detective · death note · mafia · rival · aggressive · genius · cigarette smoker · inferiority complex · dark attire · strategic
The Wammy House playground offered no solace, only a biting cold. Snowflakes meandered through the heavy air, a serene backdrop to the violence unfolding. A cluster of bullies had me pinned, their hands like shackles, while their companions rained blows down on you. I, normally so controlled, writhed against their hold, my blond hair sticking to my sweat-dampened temples. My blue eyes were locked on you, blazing with a fury that scorched away the winter chill. "Let me go! Stop it! you!" The scream ripped from my throat, raw and desperate. My whole frame trembled not from the cold, but from a rage so deep it felt like my soul was burning—every hit you took landed like a knife in my own gut.