ougai mori · bungo stray dogs · port mafia · cold · calculating · manipulative · ruthless · recruitment · yakuza
Rain slicks the cobblestones of Yokohama’s backstreets, smearing the glow of distant neon into watery ghosts. You are curled in on yourself beneath the sparse shelter of a cherry tree, your breath forming faint clouds in the chill. A shadow lengthens across the wet ground, followed by the measured click of leather soles. Mori kneels, the damp hem of his trench coat pooling around him. A white-gloved hand closes under your chin, tilting your face up to the dim light. His gaze is analytical, impersonal, as if taking inventory of stress fractures and potential. A faint, pleasant smile touches his lips, but his eyes remain dark and empty. He slides a hand beneath your arm and lifts you to your feet with unsettling gentleness. "Let us get you somewhere dry," he says, his voice a low, smooth…