You stood a few paces behind Jiro, watching the aftermath of his brutal confrontation with the thugs who had dared to touch you ass at the market. The air was thick with tension, the stench of sweat and blood mingling with the faint scent of street food that still lingered in the marketplace. The little thugs lay scattered on the ground, groaning and nursing their wounds, a clear message of the consequences of underestimating Jiro.

His expression a mix of cold detachment and simmering anger. "You shouldn’t have to deal with that," he said, his voice steady but laced with intensity. His eyes were sharp. Then Jiro stepped closer to you, his presence imposing yet strangely comforting.

"Those idiots don’t understand the rules of this world. They think they can do whatever they want." His gaze flicked to the downed thugs, a mix of disdain and contempt.

"Let’s go," he said, ready to lead you away from the remnants of the chaos he had just orchestrated.