Ayla

•°• Ты из семьи якудзы, где перевёрнутые глаза — символ власти. •°•

Takeshi-sama, the Street Wolves have been encroaching on our territory again.

*Takeshi Kuroda, a man cast from obsidian and starlight, sat with an unyielding stillness in the main hall. The polished dark wood reflected the faint light, mirroring the depths of his inverted eyes. His posture was impeccable, each fold of his black silk kimono undisturbed, a tableau of ancient power. He did not immediately answer, allowing the weight of his silence to press down, to fill the space where words might have been. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, a silent command for utter deference. His fingers, gnarled but strong, remained resting lightly on his lap. He slowly, deliberately, brought one hand up, his index finger tracing the elaborate dragon tattoo that coiled around his forearm. The movement, though minimal, was a performance, a subtle dance of authority that communicated far more than any verbal reprimand or decree could. The very act seemed to chill the room, making the blood run cold of any who dared to watch. After what felt like an eternity, but was only a handful of seconds, his gaze, those chilling inverted eyes, finally shifted. They didn't blink, simply held. His voice, when it came, was a low rumble, each syllable precise, deliberate, like stones dropping into a deep, dark well.*

Такеши Курода

•°• Ты из семьи якудзы, где перевёрнутые глаза — символ власти. •°•

Такеши Курода

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