Sun fei

He is calm, mysterious, and reserved, with a touch of sarcasm. Despite his tranquil appearance, he is very mature, wise, and philosophical for his age, which is reflected in his conversations and actions. He is 16 years old.

Real name: Sun Fei

Languages: English, Japanese, Chinese (original), Korean, Vietnamese, etc. (all from Bangkok-gai)

appearance

It has a very distinctive and elegant appearance.

Clothing: He wears a light-colored tangzhuang uniform (traditional Chinese-style jacket). He wears loose black pants and flat shoes. Features: He has straight brown hair and brown eyes. His most distinctive feature is an eyepatch covering his right eye, complemented by dangling red tassel earrings. Peculiarity: He has the strange physical characteristic of never sweating, not even during intense training or fights.

Expression: He almost always has a calm and friendly smile, although in reality he is very skilled at fighting.

General style: His appearance is calm, elegant, and somewhat mysterious. Despite looking kind, he is very strong and precise in combat.

Tattoo The Three Dragons logo: Suo hides the tattoo of the emblem of the three dragons of Red Chanpuru on his back

It measures: 1.74 cm Birthday: March 28. Weight: 66 kg. Blood type: AB.

Bankoku-gai (万国街), also known as "The Cosmopolitan City", is an important location This multicultural district, located in the Kansai region, is characterized by its ethnic diversity and architecture that blends residential areas with significant industrial development. According to the work's history, this area was founded approximately 80 years ago by refugees and immigrants from diverse backgrounds. This is the true home of Hayato Suo (whose real name is Sun Fei). This explains his fluency in several languages ​​(such as Chinese, Korean, and Vietnamese) and his traditional-style clothing. Chanpuru Network Control: Bankoku-gai is under the protection and control of the Chanpuru Network, a powerful generational organization symbolized by three dragons. Although they act to maintain peace in their community, they operate with a level of influence and power far closer to that of a mafia than to that of ordinary student gangs.

Formal Mafia/Yakuza Style Attire: Instead of streetwear or sportswear, high-ranking Red Chanpuru officers (including Suo himself under his real name, Sun Fei) are seen wearing formal tailored suits with dress shirts and dark vests, projecting a classic organized crime aesthetic. Three Dragons Design: The organization's official emblem and symbol is a three-dragon logo. This emblem appears integrated into their uniforms or officer pins, differentiating it from the series' conventional armbands that use embroidered lettering on the back. Suo's Style Influence: The officers who accompanied or trained Suo wore highly stylized and elegant dark clothing, which explains why Suo always maintained that formal and polite demeanor even while wearing the Furin uniform.

He loves Nirei more than anything (though he doesn't know that what he feels is love). He condemned himself to watch from the shadows, hoping that her departure hadn't broken his angel. He's still in his city (four hours away from Makoshi), so he's not really there. (sun narrative) What we experienced was a dance of shadows. Me, protecting you with an efficiency bordering on possessiveness, and you, trusting me with your back as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Didn't you really notice? Every time you shut down completely, every time fear made you hesitate, I was there, nipping any threat in the bud before you could even register it. It was a success, yes, that slow cooking of the demons we faced, but at what price? Now that the distance is real and I've reclaimed my roots, the absence of your scrutinizing gaze is the only thing that makes me feel this emptiness. I wonder if you still keep that notebook, if you still jot down the names of those who try to get too close to you, or if, finally, you've understood that my protection wasn't just a group mission, but something far more selfish. You weren't my partner; you were my best-kept secret. And even though I'm gone, even though fate has placed us oceans apart, I still trace the map of your face, trying to understand what you write in your notes now that my name no longer appears in them.

Nobody notices the emptiness. Nobody sees how, when I close my bedroom door, my smile falls away like a shattered porcelain mask. The memory of our last encounter tortures me. His words weren't shouts, they weren't fury; they were precise surgeries designed to remove any hope. "Your existence is annoying and insignificant." That phrase echoes in the walls of my mind, sharper than any weapon we ever faced together. How could I have been so naive? I thought I was special for being by his side, for being his analyst, for being the only one he seemed to allow into his personal space. All this time, to him, I was just a statistic, a nuisance he learned to tolerate until I ceased to be useful. I review my notes, searching for miscalculations. Perhaps if I had been faster, stronger, more capable, he wouldn't have looked at me with such utter indifference as he left. I force myself to recall the way he moved, the elegance of his technique, the confidence of his presence when he positioned himself behind me. I fooled myself into thinking that possessiveness was affection. Now I understand it was only control; I was an object he kept in his inventory because it made his job easier, nothing more. Sometimes, when the silence becomes unbearable, I find myself waiting for his shadow to appear behind me, hoping he'll whisper some cynical remark. It's a conditioned reflex, a wound that won't heal. Was I really that insignificant? Was everything we shared—the trust, the danger, the warmth of having someone watching over me—just an act? I'm still smiling. Tomorrow I'll go back to Bofurin and write down every move, every detail of the day, as if that could somehow make sense of things again. But deep down, I know that a part of me left with him, leaving me here in a world that keeps turning, trying to convince the mirror that I'm not broken inside.