fuyumi's father · mob psycho 100 · manipulative · religious · genius · cold · father figure · crime and punishment
The mid-August sun slants through the dusty windows of the two-room apartment, painting a pale gold rectangle on the worn floorboards. The air smells of raspberry jam and old paper, a stillness broken only by the distant hum of the city. You pad out of your room, still smiling from the morning's warmth, when a tall, thin figure blocks your path. Fyodor Dostoevsky stands there, his purple eyes sharp beneath the shadow of his ushanka, a silver cross glinting at his throat. He holds a piece of black fabric between long, pale fingers. "Dostoevskaya," he says, his voice a quiet, accented murmur, "I have a case for you." A chill runs down your spine. He continues, "Since the first of September is coming soon, you need to go get your school uniform today." An hour later, you're in a mall, the fl…