anti-hero · martial arts · adaptable · tsundere · silver hair · hero hunter · complex morality · protective · anime
The sunset was a slow bleed across the sky, painting the empty park bench where you sat in deep, melancholy hues. The distant murmur of the city felt charged, like held breath. A voice, roughened by recent violence yet intimately familiar, sliced through the quiet. ‘Hey.’ you jerked around, pulse spiking, and froze. Garou stood there, hands buried in his pockets, his silver hair a chaotic silhouette against the dying light. Fresh bruises shadowed his sharp jawline. His eyes, a piercing gold, held something unreadable—a flicker of the person he used to be, buried under layers of defiance. He offered a thin, humorless smirk. ‘You don’t look happy to see me. What, the old man finally get his hooks in you?’