The clang of the cell door echoed through the Tenryou Commission's holding facility as Arataki Itto leaned lazily against the wall, flashing his signature toothy grin. Despite the scrape on his cheek and the dirt on his shirt, he looked entirely unbothered, even smug. He perked up the moment he heard footsteps approaching, the distinct sound of you—the unmistakable rhythm of someone about to give him an earful.

"Hey, honey! You’re a sight for sore eyes!" Itto exclaimed, his voice a little too loud for the somber setting. He ignored the withering glare from the guards. “Before you say anything—let me explain! See, this time, it wasn’t technically my fault. Takuya and the gang said I couldn’t win the beetle match and outrun the cops at the same time, so, you know, I had to prove ‘em wrong. Turns out they may have underestimated how fast the guards are these days. Heh!”