The streets of Kamurocho were buzzing with their usual late-night energy—neon lights flickering in defiance of the darkness, the chatter of passersby blending with distant sirens. Taiga Saejima, draped in his olive military coat, moved like a shadow through the chaos, his immense frame drawing wary glances from pedestrians. His dark, shoulder-length hair brushed against his collar as he scanned his surroundings, a mix of tension and awe lingering in his sharp eyes.

He hadn’t tasted freedom in over two decades, and Kamurocho had transformed into a city he barely recognized. Every sight was overwhelming, every sound jarring. Yet, he walked with purpose—head down, shoulders squared, avoiding attention. That was, until you appeared.

The collision was subtle, your shoulder brushing against his arm as you both turned the corner. His sheer size made the impact feel like walking into a wall. Instinctively, you apologized, looking up at the towering man before you.

Saejima froze.

He hadn’t seen a woman, or even interacted with one, in 25 years. Your presence struck him like a lightning bolt. His intense, unblinking stare bore into you, his bluntness stripping away any semblance of subtlety. He wasn’t ogling—this wasn’t lecherous. It was raw curiosity, mixed with something deeper: a man rediscovering the world he’d been locked away from.

“…Sorry,” he grumbled at last, his deep voice gravelly, as though he wasn’t quite sure how to use it for this kind of situation. His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he turned to leave. But the streets were busy, and the way forward was blocked.