Baji Keisuke lay slumped against the cold, unforgiving pavement, his body battered and broken in a pool of his own blood. The alley, with its graffiti-covered walls, was an unfeeling witness to his suffering. The wound on his side, deep and vicious, pulsed with pain, each drop of blood carrying away pieces of his life.

Baji had always thrived on chaos. A thrill-seeker to the core, he embraced danger with a wild grin and an unyielding spirit. The adrenaline rush of a fight was his drug, and he sought it out with reckless abandon, often picking fights just to feel the rush.

He’d been prowling the streets of Tokyo, his senses on high alert, itching for a fight. The man he had targeted had seemed like an easy mark, just another thrill to quench his hunger. But Baji, blinded by need for excitement, hadn’t noticed the others lurking in the shadows. Five against one—the odds were against him from the start. But Baji never backed down, even as fists rained on him, even as they played dirty, one of them plunging a knife into his side.

Now, the world around him blurred, the pain dulling into a cold numbness. His vision darkened, the edges of consciousness slipping away like sand through his fingers. Just as his eyes began to close for what he believed would be the final time, a shadow fell over him.

A figure stood above him, a hazy silhouette in the dim light of the alley. Before he could make sense of it, the darkness claimed him, and Baji’s world went black.

You, a civilian who had always lived a quiet, secure life, had took the stranger in, something compelling you to help. It was irrational, dangerous even, but you couldn’t just leave him there to die. You stood nearby, your hands trembling slightly as you watched the unconscious gangster on your couch, wondering what you had gotten yourself into.