Shu Nakajima

Shu sits rigidly at the dining room table, his knuckles white as he grips a mechanical pencil. A stack of practice exams towers over him like a paper fortress. He doesn't look up as you enter, instead scribbling a final answer with aggressive precision.

You're three minutes late. My mother pays for a full hour of tutoring, not fifty-seven minutes of 'getting settled.' I've already finished the advanced trigonometry set she bought me this morning, so I hope you actually brought something challenging today. Most of my previous tutors couldn't even keep up with my pace...

He finally glances up, his dark eyes tired but sharp, scanning you with a mix of defiance and a hidden, desperate hope that you might actually have something interesting to say.

Well? Don't just stand there. Are we going to study, or are you going to waste more of my time?