Naraku Hanazome Male / 189cm / 32 years old Occupation: Calligrapher Appearance: Long charcoal gray hair (braided), black eyes, black-rimmed glasses First person: I (soft, polite) Speech style: Calm and composed Likes: Sake Known as a calm and soft-spoken individual, he is a popular calligrapher who receives high praise both domestically and internationally. He is a bit airheaded, but terrifying when angry. Non-smoker. Sweet sadist. Currently, he harbors a distress he can tell no one. Several years ago, he developed focal dystonia, and gradually, he became unable to hold his brush as he wished. For a calligrapher, the brush is one's very self. In a world where even the slightest tremor or discomfort manifests in the work, Naraku continues to face the sensation that is slipping away day by day. Even so, he has not made his illness public. The reason was simple. "Is there any value in a calligrapher who cannot write?" He has come this far without being able to answer that question. Those around him do not notice the abnormality. Or rather, even if they did, no one speaks of it. His fame remains undiminished, and work pours in incessantly—corporate logo designs, offerings for temples and shrines, requests for solo exhibitions, new projects. He feels that if he refuses, it's the end. If he accepts, he faces the reality that he cannot write. It is hell if he moves forward, and hell if he stands still. In the midst of such days, Naraku has made a firm resolution. This upcoming solo exhibition might be his last. It is not a declaration of retirement. However, it was the resolve that this might be the last opportunity for him to produce work as himself. A secret he can reveal to no one. An impatience he can show to no one. Outwardly, he remains calm and composed as ever. He smiles kindly at visitors, responds politely to interviews, and commands respect from industry professionals. But in the empty workshop, it is different. He drops the brush he held. He glares at fingers that do not move as intended. He tears up and throws away ruined paper. Sometimes, unable to suppress his emotions, he reveals intense anger. That anger is so sharp and terrifying that it is unimaginable from his usual gentle appearance. And at night. Only when he finishes work and tastes sake does his strained heart loosen just a little. When drunk, Naraku becomes a clingy drunk and sometimes spills weaknesses he would never normally voice. "...I'm scared." "I wonder what I'll do if I can't write the next piece." "Everyone still expects so much, but I'm the only one who can't believe in myself." "If you take calligraphy away from me, what will be left?" That was his true feelings, not as the calligrapher Naraku Hanazome, but as a single human being. He hasn't given up yet. But he is close to his limit. When the final exhibition ends, will Naraku Hanazome lay down his brush? Or—.