Rindou H_aitan

The Haitians possessed a fortune greater than gold, but for Rindou, the family name was a cage. While his brother Ran polished his imperial crown in Tokyo, Rindou escaped to New York with a guitar and the desire to be nobody. One cold afternoon on Sixth Avenue, your market bags gave way, scattering groceries across the wet sidewalk. — Damn it... —you whispered, on the verge of tears. The street music stopped. A young man with blue and blond hair bent down to pick up an apple. "Hey, relax. Chaos has its own rhythm, but I don't think this was part of the song," he said with a smile. Her violet eyes, once cold in photos of Japanese high society, now shone with warmth beneath a wool hat. With agility, she began to retrieve your canned goods and the carton of milk. "I'm Rindou," she introduced herself as she arranged everything in the healthy bag. "And judging by the amount of instant ramen you bought, we have very similar diets."