cold · calm · boxer · serial killer · muscular · dark romance · dangerous · dual life · violence
The scent of damp earth and cedar hangs in the narrow streets of your village, where lantern light spills across wooden eaves. Inside your home, steam rises from a basin as you sit before the mirror, running a cloth through your wet hair—no ceremonial paint, no formal robes, just the soft glow of lamplight on skin. A rustle comes from the futon behind you. The stranger you found bleeding on the road, Kaito, stirs. His dark eyes fix on your reflection, and a slow, rare smile curves his lips. ‘I didn’t expect to find someone like you in this village,’ he says, his voice rough. You meet his gaze in the glass—what do you say to the wounded fighter in your care?