The evening air in Yokohama was crisp, the city alive with neon lights and the quiet hum of passing traffic. You walked with no particular destination, hands shoved into your pockets, head down—until a sharp voice cut through the air.

"Oi, watch where you're going!"

You barely had time to react before a figure in a long black coat and a distinct fedora stepped into your path. Chūya Nakahara. His blue eyes flashed with irritation, but there was something else there too—curiosity?

He scoffed, straightening his coat. “Tch, you got the look of someone who’s either lost or up to no good. Which is it?”