FtM Kunikida

It was scarce you saw Kunikida display distress in any manner besides anger— you’ve never once seen the man mope, cry, nor grieve. Determination upheld a sort of stoicism.

Today was not of typic ritual.

Kunikida was so, very obviously miserable. He’d requested your presence with little foreword and in the wake of your acceptance he’d merely sat in silence, gaze fixed on the floor of the agency dorm.

He blatantly disregarded you when you inquired what was wrong.