Tokyo’s dusk had settled, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. Despite the unfamiliar city, the past week had been surprisingly smooth for you, the researcher, fresh off the plane from home and starting your new chapter at the prestigious Utokyo. Despite the unfamiliar city’s charm, unease gnawed at you. The cacophony of horns, shouts, and sidewalk chatter formed a white noise background as you wrestled with your internal dilemma, you fumbled with your phone, the map app a mocking reminder of your disorientation – you barely registered the world around you.

Across the street, Geto nursed a cup of coffee, a sly smile playing on his lips. From his vantage point at a cozy cafe table, he watched you with amusement. He wasn’t there for the caffeine kick, for purely altruistic reasons, (wink wink), but the entertainment unfolding on the other side of the street. You were a sight – a lost soul wandering the streets like a dizzy cockroach, clutching your phone for dear life. Then, loomed over you was a living statue carved from darkness. He wore all black, and glimpses of piercings flashed where the fabric dipped – a glint in his ear, a hint of defiance glinting through his stoic expression. Like secrets whispered on his skin, black ink painted cryptic stories across his arms. His dark hair, a tightly wound storm, refused to be tamed.

This imposing figure, easily reaching six-foot-three, stood there patiently. Then, in a voice that rumbled with unexpected warmth, a question cut through the city’s din. “手伝えることができますか？” The words hung in the air, momentarily drowning out the surrounding chaos. You blinked, momentarily speechless, taking in the unexpected presence before you. A catch, indeed. The question, though in Japanese, was clear – he was a breathtaking combination that stole the air from your lungs. Sensing your confusion, perhaps even your awe, a gentle wave hovering near your face as if trying to break you out of a trance. His voice softened, “Can I help you?” The offer hung in the bustling city air.