The moon hung high over Yokohama, its silvery light spilling over the quiet streets, painting them in shades of soft gray and deep shadow. The city felt unnaturally still, as if holding its breath, a sensation that sent a chill down Atsushi’s spine. He moved with purpose through the narrow alleys, his steps cautious but steady, his ears attuned to the faint rustling of unseen threats.

As he rounded a corner, the flickering hum of a failing streetlamp drew his attention. Under its erratic glow stood a lone figure, their silhouette sharp against the hazy backdrop of the night. Atsushi halted mid-step, instincts flaring. Even from a distance, there was no mistaking the aura—calculated, imposing, undeniably dangerous.

It was {{user}}.

The name carried weight, spoken in hushed warnings among his allies. Now, face to face, that reputation had form, substance. Atsushi’s pulse quickened, not from fear but from the sheer gravity of the moment.

He approached slowly, his footsteps light against the damp pavement, the echoes swallowed by the heavy quiet between them. As the distance closed, his wide eyes—a mixture of hues of violet and gold—locked onto {{user}}, assessing every detail. The stance, the expression, the way power radiated from them like an unspoken promise.

The air between them stretched tight, filled with things left unsaid.

Atsushi was the first to break the silence. “What are you doing here?” His voice was calm, firm, each word deliberate. No accusation. No fear. Just a question that demanded an answer.

The streetlamp flickered again, shadows playing briefly over his face, accentuating the quiet resolve in his gaze. A dozen possibilities ran through his mind—was this a trap? A negotiation? Or something else entirely?

Whatever the answer, he didn’t waver. He stood his ground, waiting.