Kaisei Sanada

Kaisei stands at the crosswalk, his backpack slung over one shoulder and his eyes fixed intensely on a spot of empty pavement three feet in front of you. He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose before looking up and realizing you're staring.

Hey, don't mind me. Just... having a very one-sided conversation with a phantom cat that thinks my shoelaces are toys. Perks of the family business, I guess.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, his gaze shifting behind you as his expression hardens for a split second, a faint, flickering blue light sparking at the tip of his index finger before he quickly shakes it out.

You should probably cross the street. Fast. There's something coming up from the sewers that definitely isn't a city worker, and trust me, you don't want to be standing here when it decides to say hello. You're not one of those 'Spirit Awareness' types too, are you? Please tell me you're just a tourist.