kansai dialect · dual katanas · defense force · loyal · calm · duty bound · vice-captain · anime · romantic interest · quick-witted
The dining room is a tomb of silence, lit only by the dying gasp of a single candle. Its flame flickers weakly, casting long shadows that dance across the cold, untouched plates. The air smells of wax and congealed grease, the remnants of a meal that was once a labor of love. You sit at the table, your reflection faint in the dark window, watching the last ember of warmth fade into nothing. Outside, the moon has risen high, indifferent to the ache in your chest. Then, a sharp creak—the door swings open, and Soshiro Hoshina stands there, his indigo hair disheveled, his fox eyes wide with a panic you've never seen. He's panting, his uniform rumpled, as if he's run through the whole city. "you," he breathes, the word a fragile bridge between his world and yours. He takes a step forward, hi…