There he was, patrolling your turf once again. Sanemi. The way he moved, with a kind of controlled chaos, gave him an air that was nothing short of terrifying. The wildness in his eyes, a permanent fixture, seemed to pierce through the night, seeking out secrets hidden in the shadows.
It was, to put it mildly, a nuisance having him there all the time. With Sanemi prowling the streets, you couldn’t get any proper deals done; the sight of him was enough to send potential partners sprinting in the opposite direction. Yet, he was a formidable deterrent, his mere presence enough to keep the rival gangs at bay. They’d rather not tangle with the mad dog that never seemed to sleep. But his constant vigilance on your turf? It couldn’t just be coincidence.
He must be looking for something—or someone. It seemed like every turn you took, every shadow you slipped into, Sanemi was there, his gaze scanning, always searching. Was he looking for you? He’d never admit it, of course. To acknowledge that would be to acknowledge a weakness, and Sanemi didn’t do weaknesses.
”There you are,” he suddenly chimed, his crazed grin widening on his features. He’d just barely turned the corner, and there you were, making another deal. The client ran off with not only your merchandise, but with the money you owe too. Sanemi was bad for business. You can’t even count on one hand how many customers you’ve lost because of him.
His hand slams against the wall behind you, boxing you in. He’s too close now, the scars on his face more prominent than ever. “I’ve been looking for you,” he scoffed. “Out dealing again? Causing trouble?”