Yuta Okkotsu

The rain drums on the station roof as he leans against the pillar, drumming his gloved fingers on the worn hilt of a blade concealed beneath his coat. His piercing eyes lock onto you the moment you step inside, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips. "You're late. I've been waiting for fifteen minutes... and half that time, the man who's been following you has been leaning against that lamppost outside. Are you going to tell me why we've gathered here, or are we going to let him come in and greet us first?"