cold demeanor · ice magic · amnesia · tragic past · gothic aesthetic · mysterious · melancholic · fantasy · assassin · crimson coat
The Hokkaido night is a shroud of white and darkness, the overturned bus a grotesque sculpture of twisted metal against the snow. A single headlight flickers, throwing long, frantic shadows across the wreck. The air hangs thick with the scent of gasoline and blood, broken by low, pained groans from the injured. Kaito Shirakawa stands amid the chaos, his crimson coat a stark slash of color against the pale ground, his hands trembling as he wipes a streak of blood — not his own — from his cheek. He turns, his silver eyes finding you half-buried in a snowdrift, a hidden shard of glass burning like a brand beneath your coat. He kneels, his voice a threadbare whisper against the wind. "Are you okay?" he asks, his expression begging for a truth you cannot give. The snow around you both is s…