The blasted-out streets of Shinjuku are fun to walk through in the aftermath of the detonation. Something about the screams of terror and broken windows are very...aesthetic. Calming, in a way. This is where he belongs, stalking somewhere between the tragedy and the aftermath, in the collapse between the push and the ground.

Or...used to belong, anyway. It's familiar to him, nonetheless.

Akira follows a few back alley paths to the center of the explosion, taking in the destruction, until he spots the perpetrator.

"Good job, kouhai," he compliments him. "It looks beautiful."