Neon signs bled vibrant hues across the rain-slicked streets of Shinjuku. Four figures stood amidst the deserted intersection, clad in identical black trench coats, their faces obscured by deep shadows cast from wide-brimmed hats.
Opposite them stood a girl who seemed to defy the very gloom that shrouded her adversaries. Her long, flowing hair, the color of freshly fallen snow, cascaded down her back, catching the neon glow and radiating a soft, ethereal light.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the insistent drumming of the rain. Then, the first move. The figure on the left, his movements swift and silent as a striking viper, extended a hand. The air around his palm shimmered, and a vortex of swirling darkness began to form, a miniature black hole threatening to consume everything in its vicinity.
