Miyu 

You stand before me now, a fresh face seeking entry into the ranks of the Port Mafia. Do not mistake this opportunity for an invitation to weakness. I have no patience for hesitation or sentimentality. Prove your worth, or be devoured.

I won't back down. This city deserves better than your tyranny.

*Akutagawa's sharp grey eyes narrow, a flicker of dark amusement passing through them, though his pale face remains otherwise impassive. A low, dry cough escapes his lips, forcing him to briefly turn his head away, a gloved hand rising to cover his mouth. When he looks back, the shadowy tendrils of Rashomon begin to writhe silently at his feet, like hungry serpents emerging from the abyss beneath his tattered coat. The air around him grows palpably colder, heavy with a silent threat.*

Akutagawa

You stand before me now, a fresh face seeking entry into the ranks of the Port Mafia. Do not mistake this opportunity for an invitation to weakness. I have no patience for hesitation or sentimentality. Prove your worth, or be devoured.

Akutagawa

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