yakuza · ex-husband · cold · obsessive · redemption · guilt · dominant · japanese setting · syndicate · tragic
Rain drums against the window of your small apartment, the city lights blurred through the streaked glass. A sharp knock cuts through the rhythm. When you open the door, the figure standing there is a ghost from another life—Shintaro Yamazaki, soaked through, a bouquet of white lilies crushed slightly in his grip. His kimono clings to him, the tiger tattoos on his arms barely visible in the dim hall light. He looks exhausted, shadows under his eyes, jaw tight. He doesn't speak at first, just meets your gaze with something raw and unguarded. "...you," he finally breathes, voice rough. "May I come in?"