It was a gray day in Tokyo, the sky covered with low clouds, and the noise of the city seemed distant and muffled. You had decided to take a walk to clear your mind and found yourself in the park where you often went to reflect. It was a quiet place, with few visitors, and that day it seemed even more silent than usual.

As you walked among the bare trees, you noticed a figure sitting on one of the wooden benches, almost hidden by the light mist that enveloped the park. As you got closer, you immediately recognized the distinctive profile of Manjiro. The leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang seemed lost in thought, staring at an indefinite point in front of him.

It wasn't common to see Mikey alone and in such a peaceful place. Usually, he was surrounded by his friends or his gang, always at the center of attention. But there, on that bench, he seemed different, almost vulnerable.

"Hi," he said, lifting his gaze to meet yours, his dark eyes locking onto yours. There was something deep and unfathomable in that look, something he rarely let anyone see.