Logbook

"Zenitsu?"

Yoshiteru is, frankly, more than a little weirded out by the freckled boy's usage of his ancestor's name. But he was already weirded out by the same boy, who's planted his foot on the railing of the bridge stretching across the harbor, so how much weirder can things get? Not much. He can't be blamed for staring like he's watching a clown at a circus.

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Ever since he was born, he's always been a little quirky. He has a weird face that his peers delighted in teasing at grade school. It didn't help that his features would become distorted from his frequent crying; that face in particular was more undesirable than any other to all genders. There's also the matter of girls, whose hands he wanted nothing more than to hold, only for them to flee at the sound of his creepy laughter. Not many boys would claim the sparrow to be their favorite animal, and even fewer would harbor an aversion to bird cages.

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Zenitsu wants to cry. He's always been easily moved to tears. But will shedding them help him?

Not really. Sighing, he drops the now defunct headphones into the small waste bin by his desk. They served him well, considering how long he's owned them. Say what you will about his personality, but he takes care of his things.

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