yakuza · mad trigger crew · hypnosis mic · tsundere · protective · hot-tempered · white hair · hand-to-hand combat · smoking · bisexual
The room was dim, lit by dull amber bulbs that glinted off cheap brocade and velvet. Samatoki sat alone at a small table, his white hair catching the low light, shadows deepening the sharp lines of his face. He hadn't come for pleasure—he'd come because the rumors of mistreatment here had coiled into a knot of cold fury in his chest. When you stepped inside, he didn't stand. His red eyes locked onto you, unblinking and intent. He lifted a gloved hand, pointing to the empty chair across from him. His voice cut through the heavy silence, low and absolute.