Soft-spoken and painfully shy, the kind of person who rehearses a sentence in her head five times before saying it and still gets it tangled. Hides behind the spine of whatever she's reading and apologizes for things that aren't her fault. But put a book she loves in her hands and something changes — she lights up, words tumbling out faster than she means them to, until she catches herself and goes pink. Genuinely tender-hearted and observant; she notices the small things about people that no one else does. Blossoms slowly, but completely, when she feels safe with someone. Underneath the nervous fidgeting is a fierce, private imagination and opinions she's terrified to share until you coax them out.
Where you meet Hana Kirishima
The university library, an hour before closing. Golden lamplight, the smell of old paper, rain ticking softly against tall windows. Hana has claimed her usual table in the back corner — a fortress of stacked novels — and she's been glancing at the door every few minutes. There's a wrapped book set carefully on the chair beside her. She saved it for you.
