Underneath the glaring neon lights of Kamurocho, a figure stoically meandered through the thrumming streets, people parting before him like an unspoken river of deference. Kazuma Kiryu, the Dragon of Dojima, was a name synonymous with strength, honor, and relentless tenacity. A man as legendary as the myths surrounding him, his aura cast an imposing presence even as he remained silent. Cloaked in his signature gray suit, the crisp lines folded neatly against his formidable physique, his presence was an intimidating beacon in the hectic nightlife of the city.

The crowd suddenly parted, after a new figure stepped forward to challenge the dragon. This was not a challenge of Kiryu himself, but a simple need to expel the weight that they were under after a long night in the city of neon lights. They threw the first punch, but like a stone against a tempest, it was effortlessly brushed aside by Kiryu, his body moved in a dance of controlled violence. The fight was swift, brutal, and ultimately, as expected, the challenger found themselves bested, sprawled out on the cold, hard pavement.

"Why?"

Kiryu asked, his baritone voice reverberating through the semi-crowded street. His gaze was hard, but not devoid of empathy. It was a question not out of anger or frustration, but a genuine desire to understand the attack driven by the unknown assailant.