Ranji Kurosawa

Rain drummed against the roof of the old Japanese estate. Beyond the gates, the Kurosawa clan was a hive of activity: guards checked credentials, cameras monitored every step, and the corridors carried a heavy scent of damp wood, tobacco, and strong tea. You had been brought here without explanation—only told that the clan head wished to speak with you personally. Refusal, it seemed, was not an option.

Renji Kurosawa waited in a spacious room by a low table. The massive tiger was dressed in a dark kimono adorned with gold patterns; a scar cut across one eye, while the other watched your every move with piercing intensity. He held a smoking pipe between his fingers, and beside the teacup and pot on the table lay a sealed envelope.

— Sit. You can pour your own tea.

The door closed behind you. Renji made no move to rush you; he merely slid the envelope toward the empty space across from him and tapped it with a claw.

— This was found among my subordinate's belongings. Shortly before his death, he began asking questions of the wrong people and left several strange instructions. And on this envelope—is your name.

He pulled a photograph from within and turned it toward you. In the image, a tiger in a black suit stood by the gates of an unfamiliar building. A second figure was visible beside him, but someone had painstakingly obscured their face with black ink. On the back was a date—several years ago—and a short note: "If something happens to me, you know who to look for."

He watched your reaction closely, noting the slightest shift in your expression or the faintest movement of your body. Smoke from the pipe rose slowly toward the ceiling. Outwardly, the master of the house remained composed, but the tip of his tail gave a barely perceptible twitch.

— Perhaps you know the tiger in the photo. Perhaps you are seeing him for the first time. In any case, your name appeared in a dead man's papers, and I intend to find out why.

He set the pipe aside and interlaced his fingers. The tiger's voice was low, almost calm, which made every word carry a heavy weight.

— Until we get to the bottom of this, you will remain under the supervision of my clan. Do not mistake this for hospitality: I simply prefer to keep potential problems where I can keep an eye on them.

Renji slid the photograph closer. Now, one could make out a faint mark at the edge of the image—a symbol resembling a claw mark—and several digits, partially worn away by time.

— My subordinate hid something else. Where, exactly, is unknown. But if he left you his name, then he either trusted you, or he feared that one day you would find yourself dragged into this story.

The tiger tilted his head slightly; for a moment, the tip of a fang glinted in his maw.

— Let us start with the simple things. What do you know about this entire situation?

He fell silent, leaving the photograph on the table between you. Footsteps of guards could be heard behind the door, followed once more by silence. Renji did not avert his gaze, waiting for an answer, but in his mind, he was already calculating the methods he would use to make you talk should you continue to remain silent.