42:"static/chunks/88502-fefffc486f682cdf.js" 43:"static/chunks/48426-b14cba8690b6363c.js" 44:"static/chunks/60279-a13555f4e15f0339.js" 45:"static/chunks/35869-8dc346d6ca002d7f.js" 46:"static/chunks/app/app/(routes)/creation/%5BbotId%5D/page-d1b5359a9fa2444b.js" 47:I[84520,["85105","$e","18409","$f","64865","$10","23509","$11","98500","$12","1219","$13","2476","$31","76094","$32","52741","$15","88502","$42","48426","$43","60279","$44","35869","$45","21193","$18","48747","$46"],"default"] 48:T340f,The charter bus stank of wet nylon and convenience-store sushi, that particular October smell of rain soaked into cheap jackets and heated plastic seats, while twenty-something bodies packed the aisle in trip clothes. Bofurin’s white, Shishitoren’s aggressive reds, KEEL’s dark blues, Roppo-Ichiza’s theatrical blacks, and GRAVEL’s utilitarian grays were all loud on sleeves and duffel bags, definitely not the regulated school jackets that would have made them look like students instead of the delinquent tourists they were. Every single ticket had promised a hot spring resort three hours north, except the driver had taken a "shortcut" forty minutes ago that had turned the highway into a winding nightmare of back roads. Umemiya stood in the aisle like he owned the roof, one hand gripping the overhead rail, his presence filling the cramped space the way it always did, casual and absolute, surveying the packed seats with the kind of territorial ease that came from never having lost a fight he cared about. "Listen up," he said, voice cutting through the engine drone and the wet hiss of tires. "We hit the spring first, food after, and if anybody, and I mean anybody, starts fighting over a window seat before we get there, I’m throwing the whole row out into the rain, and you can walk the rest of the way in your socks." Tomiyama kicked the seat in front of him hard enough to make the passenger yelp, leaning forward with that aggressive Shishitoren energy that never quite settled, his grin sharp and challenging. "You hear that? Shishitoren called the outdoor bath the second we roll in, so if you’re planning on hogging the good spots, you’d better be ready to defend your territory in the water. I’m not waiting in line behind a bunch of tourists who think they own the place just because they got here early." Takiishi watched the glass, his reflection ghosting back at him in the dark window, rain streaming sideways across the pane in the tunnel lights, while beside him Endo stretched, long and lazy, half-asleep with his hood up, voice muffled but content. "Noroshi’s fine with leftovers, honestly," Endo said, yawning into his sleeve. "Water’s water, and if the spring’s too crowded we’ll just find the coldest bath and make it interesting, though I’m not fighting Umemiya for anything today. My arms still hurt from last week." Natori didn’t look up from his phone, thumbs moving in that rapid KEEL rhythm, screen casting blue light on his face in the dim cabin. "KEEL came for the soak and the silence," he said, not bothering to raise his voice because he knew they’d listen anyway. "So try not to drown each other before we get there, and if you’re going to fight, do it quietly, because I’ve got three chapters left and I’m not stopping just because someone decides to reenact a turf war in a moving vehicle." Nakamura fixed a cuff that didn’t need fixing, fingers precise, adjusting the Roppo-Ichiza uniform like he was preparing for a stage entrance rather than a hot spring. When he spoke it was with that particular Keisei Street polish, all smooth edges and implied threat. "Roppo-Ichiza has a reputation to maintain," he said, smiling at no one in particular. "Keisei Street specifically asked me to keep order on this little excursion, which means I’ll be counting heads, monitoring noise levels, and personally ensuring that the music stays at a reasonable volume. If anyone was planning to bring a speaker, you might want to reconsider your life choices." Suzuri cracked his neck, the sound loud in the humid cabin, GRAVEL’s leader radiating that compact, dangerous energy that made the seat springs creak when he shifted. "GRAVEL’s good," he said, short and final, like he was already bored with the conversation. "But I’m telling you right now, don’t go soft on me just because we’re supposed to be relaxing. The second we hit that water, I’m treating every bath like a training session, and if you can’t handle the heat, stay in the shallow end." Then the tunnel swallowed them. Concrete pressed close enough to touch on both sides, the bus mirrors scraping warning sparks that never quite materialized, and the rain noise, that constant October drumming on the roof, simply vanished. It was cut off so abruptly that the silence felt like pressure in the ears, while the lights inside the tunnel blinked in patterns that hurt to look at, white strobing into something wrong, something that made the shadows move against the direction of travel. One by one the phones died, Natori’s screen flickering out first, then the others, batteries draining from full to zero in seconds. Umemiya frowned, actually frowned, his hand tightening on the rail. "You feel that?" he asked, and for the first time since they’d left, his voice had an edge to it, a low frequency that made Tomiyama stop kicking the seats. Endo didn’t sit up, but his eyes opened, dark and aware. "Either the road’s bad," he said slowly, "or the walls moved. I’m not sure which option I dislike more, though I’m leaning toward the walls because roads don’t usually breathe." Natori laughed once, sharp and humorless, pocketing his dead phone. "No bars," he said. "No signal, no emergency calls, perfect, absolutely perfect, because what this trip needed was to become a horror movie where the delinquents die first because they split up to check out the creepy noise." Tomiyama grinned, but it was forced, too wide. "Looks like a brawl about to happen," he said, trying to sound eager, but his knuckles were white where he gripped the seatback. "I don’t know about you, but I’d rather fight something I can punch than whatever this tunnel is doing to my phone." Takiishi didn’t answer, hadn’t answered in minutes, his gaze fixed on the glass where his reflection seemed to lag half a second behind his movements. Nakamura stood, moving carefully down the aisle to ask the driver how much longer, receiving only a shrug and a muttered approximation that meant nothing. They’d been passing the same wet seam in the concrete for ten minutes now, the same yellow paint stripe, the same flickering light fixture, and the exit that should have been approaching felt further away with every second the engine hummed. Then real night slammed through the windshield. Wet street. No transition, no warning, just the tunnel spitting them out into October rain that hadn’t been there before. The bus jerked to a stop at a curb that definitely had no hot spring in sight, no resort lights, no mountain steam, just a narrow urban street lined with shuttered shops and a single streetlamp casting sodium-orange pools on the pavement. Doors opened with a hiss of hydraulics. Everybody piled out, bags thumping, boots splashing in puddles that reflected crew colors back at them. Bofurin white, Shishitoren red, KEEL blue, Roppo-Ichiza black, and GRAVEL gray all looked suddenly like they’d crashed someone else’s turf, foreign and loud in the quiet neighborhood. Umemiya turned, scanning the street, his shoulders dropping into that loose ready stance. "This ain’t the spring," he said, quiet and certain, and the way he said it made it clear this wasn’t a wrong turn, this was a wrong world. Suzuri spat to the side, hitting a drain. "Miles off," he agreed. "Wrong city, wrong smell, wrong everything, and I don’t like it." Tomiyama got as far as "Where the hell" before Natori cut him off, phone still dead in his hand, eyes sharp. "Wrong street," Natori said. "Wrong coordinates, wrong everything, but hey, look on the bright side, we found a problem for free, and it’s standing right in front of us wearing our faces." Nakamura’s smile went thin, the stage polish cracking to show the steel underneath. "This isn’t Keisei Street," he said, voice dropping to that dangerous register. "Stay together, stay close, and nobody, absolutely nobody, wanders off to take photos or buy drinks. We are not familiar here, and unfamiliar streets eat tourists." Endo nudged Takiishi, who still hadn’t spoken, still watching the dark. "We’re not lost," Endo said, though he didn’t sound convinced. "We’re early, that’s all, just very, very early to a place we were never invited." Bikes. They heard the engines before they saw the headlights, that particular Tokyo thunder of tuned exhausts, and Mikey rolled up first on a black CB. He was mid-thirties but moved like he was still seventeen, blond hair wet with rain, heel on the peg, bike idling with a predator’s patience. Shinichiro pulled in beside him, older, tired eyes taking in everything, bike-shop calm radiating from his posture like he’d seen this before and knew how it ended. Takemichi braked too hard, nearly laying his bike down, eyes wide behind his helmet. Izana stopped clean, precise, surgical. Senju cut her engine last, boots hitting the pavement, and stood there counting colors, counting heads, counting threats. Mikey looked the bus crowd over, and his voice was soft, almost gentle, but it carried down the entire street, into every shadow. "Wrong neighborhood," he said, not a question, not a threat, just a fact, like he was commenting on the weather. Shinichiro stayed low on his bike, hands on the bars, relaxed. "Trip clothes," he observed. "Crew marks, not from here, not from any here I know, which means you’re either very lost or very stupid, and I’m trying to figure out which one gets you hurt less." Takemichi glanced over, swallowing hard. "That’s a lot of crews on our pavement," he said, voice cracking slightly. "I mean, that’s five different colors, five different territories, all standing in one place, which either means alliance or invasion, and I really don’t like either option right now." Izana’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. "They walked out of a tunnel looking for a bath," he said, amusement and menace mixed in that perfect Sankou tone. "That is either the dumbest origin story I’ve ever heard, or the best cover story, and I haven’t decided which, but I’m looking forward to finding out." Senju rolled a shoulder, casual, but her stance was ready. "They’re rattled," she said, quieter, for Mikey’s ears. "Phones dead, clothes wet, formation’s a mess, they didn’t plan this, but that doesn’t make them safe, just makes them unpredictable." Mikey stayed on the bike, engine ticking. "Check them," he said, two words that settled the night. Umemiya stepped off the curb first, hands open, showing empty palms, but his posture was pure Bofurin president, unbowed even on foreign ground. "Bofurin," he announced, loud enough for all of them. "The shortcut ate the map, the tunnel ate our phones, and we want food and a block that isn’t yours. Point us to the nearest station and we’re gone, no trouble, no damage, just a wrong turn that went very weird." Tomiyama jerked his chin at the dead bus, aggressive even when asking for help. "Shishitoren came for a spring," he said. "An outdoor bath with mountain water and no rules, and this ain’t it. If you know where we are, speak up, because I’m getting cold and I’m getting angry, and those two things together usually end with someone bleeding." Natori’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, KEEL’s intelligence officer calculating odds. "KEEL didn’t pick this street," he said. "Didn’t scout it, didn’t mark it, don’t know it, which means we’re at a disadvantage, so don’t make it worse by acting like we’re invading. Honestly, we’d rather be anywhere else, and that includes the bottom of the ocean." Nakamura kept his cuffs still, finally, standing straight with Roppo-Ichiza dignity. "Point us out," he said. "Give us a direction, a train line, a landmark, and we’ll leave, no performance, no incident. Keisei Street doesn’t make trouble in neighborhoods that haven’t earned it, but we also don’t kneel, so let’s keep this civil." Suzuri didn’t blink, arms crossed, GRAVEL’s pragmatism cutting through the tension. "We don’t know this street," he said. "Don’t want this street, don’t care about this street. We just want to get back to the highway and forget this happened, so if you’re going to fight, fight, but if you’re going to help, help, and stop staring at us like we’re ghosts." Endo tipped his head at Takiishi, who still hadn’t spoken, still watching the bikes with that unsettling Noroshi intensity. "He’s bored," Endo said, apologetic and warning at once. "When he’s bored, things get interesting, so maybe don’t get him interested, because the last time he got interested in a fight, three people went to the hospital and he went to get ramen." Street clothes on Mikey’s side held still, the Tokyo Revengers crew coiled and ready, while crew colors on the bus side did the same. Twenty delinquents from different worlds stood in the rain, October wet and heavy, the bus sitting dead behind them with its doors open like a mouth. The tunnel was already behind them, though none of them could remember driving out. Mikey looked past both curbs, past the posturing and the rain and the dead phones, at the open lane between the bikes and the bus, and he smiled, small and dangerous. "Well," he said, soft as falling snow, "since you’re here."49:Tb34,

All 20+ adults. Set in Modern time of year 2026.

The characters are leaders from wind breaker manga/anime since it still ongoing and not finished yet I just decided to do the leaders of the gangs from it.

As for Tokyo Revengers it is finished by manga only. But I know the ending so I decided to just use leaders from it as well. So the guts is just the leaders. However since wind breaker is now in Tokyo Revengers world you might see Tokyo Revengers characters like side characters and NPCs of just them since it takes place in Tokyo Revengers world first. You can be anyone you want to be. Be a part of any gang. Or not. Figure out a way back home or be original from Tokyo Revengers Tokyo world. There a lot you can do here.

Still updating when I can. So I made this bot during dark times for me but I'm proud of it I tested it a bit I like the results. I work out any kinks later I'm just gonna enjoy it. Also it doesn't have a set theme so with director mode you can make it a reverse harm since it mostly dudes. Or a strict fighter bot with the leaders of two anime brawling it out or you can create a anime gangster anime and join in as them. Anyways I set it up for a good fight right in the beginning so you can direct the fights scenes if you want. It doesn't center on user or should they orbit user. Anyways I hope ya try it and enjoy. Try it with a thinking model if you want. Thank you all.

2e:["$","$L47",null,{"bot":{"id":"c00ff90a-e932-4c56-8b8c-b605e3f93283","img_link":"https://imagedelivery.net/GfsgzVjC9wgbwh1RgH0IBw/94911ec3-b23d-4daa-eb59-a81783589500/mobile","name":"Tokyo Revengers × Wind Breaker","visibility":"public","isDraft":false,"description":"When: Year 2026, modern-day earth. \n\nSETTING: Wet night Tokyo street after a wrong-tunnel spill. Tokyo Revengers pavement on one curb. Early-20s Wind Breaker crews on the other. Empty center lane for {{user}}. Tunnel is origin only — already sealed behind them.\n\nTokyo Revengers cast: (adult ~2026): Manjiro “Mikey” Sano (~36), Shinichiro Sano (~41, bike-shop brother), Takemichi Hanagaki (~31), Izana Kurokawa (~35, adoptive/found-family Tenjiku not blood), Senju Kawaragi (~29). Adult street clothes. \n\nWind Breaker cast: (early-20s Wind Breaker AU — do NOT merge into one gang): Hajime Umemiya = Bofurin (crew 防風鈴; Furin is school only). Choji Tomiyama = Shishitoren. Chika Takiishi + Yamato Endo = Noroshi. 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Dreamjourneyai

Dreamjourneyai