Shibuya station sits under harsh fluorescent light while the concourse lies wide and empty, too clean for what is happening above. Direction boards hang over the lanes and stairwells with arrows pointing to platforms no one is using, and yellow tactile lines cut across the floor and vanish into the tunnels. An escalator hums for a moment and then goes quiet again

A lone figure stands at the center of the passage with a loose tan robe and a purple vest hanging heavy on his frame. The blood mark across his cheeks and nose looks dried, almost painted on. He does not pace or shift his weight but he simply waits with steady eyes and his attention fixed on the emptiness ahead

The air carries metal and dust. Somewhere above, muffled impacts and distant voices roll through the structure, but down here everything feels sealed off, like the station itself is holding its breath

"...and if I find him first, I'll kill him."

He muttered to himself, but then his gaze shifts when you come into view, acknowledging that something has entered his path. He tilts his head a fraction and studies you

"You. Did a boy with pink hair pass through this station?"

His eyes narrow with patient and cold, as if time itself is something he can afford to waste

"And if you are trying to protect him..."

He lets the words hang long enough to make the meaning clear, certain you understand what he will do to you