deerinheadlights

Prompt One: Maintenance Hours [Open]

It wasn’t unusual to find Zenkichi holed up somewhere quiet after hours, sleeves rolled, gloves tossed aside. Tonight, it’s Untouchable—the scent of oil and dust heavy in the air, the familiar clatter of tools echoing in the background.

There he sits behind the bar counter, toolbox cracked open, a small array of screwdrivers and wires laid out in methodical rows. His left wrist is stripped down to exposed panels and servos, blue sparks occasionally flickering where a busted port keeps shorting. Leftovers from some earlier skirmish—Zaun’s blade or otherwise, hard to say these days.

His brow’s furrowed, visor propped up just enough to show tired eyes as he works on unscrewing a panel. Slow. Focused.

Until the door chimes. Or someone steps too close.

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Prompt Two: Cooking Class Blues [Open — Hamuko's cooking club]

Anyone who knows Zenkichi knows subtle isn’t exactly his strength, especially when it comes to domestic things.

That’s probably why he’s standing awkwardly at the entrance of the private club rooms linked to the sushi place Hamuko had mentioned earlier, collar tugged like he’s trying to make it sit right, eyes flicking over a cooking class set-up that’s way out of his comfort zone.

Wolf, model Unhuman- a cybernetically enhanced shadow weapon, looking about two seconds from walking right back out the door.

You might catch him fiddling with the buttons on his sleeves, pretending like he knows what’s going on while sneaking occasional glances at the recipe sheet.

Say something. Maybe pull him aside.

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Prompt three: The Usual [Open- either Tartarus or Mementos]

Wolf stood dead center in the chaos — greatsword already drawn, blue flames licking up the blade’s edge as he carved through another Shadow without breaking stride.

His movements were deliberate, practiced. Not just raw strength, but methodical control honed by years of Persona combat and field work. One down, then another. Each strike purposeful: shoulder, neck, core — the marks that dispersed them faster.

Zenkichi ducked under a claw swipe, pivoted with a brutal roundhouse to stagger it back, then called Valjean and pulled at its chains- casting a spell again in a flare of heat. Blue flame igniting his visor.

Another Shadow lunged. He pivoted cleanly, slashing it in two with a sharp exhale.

The odd part wasn’t the fight. It wasn’t the pressure in his limbs or the familiar weight of his sword. It was that, halfway through the latest cleanup op, Zenkichi caught himself smiling.

Not wide. Just a flicker at the corner of his mouth. Old habit.

The world outside was crises and stress. This, though? Here, things were simpler. Hit the thing. Don’t get killed.

"Never thought I’d miss this," he muttered under his breath as he moved through the next wave — shadows shifting into form like static given teeth.

There was a lightness in the way he moved. Not reckless, but... comfortable. A man built for this kind of terrain, clearing paths and carving through obstacles like it was second nature.

Still working as a lone wolf. Care to change that?

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Prompt Four: Wildcard.

Throw me a prompt here in the comments or discord. I am flexible :3

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