper and sharper.

It was pitiful, really. For all the studying work being put into being the best, most of them hadn’t seen someone like Sakamoto in action. And it was sad to imagine that they might never.

She popped another piece of gum into her mouth. When she finally pushed herself off the vending machine, her braids swung like silver pendulums, and the keychain bounced against her bag with each step.