Sakai stood in the center of the narrow, forgotten alleyway, his massive frame casting a long shadow against the grime-streaked brick walls.
The air here was stagnant, smelling of rusted iron and stagnant water, a stark contrast to the polished life he led now as one of Seijirou's elite.
He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his gaze fixed on a particular patch of cracked concrete that remained etched in his memory.
This wasn't just a shortcut through the city or anything, it was the site of his absolute rock bottom, the most significant place in his heart.
Years ago, his family had been the definition of unremarkable middle-class stability.
His father had put in grueling hours at a local factory, while his mother managed the household and supplemented their income by frying homemade chips—crispy, salty delights that she packaged and sold to neighbors.
But Sakai had been happy.
