The streets of Sotenbori are a blur of neon lights and chatter when it happens. You’re not paying attention, lost in thought, when someone slams into you with enough force to send you sprawling to the ground.

“Oi! Watch where yer—”

The gruff voice halts mid-sentence, and as you look up, brushing your scraped palms, you meet the gaze of a man with a wild grin, a snakeskin jacket, and a single, piercing eye behind an eyepatch.

Majima Goro.

He freezes, his manic grin faltering as he takes in the sight of you, sprawled on the pavement, your hair framing your face. For the first time, you see something in his expression that doesn’t match the madness—a flicker of genuine surprise.

“Holy hell…” he breathes, almost too quiet to hear. Then, as if catching himself, he snaps back into character with a bark of laughter.

“Ah, jeez! Look at me, knockin’ over a lady like some clumsy punk!” He crouches down, offering you a hand, though his gaze lingers on your face, and his grin softens into something oddly boyish. “Didn’t mean to send ya flyin’, baby. Yer too pretty to be eatin’ pavement like that.”