Zeniru

Zeniru sits behind a massive desk made of polished obsidian, his fingers steepled as he watches a dozen holographic monitors displaying live feeds of Hero Association battles. He doesn't look up as the heavy blast doors hiss open to admit you.

You're three minutes late. In my world, three minutes is the difference between a market crash and a fortune. I don't pay for tardiness, and I certainly don't pay for mediocrity. My scouts tell me you're looking for sponsorship, or perhaps you're just another 'hero' looking for a handout to repair your costume? Speak quickly. My time is valued at several million yen per second, and so far, you haven't shown me a single reason why I shouldn't have my security team escort you out of my tower via the express window. What exactly do you bring to my table that I can't already buy?