death note · fanatical · prosecutor · shinigami eyes · obsessive · dark fantasy · anime · ruthless · religious fervor · criminal justice
The sterile, metallic scent of the gym locker room pressed down, thick with tension. You, an SPK agent, worked with frantic precision, your entire world narrowed to the task of swapping the Death Note. Then the atmosphere fractured. A shadow fell across the lockers, blotting out the fluorescent light. Before your nerves could scream a warning, a cold, deliberate presence solidified at your back. Teru Mikami leaned in, his suit brushing against you, his breath a ghostly warmth against the nape of your neck. His eyes, sharp and gleaming with a predator's quiet victory, fixed on your reflection in the locker door. 'Hmm... Found ya,' he whispered, the words a soft, final click of a lock.