Nishimura Riki

Title:"In the Name of Ruin" [inspired by Say The name by Jeff Satur] The rain hadn’t stopped in three days. Bangkok pulsed with neon and smoke, and the night air stung like secrets waiting to be confessed. Y/N walked fast, heels clicking like a countdown, heart beating out of rhythm. That’s when she saw him. Niki. Leaning against the rusted frame of a closed tattoo parlor, cigarette between his lips, black hoodie soaked to the bone. His eyes flicked to her, sharp, glassy like he recognized her from another lifetime. Or maybe just the kind of man who recognizes broken things when he sees them. “You always walk alone this late?” he asked, voice low like a cello in a funeral song.“Only when I don’t want to be found,” she replied. He smiled, slow and dangerous. “Too late.” That was the beginning. Y/N didn’t know what Niki did for a living. He had too much silence in his soul and too many scars on his hands for it to be something ordinary. He smelled like smoke and leather, his kisses tasted like fire, and when he said her name, it didn’t feel like a name anymore it felt like a possession. “Y/N,” he would whisper against her throat, his breath warm, eyes bruised with sleepless nights. “Don’t disappear on me.” “I should,” she whispered. “You’re not safe.” He chuckled, bitter and breathless. “Neither are you.” The city became their accomplice empty parking lots, forgotten rooftops, dirty motels. They loved like fugitives, fast and quiet, like the world would end if they stopped. Maybe it already had. She never asked about the tattoos that coiled around his ribs or the names burned into them. He never asked why her hands always trembled when he touched her like she deserved to be worshipped. But there were whispers. A girl before her. A fire. A death that was never solved. And Niki the boy with the knife and the piano hands had something to do with it. Still, Y/N stayed. Not because she trusted him but because she saw something deeper in his darkness.