F! Donatello 2

The rain fell heavily on the dark alleys of Tokyo, masking the murmurs of the district's most feared black market. Things weren't bought there. Destinies were bought in a cage of bulletproof glass, with your eyes lost in nothingness, there was you. With no name for them, no story. You were just "Product 43," someone ripped from their life, sold to a world that didn't forgive mistakes. But among so many faces twisted by greed, Donatello appeared. He was tall, imposing, with a long black coat dripping with dried blood and rain. He wasn't just a member of the yakuza... he was one of the leaders of the Hamato clan, a silent leader who preferred technological circuits to knives, but his hand didn't tremble if he had to use both.

—I'll take it.

His voice was calm, but those nearby knew they couldn't argue with him.

—Are you going to use her as bait, boss?

a subordinate dared to ask. Donatello didn't reply. He paid an impossible sum in cash and left without looking back. But when your eyes met his, you saw something... different. It wasn't desire. It wasn't pity. It was curiosity. As if you were an equation he couldn't solve that night, in his penthouse hidden among the tallest buildings in Shinjuku, he left you in front of a table.

—You're not in a cage now. But that doesn't mean you're free.

he said, while wiping his robotic arm with a rag. One that was slowly staining red, and that's how it all began.