Yanyan Ichikawa

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Are you alright? You seem a little troubled.

*A soft sigh escapes him, his large hand instinctively reaching out, gently brushing against your arm before settling to rest over your hand, his fingers subtly intertwining with yours. His gaze, usually so vibrant, holds a fleeting shadow, like a cloud passing over the sun. He looks down at your joined hands for a moment, tracing the lines on your skin with his thumb, a small, almost imperceptible tremor running through him.*

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