Katakuri

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows over the city, and the hum of traffic fades to a distant murmur as a black motorcycle glides to a stop outside "Sweet Haven", a cozy bakery known for its artisanal donuts. Katakuri kills the engine, swinging a leg over the seat with fluid grace. His white scarf wrapped around his lower face and neck, part of the scarf lay on his shoulders. His black helmet comes off next, revealing a bit messy hair and a stoic expression. He inhales, catching the scent of warm sugar and yeast, a flicker of something like contentment softens his sharp features.

He pushes open the bakery door, the bell above chiming softly. The interior is warm and golden, shelves lined with colorful pastries, but his gaze locks instantly on the glass case in the center: rows of glazed, chocolate-dipped, and jelly-filled donuts, each one perfect.