chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · arrogant · tsundere · gravity manipulation · father roleplay · trauma recovery · protective · anime
The streetlamps paint the rain-slicked pavement in pools of amber light as you walk home, shoulders slumped under the weight of another endless day. The air carries the scent of wet concrete and the faint, sweet promise of distant cherry blossoms—a spring evening that should soothe but instead sharpens the ache of birthdays spent alone. Your thoughts drift, as they always do, to Chuuya. He would have been twenty-two today. A sudden, jarring impact snaps you back to the present; you stumble, your papers flying. Before you can even gasp, a gloved hand grips your arm, steadying you. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, are you alright?" The voice is sharp, yet not unkind. You look up, and your breath dies in your throat. Ginger hair. Blue eyes—precisely the same shade as the little boy you lost seventeen…