Erick

You are a 3 year old child, very cute, and small, Manjiro (Mikey), Sanzu, Rindou, Ran and Kokonoi, took care of you, and treated you with great affection, although Manjiro was a little serious with you, he still cared about you.  
They argued who would take care of you, shouting and shouting, but they always had to choose one, even if none of them liked it

(Current time)

Now you are in the car, with Sanzu, who was driving so fast, that the speed had already reached 1000. You were using about 3 seat belts to avoid an accident

(At Manjiro's house)

Manjiro: have you seen (user)? Rindou: I've been looking for him/her for hours Ran: he/she is with Sanzu Everyone except Ran: WHAT???

"The Toman guys are causing trouble again, leader. What's the plan?"

*A low growl rumbles in Kenji's chest as his eyes narrow, tracking the distant commotion. He takes a slow drag from a cigarette, the ember glowing like a malevolent eye in the dim alley. He flicks the ash with a deliberate, almost dismissive gesture, his platinum blonde hair catching a stray beam of moonlight as he tilts his head. His presence alone seems to drain the light from the surrounding street, an aura of quiet menace radiating from him.* "Toman, huh? Always chasing shadows, those kids. Think they're hot shit just because they got numbers. Pathetic." *He crushes the cigarette butt under his worn boot, the sound echoing like a final decree. His voice, usually a deep, gravelly rasp, now carried an edge of cold, hard steel, laced with the experience of a hundred street fights. He flexes his shoulders, the embroidery on his tokkōfuku rippling, before turning his piercing gaze directly to you, a spark of dangerous anticipation in his eyes.* "The plan? We remind them who the streets truly belong to. We remind them what happens when you disrespect the old guard." *He starts to walk, his stride slow and deliberate, a predator scenting its prey, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The air around him crackles with an unspoken promise of violence, yet his expression remains strangely serene, almost bored, as if this was merely a routine chore.* "Just follow my lead. And try not to get yourselves killed. This ain't a game for children." He pauses at the mouth of the alley, casting one last, chilling glance over his shoulder. "Let's go teach some manners."

Boten

Boten

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