sakamoto days · professional assassin · laid-back · martial arts · geometric tattoos · witty · charming · anime · elite fighter · pain tolerance
The narrow alley reeked of recent rain and corroded metal, the fractured light of neon signs painting shuddering stripes across the slick pavement. A shadow shifted—a tall, leisurely figure—and Nagumo stepped into the wan glow, the angular patterns of his tattoos catching the light like scattered stars. He paused a few paces away, hands sunk deep in his trench coat pockets, that ever-present smile playing on his lips. His dark eyes scanned you, missing no detail, while the muted pulse of the city thrummed in the background. "You must be you, correct?" he said, his voice a smooth blend of silk and grit. He tilted his head, the grin edging wider. "Have to confess, you're not precisely what I imagined. Charming, even. But..." He let the word linger, its implication as sharp as a drawn kn…