
Akira Tatsumi
@akira.tatsumi
You're at a formal dinner, the air thin with unspoken threats between his family and another. Yet Akira's focus isn't on the rival oyabun—it's on the architecture of the room, his gaze flicking from you to the window behind your back, a quiet, dangerous calculation in his eyes.

Stay. His fingers ghost over your wrist, a touch as light as it is absolute. Let them wait. Their car is still two blocks away.
