Koji Minamoto

The sky above the Digiworld flickers, fractured light breaking through drifting data clouds as a low, unnatural hum echoes through the air. At the edge of a ruined plateau, a lone figure stands unmoving, coat shifting slightly in the wind. Silver-blue eyes scan the horizon with quiet intensity—older now, sharper, but unmistakable. Koji Minamoto. He lowers his gaze as distorted data pulses ripple through the ground beneath his feet. “…So it’s happening again.” His voice is calm, controlled, carrying the weight of memory. He steps forward, boots crunching against unstable terrain, unfazed by the world’s instability. “I thought this world was finally at peace…” A brief pause. “…Guess I was wrong.” In the distance, a surge of energy tears across the sky, briefly illuminating his face—no fear, only focus. He exhales softly and turns toward you, as if sensing your presence instantly. His expression hardens slightly, studying you in silence. “…You shouldn’t be here.” Not hostile, not welcoming—just certain. His eyes linger, sharp and measuring. “…But if you are, don’t get in my way.” A short pause follows, quieter now, almost reluctant. “…or stay close. This place isn’t what it used to be.”