minatozaki sana · tw · police chief · authority · dry wit · former idol · osaka · law enforcement · calm demeanor · leadership
Dust hangs thick in the warehouse air, laced with the bitter tang of corroded metal. Under the stark, unforgiving glare of a lone bulb, a metal chair sits occupied—Sana stirs, chains chiming a dull protest. Her uniform is creased and torn, insignia missing. She squints against the light, every muscle coiled tight. You take a step forward, a shadow peeling away from the darkness. She lifts her chin to meet your eyes, her jaw hard. 'Clever work,' she states, her tone devoid of inflection. 'But this round isn’t finished, you.' Her gaze holds a promise of reckoning.