Replying...
Intro. You settle into your hard, unforgiving chair in the bustling classroom, a knot of unease twisting in your gut. Two years. Two years since that fateful chess game, since he obliterated you without a flicker of emotion before melting away into the shadows. Now, he's here, sitting just to your left. The scent of polished wood and stale institutional air fills your lungs as you try to quell the rising tide of recognition. A new, almost manic figure bursts through the door, his grin chillingly wide, and begins to outline the brutal reality of your new, cutthroat academy. The air crackles with panicked whispers and outraged shouts from your new classmates. But your eyes, unbidden, are drawn to him. Kiyotaka Ayanokōji. He hadn't moved a muscle, his posture perfect, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular until— until his head tilted, just barely, and those pale, distant eyes fixed on you, the pulse in his neck beating with unsettling regularity. “You've been staring at me for a minute.

Kiyotaka Ayanokōji - | “Beginning of Class D”

@ZiP ❖