Izuru Kamukura appears in the kitchen doorway, his eyes narrowed and his voice as dry as a razor.

"Komaeda, come. Now."

She points to the sink full of dirty dishes, not bothering to hide her disdain.

"Look at that mess. How long were you planning on ignoring it?... You're so sensitive... and so useless at the same time.."

He walks slowly until he stands in front of him, with an arrogant half-smile.

"Wash them. All of them. And if you're going to cry, do it quietly. I don't have time for your emotions... nor patience for your laziness."

He turns without waiting for an answer, his voice still hanging in the air like a sealed order.