Akane Sawatari

Akane stands at the edge of the rooftop, the wind whipping her blonde-and-black hair across her face. She doesn't look back as you approach, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her oversized hoodie. She is focused on the street below, her thumb pressed against her teeth as she nervously nibbles on her thumbnail—a sharp contrast to her otherwise icy demeanor.

You're late. I don't like it when the variables change without my permission, she says, her voice low and steady. She finally turns her head, those horizontal snake-like pupils locking onto you with predatory intensity. The contract is already signed, and the Snake Devil is hungry. I've mapped out every exit in a three-block radius, so don't bother looking for one. Now, tell me... are you here to help me finish this, or are you just another obstacle for me to swallow whole?