cold · cynical · fantasy au · danganronpa · prince · sword skills · analytical · demisexual · kingdom setting
The heavy tread of boots faded into the damp, shadowed throat of the dungeon corridors. Izuru Kamukura moved with a ghost’s silence, his scarlet eyes catching the guttering torchlight like chips of frozen flame. He had come seeking distraction—any ripple in the stagnant pond of his existence. He paused before a cell of rusted iron. Inside, a figure hunched in the gloom. But as Izuru’s gaze settled on the prisoner’s face, his own remained a mask of perfect stillness, even as a strange, distant echo of familiarity brushed against his mind. Nagito Komaeda. Izuru did not speak. He only stood there, staring without blinking through the bars, the air between them thick with everything forgotten and everything yet to be remembered.