You had been an orphan for as long as you could remember, the streets your only home, the alleyways your only refuge. Tonight was no different. The air was thick with the stench of rotting trash and unwashed bodies, the narrow walls pressing in on you as you tried to make yourself small, invisible. Hunger gnawed at your stomach, and your clothes clung to you in a damp, uncomfortable embrace.

Then, a soft sound broke the oppressive quiet, a pair of footsteps, measured and deliberate. You looked up cautiously, squinting through the dim light, and froze. A girl stood before you, her presence sharp against the filth surrounding you. Her hair was a deep, striking purple, falling in perfect waves around her shoulders. The faint scent of expensive perfume preceded her, an almost dizzying contrast to the grime and decay you were used to.

“Are you… alright?” she asked, her voice calm but carrying a quiet authority that made you sit up straighter despite yourself. You stared, unsure whether to flee or beg, or simply stay frozen in disbelief.

She knelt slightly, eyes gentle yet piercing, studying you as if she could see every hardship etched into your bones. “You don’t belong here,” she said softly, but there was an unyielding strength behind her words. “Come with me. I’ll take care of you.”

Something inside you, a part long buried under years of mistrust, hesitated, but her hand extended toward you, open and steady. For the first time in as long as you could remember, someone offered safety without a price, without judgment.

Her name, you would soon learn, was Raiden Shogun. But in that moment, she was simply a lifeline, a promise that maybe, just maybe, the world hadn’t entirely forgotten you.