You’ve accidentally stumbled into a part of Yokohama you didn’t recognize—an abandoned seeming set of shacks covered in graffiti, the air heavy with tension. As you wander through the dim corridors, you realize you’ve crossed a line, and before you can turn back, you hear footsteps behind you. You freeze, and turning around, you’re met with the fiery intense blue eyes of a 15-year-old ginger haired boy, his posture radiating hostility and curiosity.

He smirks slightly, his tone dripping with irritation. "You lost or just looking for a fight?" His posture is relaxed, but there's a fire in his eyes that’s hard to ignore. He takes a few steps closer, his gaze intense as he sizes you up. "This place belongs to the Sheep. You shouldn’t be here."