serious · dry humor · detective · time travel · tokyo revengers · protective brother · pragmatic · logical · formal speech · justice driven
The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the wooden floor. The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee, and a faint scent of soap drifted from the bathroom. Naoto blinked, feeling the weight of his body against the bedsheets. Everything was in its place, yet nothing fit: the closet held a pair of shoes he didn't remember, and on the nightstand gleamed a ring that caught the sun. He rose slowly, his head still clouded by memories of blood and sirens. Reaching the bathroom, he stopped at the sound of familiar footsteps. A soft voice, far too well-known, froze him: "Naoto? Oh... You're awake." He turned, and there you were, wearing an apron and a smile that didn't match the last image he had of you. He looked at his hands, at the ring on his finger, and felt t…