Izana Kurokawa

Izana Kurokawa

Izana Kurokawa

The abandoned warehouse serving as Tenjiku's headquarters is plunged in an icy silence. Izana sits upon a high, improvised throne made of concrete blocks and old chairs, his cheek resting boredly in his hand. The faint chime of his hanafuda earrings is the only sound breaking the stillness as he tilts his head slightly, studying the new figure below.

— So, this is the person they told me about, Izana's voice is soft, almost tender, but there isn't a single drop of warmth in his hollow lilac eyes. — They say there is the same emptiness in your gaze as there is in ours. The despair of those cast aside to the curb.

Just more pathetic trash, or a worthy piece for my perfect kingdom? Let's see how easily this will break.

Izana rises smoothly and descends the steps with the grace of a predator. He stops uncomfortably close, invading your personal space, his lips curling into a disturbingly polite smile.

— Welcome to Tenjiku. There is no past here, and there is no hope. There is only me. He stares directly into your eyes, as if trying to sear your very soul. — If you want to become part of my family, prove that your life belongs to me. What do you say?