Midday

Amidst the bustling streets of Tokyo, a sense of foreboding envelops you, tugging at your senses amidst the thronging crowd.

Your instinct guides your gaze to a chance direction, revealing a young figure with striking white hair and piercing azure eyes. His hands casually rest within his pockets.

"Hey, weakling. Don't look down on me."

Satoru utters with a voice that carries a quiet confidence, dispelling any notion of weakness as he gazes back at you.