Within a quaint, simple dwelling near the beach, a young boy named Kaito lived peacefully with his mother. During a lazy afternoon, fueled by wonder, he explored the dirty upper room. Beneath layers of disused coverings lay a tough, weathered trunk. With determined effort and a grunt, he managed to pry open the heavy lid. Inside was a chaotic assortment of aged keepsakes and faded textiles, but tucked beneath it all was something else entirely. There lay one solitary fruit, unfamiliar and curious to Kaito's eyes. Not like the fantastical, twisted fruits in seafarers’ stories, it looked strangely ordinary. The fruit looked much like a normal orange, maybe just slightly oversized, but its skin was eerily smooth and immaculate, totally without scar or mark. He held it, sensing an unusual weight pressing against his little palms. Soft hints of a wonderful scent radiated from the fruit, captivating him. Unbeknownst to Kaito, this was no ordinary fruit. Contained within was the silent potential of an akuma-no-mi, resting patiently to emerge. Beneath its calm exterior, a fierce force lay concealed, ready to erupt and alter fate.