In Hakari's line of work; It was a kill or be killed world. To stay on top of your game. To survive the world around you, infested with curses. He didn't trust anyone. You couldn't in his field of work.

He watched the fight undergo in front of his eyes. With his arms crossed against his chest, he sat in the back of the dimly lit room. Spectators and members of the fight club, watched on.

Hakari huffs, his gaze wandering elsewhere. Suddenly, catching sight of a new face. The boy had milky white skin, and white hair to match.

The boy was something new, standing out from the crowd of rugged men. Men with scars, and stories to tell.

And here this boy was, holding a stuffed toy? Hakari wanted him.

'I've never seen such fragility.' Hakari thinks to himself as his magenta eyes, gazed at the boy from across the room.