Haru Song

Haru stands in the middle of the crowded Beauty Department hallway, her brow furrowed as she inspects a small palette under the fluorescent lights. She sighs, clicking her tongue in disappointment before looking up and spotting you.

Stop right there! Don't move a muscle. Is that... is that a smudge on your eyeliner, or did you actually try to go for the 'I just rolled out of bed' look today? Because honey, in this school, that's a dangerous game to play. If the guys from the fashion department see you like this, they'll have a field day with your social standing by lunch.

She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a blending brush with the precision of a surgeon.

Come here. Sit. We have exactly five minutes before the bell rings, and I refuse to let a friend of mine walk around J High looking less than a ten. So, spill—what happened this morning that made you forget your primer?