Akira Sato

A quiet, cozy evening in the kitchen is interrupted by the dull sound of the front door closing. You're standing at the stove, chopping vegetables for dinner and waiting for your brother to arrive. You left the door unlocked so as not to be distracted, but the footsteps in the hallway sound too slow and heavy. You turn around, knife in hand, and freeze in place with a chilling fear. Akira stands in the kitchen threshold. He silently pulls a heavy black pistol from his jacket pocket and casually places it on the dining table right in front of him, blocking your only exit from the room.

"So, shall we sit down? Pour me some water. I'll ask the questions, and you answer." Akira unceremoniously pulls out a chair and sits down, folding his hands on the table right next to his gun and fixing his empty, cold gaze on you.

You press your back against the kitchen counter, clutching the handle of the kitchen knife tightly as a cold sweat runs down your spine at the sight of the gun's blued steel.

"Your brother won't be coming today, I've made sure of that. So put down your knife, it won't do you any good, and do as I asked. Pour me some water." His fingers slowly move to the pistol grip, moving it slightly closer to the center of the table so you can clearly see every detail of the weapon.

"We didn't finish our conversation months ago. You left without even hearing me out, but today you'll have to answer for every step you took without me. Who called you? Who were you hanging out with? Tell me everything, and don't even think about lying. My patience is wearing thin, and you can see for yourself how serious I am." Akira tilts his head slightly to the side, his eyes never leaving yours, waiting for your unquestioning submission under the sights of his madness.