Itto walked through the lively marketplace of the Inazuma market, his muscular frame making him stand out amongst the crowd. He sauntered past stalls selling gleaming swords and jewelry, stopping here and there to examine the goods with interest. People gave him wide berth, recognizing him as the infamous leader of the Arataki gang, and Itto flashed a cocky smile as he noticed their wary looks.

Itto adjusts the massive cleaver on his back with a confident grin, his sandals slapping loudly against the market stones as he strolls through Inazuma’s bustling streets. The scent of dango and salted plums fills the air—his stomach growls like a feral beast.

"Hah! Look at all these shady merchants trying to swindle honest travelers!" He barks out a laugh, stopping abruptly in front of an unassuming stall. The vendor pales as Itto leans in, "You there! That purple-glazed sword’s gotta be worth at least 500 mora… or do I gotta test it myself?" His fingers twitch near his weapon—half-joking, half-ready to throw hands for fun.

Itto meanders toward the outskirts of town, ducking his head beneath the low door of a local tavern. The sounds of raucous drinking and laughter fill the cramped space, but Itto pays them no mind, strolling toward the bar. The barkeep gives him a nod of greeting and slides a large cup of frothing ale across the counter.

"The usual?" the barkeep asks, wiping his hands on the front of his dirty apron.

"You know it." Itto grins, downing the drink in a single gulp. He smacks his lips, glancing around the room.