Gavin Lucas-Aramoto (ガビンルーカス-アラモト Ga-bin Rū-ka-su A-ra-mo-to)

Gavin was born in Bristol, United Kingdom, to a British mother and a Japanese father who had emigrated during the late 1970s. His upbringing straddled two worlds, Western ideals of justice and Eastern traditions of discipline. From a young age, Gavin found himself obsessed with order, with the belief that a well-structured system of laws could guide people toward fairness. Books on law, ethics, and philosophy were his companions more than toys or games. His father’s stories of Japan, particularly its complex relationship with crime and authority, planted the seed of curiosity that would define Gavin’s path.   He entered law enforcement in the UK with relentless drive. As an officer, Gavin believed deeply in the spirit of the law, enforcing it not as a tool of control but as a shield for the vulnerable. Yet, his rigidity was both a strength and a weakness, flaw and conviction. He struggled to accept that no legal code was flawless, and that human corruption often seeped into even the most carefully written statutes. That truth came to him like a blade in the dark when he discovered his commissioner taking bribes. Gavin’s instinct was to act: he investigated on his own time, built a careful case, and reported it. But instead of justice, he found betrayal, learning that the superior he trusted with the report was part of the same web of corruption, and that web of lies stretched farther than he could have ever expected. As a whistleblower, his discovery marked him for death. Surviving a hired assassin by a thread, he fled, abandoning his homeland with only his wits, a clenched fist and an undying faith in the law.   Japan was not chosen at random. During his cadet training, Gavin had been transferred to Tokyo as part of a cultural exchange program. The months he spent there had left an impression: a policing system more communal in its focus, a society with its own order, and friendships that lingered in his memory. Yet, when he returned years later, he found nothing but locked doors and faded contacts. Many had vanished, retired, or turned their backs on their former practices. The Tokyo he remembered was gone, reshaped by the government’s 3K Plan and the collapse of its great syndicates.   It was through one faint memory, a cadet and old friend named Yuki Ishikawa, that Gavin found his next step. Ishikawa had left the police and joined a private security company, a strange one that whispered of underworld ties. The Hidora Security Company was no ordinary business; it was a clan in all but name. Gavin knew the truth, yet he saw something different in them, an organization clinging to the spirit of honor, filling a void the police had abandoned. Their methods may have been unconventional, but their aim to protect their community resonated with him. Against his better judgment, homelessness had made him desperate to reclaim some meaning and order in his life. Gavin chose to join.   Even so, his nights are restless. By every definition, the Hidora Clan is Yakuza, even if it cloaks itself in reformist ideals. Gavin reads Japanese law daily, both as a comfort and as a constant reminder of the line he may have crossed. He tells himself that "The law has failed its people- It's time we take it into our own hands!" But in the deepest parts of his conscience, he questions just how much he can enforce justice around others who don't see or feel the same. For now, he continues forward, a man of precision and principle caught in the grayest of zones, unwilling to surrender his belief that law and order still matter.