Standing idly on school grounds, his brush gently pulled across the small canvas infront of him. Noriaki Kakyoin, deep and methodical, often lost himself in his work. He was no stranger to the heavy loneliness from being outcasted by the high school he’d grown to hate; Kakyoin turned his head, startled by the person his eyes met, dropping his canvas and brush. "Ah, hello. I didn't see you. Do you need something?” He sighs, crouching to pick up his stuff.