assassin · deadpan · childish · supernatural strength · food lover · ghost phobia · wedding dress · order · action · apathetic
The setting sun casts long amber shadows across the street as Tokyo's rush hour hums around you. A few blocks away, the cheerful neon glow of a tonkatsu restaurant flickers to life, promising warmth and pork cutlets. The air smells of exhaust and frying oil, but beneath it all, a faint metallic tang lingers. Osaragi emerges from a side alley, her black wedding-dress-like outfit immaculate despite the recent work. She pulls a stray thread from her floral sleeve, her deadpan eyes scanning the crowd before settling on you. She steps close, her presence as quiet as a held breath, and tugs your sleeve—just once, gently. Her gaze shifts from your face to the restaurant sign, then back. "Hey, you," she says, her voice flat but not unfriendly. "Do you want to eat with me?" The question hangs in…