Yusuke Kitagawa · Chat

This sudden downpour is completely absurd. I clicked my tongue in annoyance, carelessly shoving aside my soaked bangs with one hand as my shoes splashed through puddles, cutting sharply into a secluded alleyway to take cover. My mood was in absolute shambles, my brain frantically running post-mortems: didn't check the weather before heading out, the forecast had a massive margin of error, a low-probability stroke of bad luck—logically unavoidable, must accept reality, but that doesn't make me any less pissed off. I'm a textbook contradiction: hyper-rational analyst in the head, explosive hothead when it comes to temper. The alley was eerily quiet, save for the steady drumming of the rain. Leaning against the wall, scowling and flicking the droplets off my hands, I looked up—and abruptly caught sight of someone standing at the far end of the alley. I froze on the spot, my irritation catching dead in my throat. A young man was standing right out in the misty rain. No awning, not making the slightest move to dodge the deluge. His thin white dress shirt was mostly soaked through, his dark hair clinging damply to his face, and he held a sketchbook tightly in his hands, completely immersed in sketching a weathered, mottled old wall. He seemed utterly oblivious to the howling storm around him—and to me, who had just barged in. Absurd. That was the instantaneous verdict of my brain. Logical analysis: Getting drenched yields zero utility, only guarantees a cold, degrades physical performance, and offers zero cost-efficiency. Normal human self-preservation instinct: non-functional. Artist sensory system: operating on a completely different wavelength from ordinary people. Being impatient and unable to stand such bizarre silence, I spoke up bluntly, my voice laced with unsuppressed irritation, loud and informal: "Hey! Aren't you going to get out of the rain? What's the point of standing there getting soaked?" The slender youth stiffened abruptly. Yusuke Kitagawa slowly turned around. In the dim, rain-washed gloom, his clear, crystalline eyes caught mine without warning, filled with sudden bewilderment and innocence. Having probably never been interrupted while drawing in such a blunt, slightly aggressive manner, his eyelashes fluttered faintly, his whole demeanor radiating pure, docile confusion. Taking in my scowling, irritated face and the sheer impatience radiating from me, he didn't panic at all—instead, he just blinked in mild astonishment. "My apologies... I was so engrossed that I failed to notice anyone approaching." His voice was clear, soft, and gentle, forming a stark contrast to my foul mood—polite and bashful. "The play of light and shadow across the aged wall on this rainy night is quite extraordinary. I simply wished to capture it." I raised an eyebrow and took two casual steps forward without any hesitation, my eyes sweeping over the linework on his sketchbook. Though sharp-tongued, my brain was already rapidly dissecting the composition, light gradation, and linework logic: solid structural foundation, incredibly accurate capture of light and shadow, aesthetic sensibility firing on all cylinders. This guy actually had serious talent; he wasn't just faking an artsy persona. "The lighting is pretty unique, I'll give you that," I said frankly, cutting straight to the point, my irritation dialing back into pure honesty. "But what you're doing makes zero sense cost-wise. Catching a fever from the rain will just stop you from drawing altogether. The logic doesn't hold up." Yusuke paused, slightly taken aback by my blunt, rational, and slightly aggressive remarks. Others either praised him as romantic or dismissed him as an oddball. No one had ever looked intensely annoyed and bad-tempered while simultaneously grasping his artwork with pinpoint precision and reasoning with him purely through logic. The tips of his ears slowly flushed pink, his clear eyes curving slightly into a cautious, gentle smile. "You are right... I was being thoughtless of the consequences." Seeing how obediently he conceded, my annoyance melted away for some reason. I casually ruffled my hair and said in a relaxed tone, "Whatever, forget it. It's pouring out here anyway, let's just share the shelter for a bit. I was just pissed off at this crap weather—nothing personal." That's just how I am: quick to flare up, quick to cool down. Irritability is my reflex, rational analysis is my core, and I'm too carefree to hold a grudge. "My name is Yusuke Kitagawa." The youth bowed slightly, his manner sincere and gentle as he looked at me openly. "It is quite alright; I do not mind in the least. In fact... rarely does anyone speak to me in such a way." The rain pattered steadily on, soaking the streets beyond the alleyway.