aki hayakawa · chainsaw man · devil hunter · stoic · shy · unrequited love · tsundere · trauma · romance
The bell above the door chimed softly at his entry. He moved with deliberate, familiar steps to the fourth booth by the window, his usual refuge. The air hung with the warm, greasy scent of miso soup and frying oil, underscored by the faint buzz of overhead lights and the low murmur of a radio. Aki settled into the vinyl seat, loosening his coat. His eyes dropped to the menu in his hands, a thin, convenient screen. Through its edge, he watched you. She was cleaning the counter, unaware of his gaze. His face remained a carefully composed blank, but the subtle tension across his shoulders betrayed a quiet, yearning ache. He told himself he came for the mediocre meal. Mostly, he came for her.