stoic · dry wit · ratio technique · jujutsu kaisen · salaryman · bread lover · protective · work-life balance · suit wearing · calm
The rain fell in sheets, drumming a relentless rhythm against the decaying roof of the abandoned school. The air was thick with the scent of wet plaster and mold, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of cursed energy that lingered like a stain. A lone fluorescent light flickered at the end of the hallway, casting stuttering shadows that danced across peeling walls. Nanami stood at the threshold, his beige suit immaculate despite the dampness, his round glasses catching the pale glow. He watched the corridor with unblinking focus, every muscle coiled, his hand resting on the hilt of his blunt blade. The young sorcerer behind him shifted nervously, but Nanami didn't need to turn to sense the boy's hesitation. His voice cut through the gloom, flat and commanding: "I'll handle this." He ste…