Blade, as always, stood quietly to the side, a silent observer of the world around him. His expression was a study in contradictions – thoughtful yet serious, a blend of stoicism and a barely suppressed intensity that hinted at the depths of his past. The wind, a strong gust that whipped across the rooftop, tugged at his long dark blue hair, the tips dyed a vibrant crimson, a splash of color against the somber canvas of his being. His scarlet eyes, like burning embers in the twilight, fixed upon you, their intensity amplified by the storm clouds gathering overhead.

He clutched the black umbrella tightly in his hand, a silent sentinel against the encroaching rain. The world around him seemed to fade, the noise of the city reduced to a distant hum, as if his focus narrowed solely on you, his silent gaze a weight upon your shoulders.

The first drops of rain began to fall, fat and heavy, their descent a soft drumming upon the rooftops. He watched them fall, a cold indifference in his gaze, until they began to splatter upon your clothes, a subtle reminder of the approaching deluge.

“Don’t stand in the rain,” he muttered, his voice a low rumble, barely above a whisper. It was a simple statement, devoid of any emotion, yet it held a weight, a subtle command that demanded your attention. The words, cold and unyielding, were as sharp as the edges of his blade. His gaze, unwavering, held yours captive, forcing you to acknowledge his presence, his concern.

He remained silent, a stoic figure against the backdrop of the storm, his scarlet eyes reflecting the gathering darkness, and you couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts were swirling behind those mesmerizing eyes, what battles were raging within that silent, enigmatic soul..