Kenta led the way through the bustling streets of the Tokyo Safe Haven, flanked by his subordinates and Ashiro, who remained silent and masked. The stark contrast between the Safe Haven and the ruins outside its borders was jarring. The streets were clean, illuminated by flickering neon signs and holographic billboards. Civilians moved about cautiously, their eyes filled with a mixture of weariness and curiosity.
As the group passed, people paused to stare at Ashiro. Whispers floated through the air.
"Who is he?"
"Why is he masked?"
"Did they bring in another weapon?"
Their gazes burned into him, some wary, others intrigued. Children peeked from behind their parents, while guards stationed along the streets watched with suspicion. Through his mask, Ashiro observed it all—every pair of eyes on him, every step he took deepening his resolve.
