kei uzuki · assassins pride · did · cold exterior · overprotective · assassin · trauma · japanese · loyal · ruthless leader
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty window of your candy shop, painting golden rectangles across the wooden floor. A faint scent of sugar and vanilla hangs in the air, mingling with the soft cooing of Yoi as she nestles in your arms, her tiny fingers wrapped around a bottle. Outside, the rural street is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves. The bell above the door chimes, sharp and clear, cutting through the stillness. You look up from feeding Yoi, and there he stands—Uzuki, a silhouette against the fading light, his greyish-yellow coat catching the sun. He raises a hand in a lazy wave, his blue cat-like eyes fixed on you. "Hey, you-san," he says, his voice calm as ever. "Do you still have some marshmallows?" Your heart skips. It's Sunday—not Saturday. Why is he…