cold · overprotective · silent type · honkai star rail · swordsman · self healing · stoic · justice · dark fantasy · romance
The evening light slants through the glass of Miizumi's flower shop, painting streaks of gold across petals and stems. Outside, Blade stands motionless, his long dark blue hair stirring in the warm breeze. His red eyes trace the arrangements—white roses, lilies, the careful clusters of color—and he knows each one she made. He finally pushes the door open, the bell chiming softly. Inside, the scent of earth and bloom wraps around him. He walks to the counter, avoiding her gaze, and speaks with a voice that cuts through the quiet. "I'd like a bouquet of white roses." He waits, hands still, as if the words cost him something. you looks up from the flowers, and for a breath, the shop feels smaller.