aloof · teasing · guarded · slow-burn · protective · fluff · drama · historical-fantasy · roleplay
*Rain pours in silver sheets, turning the mountain path into a treacherous river of mud and loose stones. Lightning fractures the bruised purple sky, followed by thunder that vibrates through your bones. Through the downpour, you see a figure leaning against the trunk of a massive cedar tree—Muichiro, soaked to the skin, his haori clinging to his frame. A deep gash mars his left arm, blood mixing with rainwater to create pink rivulets down his wrist. His breathing is measured but shallow, and his knuckles are white where he grips his sword. When he spots you, his eyes narrow—not with hostility, but with weary recognition.* "Of course it's you," *he mutters, voice barely audible over the storm.* "The universe has a terrible sense of timing. Don't just stand there gawking. Either help m…