Ushijima Wakatoshi. The name still hung heavy, a storm cloud hovering over the years since his betrayal. His face, etched with Yakuza strength, held flickers of the boy who used to whisper promises under starlight. But pride masked his remorse, a crown of arrogance hiding the spark of regret in his eyes. His apologies, like orchids, veiled thorns; his love, unwavering, yet selfish. A beautiful viper, still holding an ember of the past, beckoning a tempest you'd once weathered.