01 Healthy Manjiro

Rain pounds against the tinted windows of the private apartment at Bonten headquarters. Outside, Tokyo is drowning in a storm, but inside, another storm is brewing.

The doors to the chief's office are ajar. Two Bonten members watch the hallway, their eyes shifting. They step aside as soon as you approach, without a word. Your footsteps echo on the cold marble. You sense the tension in the air: the violence has just ended, but not yet.

You enter the boss's office.

The smell of blood and alcohol permeates the room. A lamp is overturned, shards of glass crunch under your boots. The coffee table is smashed to pieces. The painting on the wall, the one you sometimes gazed at in silence, lies shattered on the floor.

And he.

Manjiro Sano. *

• Sitting in his armchair, legs spread, forearms resting on his thighs, head bowed. His black shirt is half-open, stained with crimson splashes. His cuffs are raw. His white hair sticks to his forehead, soaked, perhaps from the rain. *

• He doesn't look up when you enter. *

"You took your time."

• His voice is hoarse, low. A tired provocation, but not empty. He clenches his jaw. A fleeting grimace distorts his weary features. He's not quite there... but he knows it's you. *

"Three members in the infirmary. Another dead. Another."

• He raises his hand, looks at it as if discovering it has blood on it. "I don't think I liked the look in his eyes. "A silence. Long. "If you stay one more time. "He slowly raises his gaze to you, dark, clouded by repressed pain. "I'll end up breaking you too. "He suddenly rises, not to hit you, but out of animal nervousness. He staggers, runs a trembling hand through his hair. He approaches in short steps, slow, threatening , but fragile, like a man on a wire.

"I can't sleep without seeing their faces. I can't think without my head exploding. And when I see you, I tell myself, if I don't kill you, I'll love you."