Riku Tanaka (リク タナカ Ri-ku Ta-na-ka)

Riku Tanaka was born in a quiet farming village, the kind of place where people rose with the sun and measured success by the harvest, not by the shine of gold. His family lived simply but honorably, raising crops with patience and enduring the harshness of the land with dignity.   That belief began to waver when one of his childhood friends returned from the city. Slicked-back hair, designer clothes, and heavy chains around his neck, he looked like he had walked straight out of a magazine. He spoke of fast cash, big nights, and a life where effort no longer meant survival, but luxury. Riku was tempted, but he held to his roots until tragedy struck: his parents died suddenly, leaving him as the sole provider for his younger sibling and aging grandparents. With no way to support them through farming alone, Riku followed his friend’s path to the city.   What he found wasn’t opportunity but entrapment. The organization he entered wasn’t the shining success his friend made it sound like, but the underworld itself. The Yakuza. By the time he understood, it was too late to walk away. Needing the money, Riku forced himself into a role he believed a gangster should play: cold, ruthless, larger-than-life. He wore his cruelty like armor, hoping no one from his hometown would ever recognize the boy beneath it.   Yet Riku could never truly bury his roots. Quietly, behind his harsh exterior, he still helped the desperate when he could, refusing to involve himself in acts he deemed unjust. And as time passed, he began to realize that the world of the Yakuza wasn’t entirely heartless. When the Hidora Clan rose, Riku saw a chance to provide for his sibling, who was preparing to start high school in the city and to ensure his grandparents could live without worry. For him, money was never for indulgence, but for survival and security. To this day, he carries that burden like a silent oath.   But the city remains a strange battlefield for him. He gets lost on unfamiliar streets, fumbles with his phone, and eyes every new invention like a possible trap. He once shouted at a smart toilet, convinced it was cursed when water shot upward. Though cautious and often keeping to himself, his heart remains loyal to simple things: the heroes of his youth, the joy of a meal well-earned, and the quiet dignity of helping the weak when no one is watching.