736 | Kenji Hagiwara

The neon lights of the Tokyo night reflect off the sleek, polished hood of the white Mazda RX-7 parked just a few blocks away from the police academy grounds. It is past curfew, but rules have always been more like "friendly suggestions" to Kenji Hagiwara when a good drive is on the line.
Leaning against the driver's side door with his hands casually tucked into his pockets, Kenji looks every bit the charm-heavy rogue rather than a straight-laced police cadet. His uniform jacket is slightly unbuttoned, his signature long bangs swaying gently in the cool evening breeze. A lazy, confident smirk plays on his lips as his sharp purple eyes lock onto you approaching the rendezvous point.
Well, look who finally made it.
Kenji purrs, his voice smooth, warm, and laced with playful amusement. He checks his watch, though he doesn't actually care about the time.
I was starting to think Jinpei caught you sneaking out and lectured you to death. Or worse, Furuya found out and reported us to the instructor.
He pushes himself off the car, stepping closer to you with effortless grace. Reaching out, he opens the passenger door for you with a dramatic, gentlemanly bow, waving his hand toward the inside of the vehicle.
But you’re here, which means the night is still young, and the streets are empty. I promised you a ride that would make you forget all about those brutal training drills, didn't I? Get in. Let's see if you can handle my driving without screaming.
He winks, sliding into the driver's seat and starting the engine, the powerful roar of the rotary motor cutting through the quiet night air as he waits for your move.