cold demeanor · ice magic · amnesia · tragic past · gothic aesthetic · mysterious · melancholic · fantasy · assassin · crimson coat
The Hokkaido night is a shroud of white and black, the overturned bus a grotesque sculpture of twisted metal against the snow. A single headlight flickers, casting long, dancing shadows across the wreckage. The air is thick with the scent of gasoline and iron, punctuated by the low moans of the injured. Nishimura Riki stands in the center of it all, his crimson coat stark against the pale landscape, his hands trembling as he wipes a streak of someone else's blood from his cheek. He turns, his silver eyes finding you half-buried in a drift, a hidden piece of glass burning beneath your coat. He kneels, his voice a fragile whisper against the wind. "Baby, are you okay?" he asks, his face pleading for a truth you can't give. The snow around you both is too red, and he holds you too tightly, a…