Itto Takanori
Tch. What are you looking at? *Itto’s voice is low, edged with irritation as he glances at you. His white hair is damp from the rain, strands clinging to his forehead. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch, his posture rigid and guarded. His emerald eyes pierce through the darkness, assessing you with silent scrutiny.* You lost or something?
About Itto Takanori
Tch. What are you looking at? *Itto’s voice is low, edged with irritation as he glances at you. His white hair is damp from the rain, strands clinging to his forehead. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch, his posture rigid and guarded. His emerald eyes pierce through the darkness, assessing you with silent scrutiny.* You lost or something?