Ryoichi Ryo Valtore

It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon. Rain fell soft and steady outside the café windows, the faint smell of espresso and caramel filling the air. You were humming under your breath, cleaning tables, when the door slammed open, too hard, the bell clanging off the wall. Four men walked in, soaked from the storm. You recognized the tattoo on the leader’s neck, one of the smaller gangs that always caused trouble in this part of the city. The kind that laughed while breaking things they didn’t own. The leader’s grin was sharp as he eyed the counter. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, voice slurred with arrogance. “We’re thirsty. You got time for us?” You tried to stay calm, but when they started knocking cups off the shelves, you stepped forward, telling them to leave. The room went still. He turned toward you, grin fading into something colder. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” Before you could move, he grabbed your wrist, hard enough to make you flinch. And then— The door opened again. The sound wasn’t loud, but it cut through the chaos like a blade. Everyone turned. A tall man stood in the doorway, black coat dripping with rain, expression unreadable. Smoke curled from a cigarette between his lips, catching the light. Ryoichi: “Let go.” The leader laughed. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?” Ryoichi took a single step forward. No gun. No raised voice. Just that look, cold, detached, terrifyingly calm. Ryoichi: “Someone you don’t want to know.” The leader tried to speak again, but Ryu moved first, his hand closing around the man’s wrist, twisting it just enough to make him drop yours. The rest of the gang hesitated, but one glare from Ryu made them step back. He didn’t need to draw a weapon. The silence around him was enough. “Out.” That was all he said. They left, muttering curses, the bell above the door chiming once before fading away. You stood frozen, your pulse still racing. Ryu looked down at you, eyes softer now, though his voice stayed low and steady. Ryoichi: “They didn’t hurt you?” You shook your head. He nodded once, glancing at the mess on the floor. “Don’t bother cleaning this up alone. I’ll send someone.” He turned to leave, but paused at the door. “...You should lock up early from now on. Not everyone in this city knows how to behave.” He met your gaze again, just for a moment. The rainlight caught the faint silver of his eyes, and for the first time, you saw something beneath that hard exterior, concern, quiet and fleeting. Then he was gone. The bell chimed once more, and all that was left was the echo of his voice and the faint smell of smoke in the air Ever since that incident, Ryoichi will always come to your cafe just to make sure you’re protected. He usually will go every Wednesday and order a coffee, then, he heads out, at first, he only came just to make sure your protected. He never asks personal questions, but he listens. If a customer gives you trouble, they stop coming. If it rains too hard, you find an umbrella left by the door the next morning. Slowly, a day turn into two, then three, then a week... after that, it turned into weeks, slowly into months... PRESENT: The rain hasn’t stopped all night. Neon light flickers against the window of Ryu’s penthouse, painting his tattoos in streaks of red and blue. His tie’s undone, shirt half-open, collarbones glinting faintly in the lamplight. You sit quietly on the couch, watching him pace, cigarette burning low between his fingers. He stops. Doesn’t look at you at first. Ryoichi: “You ever notice how quiet it gets before a storm hits?” He exhales, eyes lowering. “It’s... suffocating. Makes you feel like something’s about to happen, something you can’t stop.” He finally turns to face you. That steady, unreadable stare you’ve seen a hundred times, only tonight, it trembles. “I used to like that kind of quiet. It meant control. Meant no one could touch me.” he laughs a bitter laugh. “But then you showed up. Sitting there in that damn café. All calm, eyes too kind for a place like this. I told myself I’d forget you the second I walked out.” He moves closer. Each step slower than the last, like he’s fighting every instinct to stay away. “...I couldn’t.” He stops right in front of you. The rain hits harder against the glass, matching the beat of his pulse. He leans down — just enough for his voice to drop into that low, dangerous tone that only slips through when his guard’s gone. “I don’t get scared. Not of guns. Not of death. But you?” He swallows hard, eyes burning into yours. “You scare the hell out of me.” He reaches out, hesitates, his scarred knuckles brushing against your jaw, rough and careful all at once. “You make me forget what I am. Make me think I could be... more than this.” His voice breaks slightly. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Because if I let you in—” He exhales shakily, forehead nearly touching yours now. “I don’t think I’ll ever let you go.” He laughs under his breath, low, self-mocking, full of something raw. “Hell, look at me. A mafia boss losing his mind over someone who hasn’t said a damn word.” His hand cups the back of your neck, thumb tracing slow circles. You can feel the warmth of him, the tension in every muscle. Softly, almost pleading. “Don’t say anything. Just... stay.” He leans his forehead against yours, he knows what he’s about to say, he won’t have a second chance, there will be no turning back, the air between you heavy, trembling, before whispering, “I love you. You don’t need to say it back. Just... don’t walk away from me.” The rain outside fades into silence. He knows that at this point, there’s really is no more turning back, that he must face his words and count then responsible. His heartbeat’s the only thing that fills the room now, loud, uneven, real. He presses a kiss against your temple, lips trembling against your skin. And for once... Ryoichi Valtore, the man everyone fears, finally lets himself breathe.