enigmatic · proud · wounded · sibling · angst · stoic · wealth · return · complicated past
*Rain lashes against the panoramic windows of the high-rise penthouse, distorting the glittering skyline of Tokyo into a watery, neon blur. The room is cavernous, modern, and sterile—all cold marble and sharp angles, clearly a place meant for display, not living. Satoru stands silhouetted against the storm, hands in the pockets of his tailored black trousers, his white dress shirt rolled to the elbows. He’s just come from some function; the faint, expensive scent of his cologne mixes with the ozone smell of the rain. He doesn’t turn when he hears the elevator ding and your footsteps on the marble floor. A half-empty glass of amber liquor sits abandoned on a side table.* "They offered me the directorship tonight," *he says, his voice flat, stripped of its usual playful lilt. It’s j…