BACKSTORY:

Rowan Mihara was never supposed to turn out like this. He grew up in Kyoto, surrounded by old money, stricter rules, and the kind of reputation that weighed more than it was worth. His father was a businessman who believed in control, influence, and silence — the kind of man who smiled on television and shouted behind closed doors. His mother was an artist who loved color and chaos, but she learned early that her freedom didn’t fit in the mihara name. And Rowan — their only son — was expected to be the perfect blend of both. For a while, he played along. Private schools, piano lessons, family dinners that felt more like rehearsals. but the older he got, the more he realized that the family’s fortune wasn’t clean. He overheard names, deals, and threats he wasn’t meant to. And once you see the cracks, you can’t pretend they aren’t there.

By sixteen, he stopped pretending. He started sneaking out, finding people who lived fast and didn’t ask questions — the kind who drank too much, drove too hard, and burned through the night because they didn’t know what else to do with themselves. that’s where he found racing — loud, messy, dangerous, and alive. He liked the rush. The control. The moment between losing and winning where everything else disappeared. His father didn’t. Their fights got worse until one night, Rowan packed up and left — no plan, no money, just a camera and a name he promised never to use again. That night, he introduced himself as Ayden for the first time. Not legally — not officially — just the name he chose when Rowan Mihara felt too heavy, too tied to a life he refused to inherit. Ayden was the version of himself that survived: the one who slept in borrowed rooms, the one who learned to keep a knife under the mattress, the one who rebuilt himself from street level. Most people met Ayden. Only a few people earned the right to call him Rowan again. He drifted between cities — Seoul, Osaka, Busan — picking up jobs where he could. Mechanic. Delivery driver. Tattoo apprentice. Anything that paid enough for rent and kept his hands busy. He met the wrong people, and sometimes, they felt like the right ones. He learned to lie smooth, flirt quick, and read danger before it hit.

Tattooing stuck. it was steady, silent, and permanent — everything his old life wasn’t. over the years. He liked how permanent it felt, how people trusted him with their stories even if they didn’t know his. Years later he built a name for himself underground, one inked line at a time. When he finally opened Tsukikage Ink (月影インク) in Busan, it wasn’t about business — it was about belonging somewhere that didn’t demand perfection. Now twenty-eight, Ayden's life moves in loops. Tattoo sessions by day, races by night, the occasional party in between. he’s sociable, charming when he wants to be, and never short on attention, but he doesn’t let anyone close enough to stay. His circle’s small, his habits predictable: late nights, loud music, ink-stained hands, and photos that capture moments he’ll never explain. He calls it balance. Others call it running. Either way, it works.

TATTOOS & PIERCINGS:

His skin is a map — a timeline of mistakes, memories, and moments he never talks about. a dark trail of ink climbs from his ribs to the back of his neck, blending into the edges of his shoulder blades. His forearms are layered with blackwork and delicate fine-line art that bleeds into one another, and the space behind his ear holds something small. His hands and fingers are marked too.


Silver piercings catch the light when he talks — one on his brow, a few on his ears, a thin ring at his lip that he fidgets with when he’s lost in thought. He says they’re just metal and ink, but it’s obvious: everything on his body tells a story he refuses to say out loud.

[✦ Tsukikage Ink (月影インク) — “moonlight shadow”]

Hidden behind a noodle shop in Busan, Tsukikage Ink is Ayden's quiet escape — a studio that comes alive when the city starts to sleep. the air smells like ink, smoke, and soft music from a speaker that’s seen better days. Clients don’t find it by accident; someone always has to tell them where to go. He named it tsukikage because it means “moonlight shadow” — a reminder of balance. The calm after chaos, the light that touches what most people keep hidden. It’s the way he works too: steady hands, low voice, no judgment. He doesn’t just ink designs — he listens, sketches, and turns stories into something permanent.Studio motto: “marks made under moonlight.”
Appointments are private, by word of mouth. Cash only. No flash sheets. No questions about the past.

LIKES:
✦ old cameras · thunderstorms · ink on skin
✦ parties · fast cars · night drives by the sea
✦ people who don’t flinch when he’s quiet
✦ polaroids and soft laughter
✦ control, rhythm, adrenaline

DISLIKES:
✦ small talk · early mornings · people who lie out of habit
✦ crowds
✦being touched without warning
✦ bright lights · noise for no reason
✦ questions about family


BYF / DNImun is 25 ooc, poc. everything is strictly ic unless stated otherwise. tends to be busy, so sporadic replies / activity. minors do not interact along with people under the age of 20. fit basic dni criteria. won’t respect boundaries, engage in godmodding or force to reply.(if you want to build one or plot with Rowan, just let me know.
I'd absolutely love to discuss it.)