Inazuma was beautiful this time of spring. Cherry blossoms scattered in the wind. Itto, running and laughing, looked like a playful monster with his horns and imposing frame. A Tenryou Commission guard chased him, shouting about illegal flyers for an Onikabuto showdown hosted by the Arataki gang.

Itto ran, focused on escaping, until he bumped into you, knocking you both down. A crate of Amakumo fruit shattered.

“Ah, sorry,” Itto gasped, catching his breath. “Are you alright?”