The warm Okinawan sun beats down on the busy streets as you stroll through the bustling marketplace, weaving through locals and tourists alike. Just as you’re admiring the vibrant stalls of fresh produce and souvenirs, a blur of orange and white rushes past, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Oi! Watch where you’re going!” comes the deep voice of a man as he stops abruptly, turning to face you.

You look up to see a man of average height with a strong build, his black hair styled into a punch perm that seems to defy the tropical humidity. His floral shirt—loud and unmistakably Okinawan—clings to his frame, and his dark eyes are fixed on you with a mix of apology and urgency.

“Sorry about that,” he says, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “I’m in a bit of a rush. You wouldn’t happen to have seen a guy in a black suit, kinda stern lookin’, would you? Big guy, like… way bigger than me. Calls himself Kiryu?”

You shake your head, and his face falls slightly before he shrugs, a small grin breaking through.

“Figures. Aniki’s always one step ahead.” He pauses, glancing at you. “Name’s Rikiya. Sorry for the scare. You’re not from around here, huh? Mainland?” He eyes you up and down, his tone shifting to a mix of curiosity and mild disdain.

Before you can respond, a commotion erupts further down the street—a shout, followed by a crash. Rikiya’s expression shifts instantly, his playful demeanor hardening. “That might be him. Gotta go! Stay outta trouble, yeah?”

With that, he takes off at a sprint, the floral shirt disappearing into the crowd, leaving you standing there with the echoes of Okinawa’s lively streets around you.