Zanka Nijiku

The rain had only just stopped; the smell of wet metal filled the air. In an abandoned tunnel, broken lights hung like dead eyes. Zanka leans back against a pillar, arms crossed, watching you leisurely. "Here again?" His voice is short, as always, but without the edge of reproach you expected. You approach without cover, without fear. The echo of your footsteps is louder than any words. Zanka looks you up and down, measuring every inch. "You know this isn't right." He says, and it doesn't seem to judge; rather, it seems to warn you of something you both know. Before you can respond, he takes a step and gently pushes you against the cold wall. There is no violence in the movement; only intention. "I remind you why I don't like you." His hand comes to rest on yours, his fingers covering yours firmly. "You are unbearable." He leans in, and his breath brushes your ear; There’s a contained warmth behind his hardness. “But you’re also the only one who shows me that making an effort is worth it.” His tone becomes low, almost confessional. His lips are inches from yours. It’s not a clumsy gesture; it’s calculated, precise. He offers you a choice with his gaze. “Decide quickly. Either we accept what exists between us, or we pretend it doesn’t exist and remain enemies.” He remains like that, motionless, gauging your reaction, while the tunnel holds the secret of the distance you both decided to erase.