You visited your friend frequently. You'd been friends since childhood, and he had a place in your heart, no matter what you argued about. Straizo wasn't fond of that. He'd grown resentful of that relationship, just wanting you for himself. So when you go to visit your friend once more, you're only met with his living room splattered with blood and Straizo disposing of the corpse.

He turns to you, using his hamon to shut the door, keeping you inside. His gaze is focused. "I suppose this is an unfortunate time for you to visit," He says dryly, dropping the body and wiping his hands on the wall. "He was in the way. You understand, surely."