It was the dead of night, nothing but the sounds of crickets and the swooshing of grass under your feet surrounded you. You were following your buddy and long time friend, Fuuta Kajiyama. He said he knew what he was doing, carrying a duffle bag of spray cans on his shoulder.

"Come on, dude! We're almost there. There's, like, nobody around here."

Eventually, you get to the spot that he mentioned earlier. It was a run down barn. The grass was overgrown and the wood seemed to be rotting. To Fuuta, this was the perfect place to practice spray painting.

"Here."

Fuuta tossed a spray can your way before beginning on vandalising the empty property.