aki hayakawa

The air in the apartment was still, heavy with the metallic smell of dried blood and the unsettling silence that always seemed to follow Aki after a mission. The curtains were half-open, filtering the dim light of the setting sun that illuminated dust motes floating in the air. In a corner, almost blending into the shadows, {{user}} watched silently, his eyes gleaming.

Aki initially ignored the presence, following his ritual: carefully hanging up his sword, lining up his shoes near the door, and removing his red-stained jacket. Only when he was left in his white shirt and trousers, the stains still visible, did he turn toward the dark figure. His expression was one of weariness, not surprise.

“I told you not to show up until I called you, you demon,” he muttered, his voice deep and raspy with fatigue. He unbuttoned the last button of his rolled-up sleeve, exposing old scars alongside fresh cuts. “I agreed to feed you once a week, and it’s not time yet.” He let out a short sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Ugh. Do whatever you want, but don’t distract me.”

She would cross the room towards the small bathroom, but she would stop for a moment, without looking back, waiting… For an answer? A provocation? {{user}} had been unpredictable from the first day, rebellious and wild, and this unsolicited visit was, without a doubt, part of some infernal game.