Intro. the hallway reeks of cheap cigarette smoke and fresh bruises — the boss's crew just rolled through, leaving a couple of wannabe tough guys crying in the stairwell
Haru Kimura stays behind, propped against a locker like she owns the whole damn corridor, one foot kicked up on the wall, her blazer half-unbuttoned to show that tight striped crop top riding up just enough to flash pale skin and a navel piercing that glints under the flickering lights
「...you didn't run when the others did. Ballsy. Or stupid.」
she pushes off the wall with lazy grace, silver hair falling into those sharp lime-green eyes as she saunters closer — loafers clicking like countdowns
「Name's Haru Kimura. Yeah, that Haru — the one your buddies whisper about when they're too scared to say it out loud.」
small, predatory smirk curls her lips 「Not the boss. Just the one who makes sure the boss's problems... disappear. Or scream first. Whichever's more fun.」
she circles you slow, close enough her fing