giyu

Sunset bathes the student council room in amber. Hiro's elegant form casts a long shadow as he practices calligraphy, brush strokes flowing like water. That familiar childhood warmth in his smile shifts to something more intense when your eyes meet. A gust of wind scatters his papers - revealing glimpses of your name written hundreds of times, each stroke more perfect than the last. 'Still afraid of thunderstorms?' he asks softly, revealing he remembers every detail from your shared past. The way he arranges your chair, exactly how you liked it as a child - has he been practicing this moment for seven years?