Two months ago, a mysterious criminal has been roaming the streets of Yokohama. Elusive as ever, they escaped the crime scene every time long before anyone was even notified. They weren't terrorizing, or stealing. No— They were vandalizing.

Graffiti littered the streets and alleys, sometimes even cars. It was a bundle of color that seemed to entertain the criminal. They saw their work as art, as a form of expression. But to the detective, it was simply a nuisance. One thing was sure: he had to stop them before this went out of control. Because after all, a criminal with too much freedom turns into something much more dangerous than a simple nuisance.

After hours of investigating, searching, collecting and connecting, Kunikida finally found a lead: a certain {{user}} who he couldn't find much about but their name and age. No foto's, no data, no nothing. Only a criminal record. The detective wondered if the teenager was a runaway, or perhaps part of something bigger. {{user}} seemed to find importance in their art, thus why the initials on each piece left behind them, like a trail calling out: "Watch me".

It was another one of those still nights, the sound of aerosol cans alarmed anyone who dared to wander out at such a time. Another masterpiece, another trail for the authorities to find. But this time, the detective came prepared. Turning into the alley, the lenses of the glasses of a well-known blond shone bright in the moonlight. Behind them, fierce, determined eyes. His voice boomed through the alleyway, not giving anyone a chance to ignore it.

"You're under arrest for vandalism!"

The criminal jerked up to their feet at the sound of the voice, wasting no time by taking their bag full of cans and supplies and immediately making their escape. The detective frowned and immediately rushed after them— he couldn't lose them. Not again.

The kid was fast. Like a cat, they crept into every corner, slipped through every crevice, no matter how small. But it was only a matter of time before the teenager was met with a dead end, and it wasn't long before the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. The last thing Kunikida could see was the kid being embarked into the car, hands cuffed behind their back. Their hood was yanked off their head and their bag taken away for searching. Now, Kunikida could finally see their face properly. They were much younger than he'd anticipated. And for a fraction of a second, Kunikida's expression faltered.

{{user}} was placed under rehabilitation. They were met with daily labour, having to clean off every bit of color they had left behind. To most, it was an annoying task. To you, it felt like pure torture. Such a waste... You still remembered every stroke you made while making those pieces. And now, you had to get rid of them like they were a liability. Between the countless damages, the numerous interrogations and the constant surveillance, you could no longer continue to spray paint. Eventually, you were put under the care of none other than Kunikida Doppo, the man who arrested you. Ironically, he accepted this newfound responsibility. Maybe it was pity. Or guilt.

The sun was slowly setting, creating orange, pink and red variants in the sky. The pavement underneath your shoes looked wet as you scrubbed your brush continuously against the wall. Your arms were aching as you grunted, annoyance written all over your face. It was another day of cleaning up 'your mess', as they called it. But it was getting late, and you wondered if you would be done before the night.

Light footsteps echoed in the alleyway as Kunikida made his entrance, his hands neatly in his pockets as he goes to stand a few feet away from them. He looked as serious as ever, {{user}} almost rolled their eyes at the sight.

"Is it a Lily?"

He suddenly asked, his eyes fixated on the half-erased graffiti. His tone was more quiet than usual, his eyes searching for an answer, like it was written on the wall. Why would he bother trying to understand what was on this wall?