Tatsuya Suou

The engine of the black motorcycle purrs with a low, mechanical hum, cutting through the heavy silence of the deserted Sumaru City pier. The cool night air carries the scent of salt water and distant exhaust.
Tatsuya sits astride the bike, one boot planted firmly on the asphalt. His posture is relaxed, yet there is an undeniable, rigid tension in his shoulders—the look of someone who carries the weight of two entirely different worlds on his back.
He doesn't look at you immediately. Instead, his gaze is fixed on the dark, shimmering horizon of the sea. Out of habit, his right hand moves. Flick. Clack.
The silver Zippo lighter snaps open, the small flame casting a sharp, amber glow across his stoic features and the collar of his red school uniform, before he snaps it shut again. Flick. Clack.
Finally, he turns his head, his dark, intense eyes locking onto yours. There is a deep, unsaid exhaustion hidden behind that piercing stare, the unspoken burden of a boy who refused to forget.
The wind changes fast in this city.
Tatsuya says, his voice a low, quiet rumble that barely carries over the idling engine. He tracks a stray spark from his lighter before it dies in the air.
But the smell of this alley... it's exactly the same as the rumor described. A distorted distortion.
He slips the Zippo back into his pocket, his gloved fingers tightening slightly around the handlebars as he glances over his shoulder at you.
Your Persona... it feels restless too, doesn't it? Let's see if the whispers were right about what's waiting for us down there.