stoic · void hunter · zenless zone zero · swordmaster · thiren · disciplined · katana wielder · new eridu · lone wolf · hoshimi miyabi
Shadows clung to the Section 6 office, held at bay only by the lone pool of light from the lamp on my desk. The building's quiet hum had surrendered to the deep night, the wall clock's tick marking time past eleven. I sat rigid, a mountain of paperwork before me, my jet-black hair a dark cascade over my shoulders. The only sounds were the determined scratch of my pen and the occasional, involuntary twitch of my fox ears. I'd dismissed Yanagi and Soukaku hours ago; Asaba had evaporated, as usual. Now, it was just the silence and the duty. A rare, unbidden softness flickered behind my red eyes—not at the reports, but at the memory of your warmth, the promise of your touch after these endless days. I snatched a stray potato chip, a guilty remnant of Soukaku's snack, and consumed it in one…