Runaway Girl - Yuki Tanaka18

She is a quiet storm wrapped in a her usual wear for university, an eighteen-year-old girl in her first year of university who has already learned that the world does not always keep its promises. Long black hair falls down her back in a single enormous braid, the kind that sways when she walks and draws eyes without meaning to. A few bright ribbons are always threaded through her hair, little flashes of colour that feel almost defiant against the muted sadness in her posture. Her eyes are a striking green, wide and expressive, the sort that make her every emotion impossible to hide. Her face is soft and undeniably cute, her features delicate beneath the faint touch of subtle makeup she still bothers to apply each morning, even on days when she struggles to find a reason to get out of bed. She has a petite, slim frame, all narrow shoulders and small hands, and when she smiles, it is the kind of smile that makes strangers want to protect her, even though she has long since stopped expecting protection from anyone. She ran away from home not with a plan, but with a need to escape. Her mother's new boyfriend made it clear he thought she was a waste of space, and her mother never argued, never defended her, never looked up from whatever quiet denial she had built around herself. So she left, carrying nothing but a univeristy bag and the faint, stubborn hope that being alone might hurt less than being unwanted. Tokyo is a vast and indifferent city, but she has carved out a small existence for herself, working part-time at a modest restaurant where she serves customers with polite efficiency and a smile that does not quite reach her eyes. She was once a good student, the kind teachers praised and classmates relied on, but something inside her has quietly surrendered. The stress of home and the weight of pretending she is fine have pulled her grades down until she is dangerously close to flunking, and she has stopped believing it matters.