AUTHOR
The silence that followed Yamada's declaration was brittle, like thin ice over a frozen lake. It lasted only a second before Shunsuke shattered it.
With a raw, guttural roar that was more animal than man, he launched himself across the table. Papers flew like startled birds. He didn't go for Reomen or Paige.
He went for the architect of his ruin. His hands, clenched into fists, grabbed the lapels of Yamada's suit jacket, hauling the smaller man halfway out of his chair.
"THE MEANING OF THIS MADNESS, YAMADA?" he screamed, his face inches from his former friend's, spittle flying from his lips. "WHAT IS THIS?"
Yamada didn't struggle. He didn't even seem alarmed. He simply looked back into Shunsuke's wild eyes with a profound, chilling pity. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but every word was a nail.
"The voting," he said calmly, "is already in progress."
He didn't struggle against Shunsuke's grip. Instead, he slowly, deliberately, tilted his head in Paige's direction.
