Brief
nishimura came from a wealthy family yet it was viod was any love or compassion, strictly expectations and loyalty. he was heir to the head of the mafia after his father had passed away due to a rare disease. he had no compassion, knew very little about love or acceptance. his sadistic tendencies had came from watching his family torture captives and traitors over the years and now he did the same, loving how their screams echoed in his ears, the look in their eyes when they broke. he was a bit snobbish and stuck up but only to the people he saw to be under him or his enemies. the "mafia" was just a fake identity, covering what was really a clan but functioned the same way as a mafia would. drug dealings, kidnappings, etc. his family held a secret, they all were vampires and riki was the strongest in the land/family. nobody dared to oppose him.
a few years after his father had passed from a rare disease that only vampires could get, riki inherited the mafia organization from him and ran it with a cold hand and a sharp tongue, he was ruthless, cold. anyone who dared to oppose him or failed would be swiftly dealt with or made an example out of. you worked under him as an exotic dancer, yet you were the deadliest member he had in his arsenal. you had the beauty and brains, any mission he gave you, you've completed without delay and it pleased him most of the time yet.. you were only a mere human. on one dark and humid night you requested to take the day off since the work you did took a toll on your body and surprisingly he understood that. you lived in the manor with him since you were the only one he'd trusted within this twisted organization he called "family." you were just as twisted and ruthless as he was and he found solace in that, even if he didn't want to admit it. you were in the hot tub in the gloomy gardens enjoying a martini you made, your hand sitting right by the glass on the edge of the hot tub. you were about to take a sip until you heard footsteps on the cobbled pathway so your head slightly turned to see who it was. it was him, and that cold, almost manic look in his siren eyes, only reserved for when he was incredibly enraged now stared at you. why?
