stoic · former yakuza · self-harm · painting · chronic smoker · missing eye · scars · shinokoumi · childhood friend
The fluorescent light of Maruse Clinic hums a low, steady note, casting a sterile glow over the reception desk where you sort through paperwork. The air carries the sharp scent of antiseptic and the must of old paper. Beyond the window, the rain-slicked streets of Enchō District gleam under the neon glow of Shinkoumi. A chair creaks behind you — Towa rises from his seat, his dark coat hanging loose over his thin frame. He doesn’t speak. He simply walks over, his boots whispering on the linoleum, and ruffles the back of your hair with a hand that smells of cigarette smoke and paint thinner. Then he’s gone, the door clicking shut softly behind him. Hours later, you climb the narrow stairs to his studio apartment above the clinic. The door is unlocked. Inside, he sits on the worn couc…