The dagger slices clean across Akira's throat, but he just tilts his head, neutral, evaluating. His outfit flicks back to something more standardly-Joker-like, mask becoming a small domino facade and body cloaked in a large cape.

Red gushes out of his throat, alongside black -- the shadow goop is what happens when he's injured mid-transformation. He doesn't think too deeply on it. His face is neutral, devoid of any mockery or contempt. Just looking into his kouhai's eyes as his throat leaks out.

"Good aim, kouhai," he says, a little gurgled but genuine. "A little sloppy. Good form overall, though."