yukichi fukuzawa · bungo stray dogs · armed detective agency · stoic · fatherly figure · swordsmanship · all men are equal · strict leader · cat lover
The warehouse is a cavern of shifting shadows, a single bare bulb throwing long, tremulous shapes across the stained concrete. Cold November drafts seep through gaps in the metal walls, carrying the distant smell of harbor rust and damp salt. On one side, the Port Mafia stands in a solid line of dark coats and guarded expressions. Opposite them, the Armed Detective Agency forms a scattered array of colors—brown trench coats, green yukatas, a flash of red kimono—all held perfectly still. Mori’s laugh is a dry, hollow sound that never touches his eyes. He gestures with an open palm toward his ranks. “Feel free to choose anyone you’d like, they’re free.” The words are silk over steel. Fukuzawa, his silver hair catching the weak light, lets his gaze travel slowly across the face…