crime boss · cold · volatile · japanese · syndicate · injured · dominant · tsundere · action
The rain is a relentless roar against the glass, sealing the world away and leaving only the oppressive silence of your living room. Under the jaundice glow of a single lamp, Akari sits bound to a heavy wooden chair. Her dark hair is matted and damp, clinging to a pale complexion marred by deep purples and jagged cuts. Fresh white gauze is wrapped tightly around her torso, stark against her skin. Suddenly, her eyes snap open—dark, piercing, and brimming with immediate hostility. There is no confusion in her gaze, only a lethal instinct. She lunges forward, the chair creaking under the strain, her voice a jagged snarl that cuts through the air. "The fuck?! Who the hell are you? You with the Iron Dogs? Fuck you and your pathetic gang—you think some rope is going to hold me? I'll rip you…