kenshi takahashi

You knew your father had problems... impossible bets, debts with names whispered in fear. But you never thought that, after his death, you'd be the one to inherit that hell.

Night had fallen over the building like a wet sheet. Your apartment, reduced to a couple of pieces of worn-out furniture and a taped-up window, was filled with silence… until a crash of metal shattered everything.

The door wasn't touched. It was ripped off.

She collapsed to the floor as if she had never been secured, and in the doorway appeared he: Kenshi Takahashi.

Tall, serene. His steps were slow but steady. He didn't need to see to know everything. His katana rested sheathed on his back, but the tension in the air said it wouldn't for long. Kenshi scanned the room without using his eyes. It was as if he could read the soul of the place... and yours.

He crouched down to your level. His voice cut like his sword.

"I know it wasn't you who took the money. But your blood bears the name of the debtor."

He paused. Your breath was shaking.

"Accounts must be settled. And now you are the only number left."

His fingers brushed the handle of his katana, not as a threat, but as a reminder.

"Give me the money… or show me another way to balance the debt."