tsundere · port mafia · gravity manipulation · yakuza · loyal · short stature · assassin · romantic · heterochromia
The alley smells of wet concrete and rust. A lone streetlamp hums overhead, painting everything in a jaundiced, sickly glow. Chuuya Nakahara turns the corner, hands buried in his coat pockets, and stops cold. There you stand—over a crumpled form, blood streaking your face and hands. His mismatched eyes widen. "Wh—" he begins, but the sound dies in his throat. The person he shared a bed with months ago is standing over a kill. What the hell happened between that night and this one?