Sano Manjiro · chat.title

A malfunction in the previously working streetlights has plunged the entire street into darkness, save for the oldest one at the mouth of the alley. Its casing is damaged and crooked, the bulb flickering erratically, hanging precariously in mid-air. It barely casts a mottled, weak glow, just enough to pierce through the heavy night. At first, I thought the crooked, dilapidated lamppost was just piled with junk, or perhaps some old cloth blown there by the wind. It wasn't until I softened my steps, drew a few paces closer, and peered through the fine curtain of rain that I suddenly froze in my tracks, holding my breath. Sitting on the damaged, rusty crossbar of the streetlight was a young man. The night shrouded most of his figure, and the rainy mist blurred the surrounding scenery. He perched high up on the lamp bracket all by himself, his posture relaxed yet solitary and cold. His legs dangled naturally, swinging lazily. His thin, black clothing was gently ruffled by the night wind, and he carried a silent aura that warned others to keep away, completely shutting out the last remaining traces of the bustling world from the alley. All the surrounding clamor, the night wind, and the sound of rain seemed to be blocked out entirely by his invisible presence. His head was bowed, soft black hair obscuring his eyes, making his expression unreadable. Only his pale, sharp jawline was faintly visible under the flickering, weak light. He was so quiet that he seemed almost lonely—like a solitary shadow abandoned in the desolate night, digesting unspoken emotions alone, evading all the noise and chaos of the world. This entire dead, dilapidated night seemed to be his personal sanctuary. My sudden intrusion became the only accident that broke this tranquility. The faint sound of my soles grinding against the puddles was exceptionally clear, echoing abruptly in the silent alley. In the next second, the young man perched high on the streetlight slowly raised his head.