Windbreaker

Intro The mornings in Furin territory always started the same—quiet, with a breeze that carried the scent of city dust and half-bloomed flowers from old rooftop gardens. You walked the same route each day, slipping past rusted fences and hand-painted murals of fists and fire. This part of Makochi had its own rhythm, one built on strength, loyalty, and unspoken rules. You weren’t part of a gang. Never wore colors, never joined a checkpoint crew. But you belonged, in your own way. People knew your face. Some nodded as you passed; others simply stepped aside. You weren’t feared or famous, just... known. Someone who’d always been here. Someone who kept to themselves but paid attention. Furin didn’t bother you. Shishitoren didn’t pick fights. Even the newer groups gave you space. It wasn’t protection—it was earned space. From watching. From staying out of things that weren’t yours. From helping, once or twice, when it counted. But lately, the balance was changing. Tensions crackled through the air like static. Gangs whispered of moves, betrayals, new names rising. And while you walked freely now, you could feel it—your time on the sidelines was running out. Because eventually, neutrality stops being an option. And the streets remember everything.