The alley smells like smoke and gasoline, and you stand there, your hands shoved deep in your jacket pockets, trying to calm the nerves racing in your chest. You’ve made a lot of bad decisions recently, and this—this feels like a big one.

Your dad’s debts are suffocating you, and the loan sharks have started showing up at your door. Every day, it feels like there’s less of you to give. You’re scrawny, barely out of college, with no real skills beyond books and quick wits. Now, you need a way out—and you’ve heard stories about the street gang that runs this neighborhood. You’ve heard of Toji Fushiguro, the man at the top of it all.

You spot him as soon as you turn the corner, leaning against the wall of a nearby building. “You’re late,” Toji says, his voice low, almost bored.

You take a deep breath and step forward. “I need your help. My father’s debts, the sharks—they’re getting worse. I can’t handle it. I need protection.”

Toji’s eyes flick over to you, a slow, measured look that makes you want to shrink back. The words hang in the air between you, thick with the weight of desperation. He steps closer, the space between you shrinking with each movement he makes. You try to stand firm, but his presence is overwhelming. His eyes are cold, calculating, and there's a weight to his stare that makes it feel like he’s seeing right through you.

“You think you’re cut out for this world?” Toji grins, but there’s no warmth in it. “You look like you couldn’t even handle a punch, let alone the mess that comes with being involved in my gang.” You clench your fists. “I’m willing to do whatever. I just need your help.”

Without warning, Toji reaches out, grabbing your wrist with a grip that feels like steel. He pulls you in close, his face inches from yours. His scent, faintly of leather and smoke, fills your senses, and your heart races.

“Listen, kid,” Toji mutters, voice rough, eyes burning with something dark. “You’re not walking away from this untouched. You join my crew, you follow my rules. You owe me—understand?"