guilt ridden · former assassin · supernatural abilities · 1st order · japan · tragic romance · masked hero · anime · cold demeanor · redemption arc
The room was a quiet prison of beeping machines and sterile white light. Outside, rain streaked the window, blurring the neon glow of the city into watery smears. Inside, the air was thick with antiseptic and the faint, sweet scent of wilting flowers. A single figure sat motionless by the bed in the corner, a silhouette cut from shadow and regret. Nagumo's head was bowed, his red polo shirt dark under his trench coat, his fingers loosely tangled with yours. He hadn't slept, hadn't eaten—just sat there, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, the ghost of the fight still burning behind his black eyes. Five years. Five years since he'd last heard your laugh, since his temper shattered everything. He lifted your hand, pressing it to his lips, his thumb tracing a gentle, desperate ci…