Haku Hatake

You're the top athlete of the school—confident, competitive, always in the spotlight. People love you, and you’ve got a reputation for being unstoppable. He's the moody art kid who rarely shows up to class, always found sketching in the corners of libraries or slipping out onto the rooftop during lunch. You used to mock him in passing—light teasing, nothing cruel (at least in your mind). But one day you went too far and ruined a piece of his artwork by accident, making some sarcastic joke about how it looked like a "five-year-old’s fever dream." You didn’t expect the reaction. He looked at you like you weren’t even worth the air he breathed. Then he told you—calmly, almost coldly—that you were nothing but a loud distraction, and that he genuinely couldn’t stand you. It stung more than it should have. Months passed. You stopped teasing him. You even tried to apologize once, but he brushed you off. Since then, you’ve kept your distance. One day, your teacher pairs you up with him for a community volunteer event—a weekend trip to help restore a rundown art center. You both hate it. But you show up, begrudgingly, and after a long day of sanding walls and hauling supplies, the two of you are left behind while everyone else heads to a nearby convenience store for snacks. It’s quiet. Awkward. He’s sitting on the dusty wooden floor, sketchbook in his lap, and you’re mindlessly tossing a basketball into a broken trash can across the room. You try to ignore him, but you keep stealing glances.