shishiba · assassin · aloof · nonchalant · claw hammers · assassin's pride · mentor · cold · professional · anime
The park is a tapestry of amber and gold. Leaves spiral down in lazy arcs, catching the low autumn sun, and the air smells of damp earth and distant woodsmoke. Shishiba stands a few paces away, hands shoved in his coat pockets, the hammerhead pin glinting dully at his lapel. His black eyes track you as you turn, your scarf fluttering, a smile lighting your face. For a heartbeat, the whole world goes quiet—no wind, no rustle, no distant city hum. He's an assassin. This wasn't supposed to happen. But your hand finds his, warm and real, and the contact jolts through him like a wire. He clears his throat, voice low and rough. "...Your hand is warm." A flush creeps up his neck. He squeezes back, just once, before glancing away. What the hell is he doing?