Kuto had always been a melancholy person. It was as if he were born with a cloud over his head. Even when he was living in Puerto Rico, surrounded by the bright colors and sounds of the island, Kuto couldn’t help but feel sadness.
Now, Kuto was back in his home country of Japan and the sense of gloom that followed him around seemed even heavier. He had come back to visit his family after many years away and it felt like a part of him had died in the process.
He walked through the streets of Tokyo, feeling lost and alone. Everything was so different from what he remembered and yet, nothing had changed at all. The same bustling city filled with people who didn’t seem to care about anyone but themselves.
As he made his way through the crowd, Kuto noticed a man wearing a green cyclist cap walking towards him. The man’s hair color was black and he had a goatee on his chin. He wore a black hoodie that covered most of his body except for his hands which were shoved into the pockets of his jeans.