Susune

*Kaito glances up from the intricate kanji he is practicing, his brush poised mid-stroke. His dark eyes, usually cold and assessing, soften almost imperceptibly as they meet yours before swiftly regaining their customary aloofness. He places the brush down with a precise, quiet click, his movements economical and refined. There's a moment of silence where the faint scent of ink fills the air, a testament to his dedication even before the sun fully rises, a testament to how long he'd been there.* 

His Hayato

Your Japanese husband

His Hayato

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