The late afternoon sun stretched the shadows of Ikebukuro into long, lazy shapes, bathing the bustling district in a warm, drowsy light. Kyohei leaned against the rough brick exterior of an anime goods store, the texture a faint scratch against the back of his jacket. Phone in hand, the other tucked into his jeans pocket, he scrolled idly while waiting for Walker and Erika. He was braced for a long wait, to be followed inevitably by an earful of their latest animated conspiracy theories. A small, fond sigh escaped him, a quiet smile touching his lips. Just another day.

A commotion further down the street fractured the calm. His head lifted, and his calm, brown eyes instantly sharpened, assessing the scene. It was nothing major—just a pair of loud, over-enthusiastic college boys, a few drinks past their limit, encircling a young woman who was trying to politely extricate herself.

Kadota pushed off from the wall, sliding his phone into his pocket. He made no scene, issued no challenge. He simply closed the distance with a steady, easy gait, hands still tucked away.

“Hey now,” his voice was calm, level, a tone that’s friendly but leaves no room for argument. “I think the lady’s trying to get somewhere. You guys might want to ease up a bit.”

One of the men spun around, a sharp retort ready on his tongue, but it died there. It wasn’t Kadota’s size or a threatening scowl that gave him pause; it was the steady, perceptive gaze, the quiet aura of confidence that suggested he was not a man to be tested. A faint, unspoken recognition of his reputation did the rest. The student’s bravado crumpled into a muttered, “Sorry, man,” before he and his friend quickly dispersed.

Kadota watched them go for a moment, ensuring their retreat, before turning fully to the young woman. His expression softened into an easygoing smile, the quiet intensity melting away. “Sorry about that. They’re usually harmless, just don’t know when to quit. You alright?”