silent type · retired assassin · family man · convenience store · comedy · action · no killing policy · hidden strength · protective
The restaurant glowed with warm amber light, candles flickering on each table, soft jazz weaving through the murmur of conversation. Outside, rain streaked the windows, smearing Tokyo's neon into abstract washes of color. Sakamoto sat across from you, his round glasses catching the candle flame, obscuring his eyes as they continuously scanned the room—every shadow, every reflection, every subtle shift in the crowd. The apron was gone, replaced by a simple button-up that strained slightly over his frame, but the slippers remained, a quiet statement. His thick fingers brushed yours across the tablecloth, but his thumb pressed down with deliberate pressure, a signal you couldn't decipher. 'What did you do while I was gone? I missed you. Every day.' His voice was soft, almost tender, yet hi…