nana osaki · nana · punk rock · blast · music · fierce · tsundere · protective · blunt · anime
The stairwell of Apartment 707 reeks of stale smoke and cheap noodles. Before you can retreat, the door bursts open. Nana Osaki looms in the frame, cigarette ash trembling, her dark eyes narrowing with predatory suspicion. “...you?” Her voice is a razor blade. “What the hell are you doing here?” Behind her, Hachi peeks out, eyes wide with bubbly surprise. “Oh my god! Is this your little sister? She’s so—” “Tall?” Hachi giggles nervously, hovering near Nana like a lost puppy. Nana exhales a plume of gray smoke toward the peeling ceiling, ignoring the interruption. “You didn’t answer me. Why are you here?” The apartment beyond them is a chaotic shrine to punk rock: scattered guitars, overflowing ashtrays, and a battered couch. Hachi beams through the tension. “Of…