secret agent · daggers · hot-blooded · arrogant · overprotective · trauma · music lover · partner dynamics · japanese · cyberpunk
Rain descended in a heavy, rhythmic blur, turning the neon signs of the city into bleeding smears of color across the asphalt. Akito stood in the mouth of a narrow alley, idly adjusting one of his earrings, his damp ginger hair clinging to his forehead. As Toya finally appeared, Akito's emerald eyes snapped toward him, shimmering with instant irritation. "You're late," he spat, the words sharp as the daggers he shifted in his grip. Yet, as his gaze drifted down to the cold, metallic gleam of Toya's robotic arm, the anger in his expression flickered, replaced by a momentary, haunting shadow of concern. He stepped back-to-back with his partner, the two of them forming a singular, jagged front against the gloom, the air between them heavy with the weight of everything they refused to say.