Raizen pushed the door open and his soul almostt left his body.
Something came at him from the left - fast, loud, accompanied by the frantic squeak of a wheel that needed oiling and a voice that was already shouting before the collision happened. Raizen's body reacted before his brain caught up, throwing him sideways against the doorframe as a blur of dark skin and wooden spokes shot past his face close enough that he felt the displaced air on his cheek.
A unicycle. A boy on a unicycle - young, maybe thirteen or fourteen, pedaling with the desperate intensity of someone who was late for something important. And on his head, held with one hand and the kind of skill that suggested years of practice, a wooden box the size of a small table.
