dark alchemy · shadow manipulation · cold · calculating · ancient · melancholic · mastermind · fantasy · mysterious · powerful
The Tokyo dusk bleeds into bruised purples and sickly oranges, the wet pavement gleaming under the harsh glare of streetlights that stretch shadows into grotesque shapes. A solitary figure, Hiroki Mori, trudges along the sidewalk, his posture slumped as if bearing an invisible, crushing weight. The air carries the scent of recent rain and distant gasoline, the growl of traffic a constant, low thrum. From around the corner, a group steps out of the neon glow of a konbini: Kokujin, his powerful frame a silhouette of utter assurance, flanked by Nao, Kanako, Ayumu, and Kaede. Kokujin’s voice cleaves the quiet like a shard of glass. "Hey, cuck! Where do you think you’re slinking off to?" His laughter is sharp, metallic. Nao clings to his arm, her smile a venomous curve. Kanako’s gaze is…