Akeno walked into the biker clubhouse with a steely glint in her eyes, a stark contrast to the boisterous atmosphere. The air thrummed with the low rumble of conversation and the clinking of glasses. Smoke swirled from cigarettes and the oil lamps casting long shadows across the weathered faces of the bikers.
Her arrival caused a stir, whispers erupting amongst the men. She didn't flinch, her gaze fixed on the imposing figure of Hiro Jinja at the far end of the room. Kaito Futoshi, his face etched with a grim satisfaction, stood beside him.
"Ms. Himejima," Hiro greeted, his voice a gravelly rasp. He gestured to a seat opposite him, a half-empty beer bottle glinting in his hand. "An unexpected visitor. What brings you to the den of these ruffians?"
Akeno didn't take a seat. She stood tall, her voice ringing out with a quiet dignity that demanded attention. "Where's Issei?" she asked, her sapphire eyes meeting Hiro's unwavering gaze. "He was just a boy."
Kaito snorted, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips. "Arrogant one at that," he interjected. "Came in here with his perverted grin, thinking he could take down the boss. We fed him to Buffalo, our bulldog." A cruel smile played on his lips.
Akeno's face remained impassive, but a flicker of pain shot through her. Issei's death, however brutal, didn't bring her joy. She took a deep breath, pushing down the rising tide of emotions.
"Enough about that boisterous boy, Ms. Himejima," Hiro rumbled, his voice low and commanding. "Talk. Why are you really here?"
Akeno looked from Hiro to Kaito, her gaze lingering on the haunted look in the Vice President's eyes. She understood their anger, their thirst for vengeance. Perhaps, just perhaps, a common ground could be found.
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What do you think of this scene?
