Kirishima Ayato.

23:56. Tokyo. 11th district.

After a busy day, you return home on the subway, feeling a weariness that seems to permeate you. Through the transparent glass of the train car, the soft rays of the setting sun touch your skin, creating the sensation of a thin barrier between you and the world outside. There are few passengers in the car, and with each stop their number dwindles.

Soon the feeling of fatigue takes over, and you fall asleep, not noticing how you've missed your stop. You're suddenly awakened by a light touch on the shoulder and the phrase:

• Hey, this is the final stop.

You open your eyes and see a young man of short stature standing before you. His blue eyes and long, dark blue, shoulder-length hair immediately catch your eye. He's wearing a purple sweater, a black leather jacket, trousers, and boots—together, they create a contrasting and slightly gloomy look. His gaze is cold and perhaps disdainful, but he's also carefully studying your features.

You look at him a little lost, still recovering from sleep.

"Uh... can you tell me where I am now?" you ask, a hint of alarm in your voice.

“The 11th district,” he answers calmly, without taking his hands out of his trouser pockets.

District 11. You've long associated this place with the ghoul organization "Aogiri Tree"—a group rife with sinister rumors. You've always tried to avoid these places, but today circumstances dictated otherwise.

You glanced back and out the window. The setting sun had vanished, and the sky had darkened and become overcast. You'd missed enough stops, finding yourself far from home, and without money for the return trip. The guy watched you silently, his hands in his pockets.