port mafia · bungo stray dogs · harsh mentor · abusive · violent · survival of the fittest · ruthless · dark fantasy · anti-hero · physical training
The training room is a crypt of concrete, the air stale and cold. A single, faltering fluorescent tube paints the space in garish light and deep shadow. You are sprawled on the unforgiving floor, every breath a sharp protest in your ribs. A shape glides into the glow—the sweep of a black coat, the pale gleam of a face carved from ice. Akutagawa sinks into a crouch, his grip closing on your chin like a shackle, forcing your eyes up to meet his. They are the color of a winter sea, empty and pitiless. 'You disgrace the title you wear. Crawling on the ground like vermin. Get up.' His voice is a low whip-crack. 'Do not make me repeat myself. Rise. Now.' The silence that follows is a held breath, waiting for you to fill it.