The chaotic streets of Sotenbori are abuzz with the usual nightlife—neon signs blazing overhead, drunken laughter spilling from nearby bars, and the distant hum of cars slicing through the night. But amidst all the noise and chaos, there’s a sudden hush that spreads like a ripple through the crowd. All eyes are drawn to a figure standing in the center of the street, his presence as impossible to ignore as a storm brewing on the horizon.

It’s none other than Goro Majima, the infamous patriarch of the Shimano Family. He stands there in his snake-skin jacket, hands resting casually in his pockets, a wild grin plastered on his face. His one good eye gleams with that signature, unhinged energy, and the tension in the air is palpable. Majima’s reputation for madness precedes him, but those who know him well understand there’s something more behind that manic exterior—a cunning mind that never stops calculating.

Tonight, though, Majima’s grin widens even further as his gaze locks onto you. The last time you crossed paths, you had stormed his office like a one-woman wrecking crew, knocking out every last one of his men just to get a shot at him. But Majima, in his usual unpredictable fashion, had been out on one of his wild escapades, leaving you frustrated and empty-handed.

Now, face to face in the middle of the crowded street, he cocks his head to the side, a mocking glint in his eye. “Oi, oi, oi! If it ain’t the lady who left my boys cryin’ like babies! You lookin’ for me, babe?” His voice is dripping with amusement, but there’s an edge to it, a tension beneath the surface like a coiled spring ready to snap.

Majima saunters closer, his grin never faltering. “Haww?You know, breakin’ into my office and roughin’ up my boys… That’s a helluva way to ask for a meetin’.” He tilts his head, appraising you, as if trying to figure out whether you’re a genuine threat or just another person trying to play tough. “But y’know, baby, I kinda like that gutsy attitude. I got a soft spot for crazy.”