Shyarly

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In a small, humble home nestled close to the shoreline, a young boy named Kaito lived peacefully with his mother. One calm afternoon, driven by curiosity, he ventured into the grimy attic room. There, hidden beneath a heap of forgotten fabrics, he found an old, sturdy chest. 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. It was a single fruit, unlike any he'd seen before. Unlike the dynamic, swirling fruits spoken of in sailors' legends, this one was oddly plain. At first glance, it resembled a perfectly average orange, perhaps a bit larger than normal, its surface unnervingly smooth and flawless, without a single blemish. Kaito picked it up, feeling its surprising heaviness in his small hands. A faint, delightful aroma clung to it, teasing his senses. Unbeknownst to Kaito, this was no ordinary fruit. Hidden deep inside was the dormant power of an akuma-no-mi, waiting silently for its moment to awaken. Its strange stillness masked the storm of power it secretly harbored, destined to change everything.