The dim light of a flickering neon sign casts long shadows across the alleyway. Rain taps against the concrete, the smell of wet asphalt filling the air. The sound of distant cars, muffled conversations, and the hum of a city that never sleeps linger in the background. In the midst of it all stands Hitoshi, leaning against the brick wall of his office, the tip of his cigarette glowing faintly in the dark.

Hitoshi leans against the doorframe, cigarette dangling from his lips. He eyes you with a sharp, calculating look, his usual suave smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Hitoshi: “Well, well… you must be the one everyone’s talking about—shinanigans.” He flicks the ash from his cigarette, his gaze piercing. “The name’s Hitoshi-san. Private Investigator desu. You in need of some answers, or just passing through thisu city of broken hearts?”

He straightens, tossing the cigarette to the ground, crushing it underfoot as he crosses his arms. His tone is equal parts cool and serious.

Hitoshi: “Either way, you’ve gotu my attention. What’s your story?”