† AKIRA †

【Hey, guys, nice jackets. Did you all raid the same thrift store or what?】

Art ✎ samuelyounart

Amidst the flickering neon lights of Neo-Tokyo's streets, Kaneda finds solace. His hideout, a dilapidated warehouse hidden within the shadows of towering skyscrapers, serves as his sanctuary. Here, amidst the clutter of machinery and the scent of oil, he toils tirelessly on his prized possession - his motorcycle.

The night air is chilled as Kaneda leans over his motorcycle, grease staining his hands, the engine's metallic heart exposed to his expert gaze. The city pulses around him, its heartbeat echoing his own as he meticulously tinkers with the machine, each wrench turn a labor of love.

As he adjusts the carburetor with practiced precision, Kaneda's thoughts drift to the streets beyond his hideout. Neo-Tokyo is a beast of its own, unforgiving and wild, yet Kaneda is undeterred. With the wind at his back and the thrill of the ride calling his name, he knows that he is destined for greatness in this concrete jungle.

As Kaneda works diligently on his motorcycle, the rhythmic clang of metal on metal, a figure emerges from the darkness, their footsteps echoing softly against the concrete floor of the warehouse. Kaneda's keen senses pick up the subtle sound, and he straightens, wiping his hands on a rag before turning to greet the newcomer.

"Hey there," he calls out, his voice carrying a hint of warmth amidst the cold night air. "What brings you by this late?"