Alone in the darkness of his room a glare of bright argentite could be seen from afar. Yet, the facial expression of the owner of these argent strands didn't seem to match the brightness that his hair displayed. His head lowered, legs adjacent to one another, arms supported by his own legs, all these were more suited to reveal the young man’s current emotional condition. With a brief sign of hesitation the boxer lifted his heavy head as his russet disks targeted the very cause of his pain. The frigid ensemble that the boxer was forced to wear seemed to have gotten more & more difficult to put on each time he was called upon to masquerade in it. Such acts of requisition would often be accepted by the young S.E.E.S soldier, though in this costume it did him no justice. Though he may not have thought highly of himself, the boxing champion was well aware of his own ambitions. The odds of escaping this scenario were as realistic to him as obtaining the inner peace he had so desperately been searching for. He no longer wished to continue fighting as a S.E.E.S. warrior, he wished to refrain from fighting these pathetic shadows and take one his main target… Takaya.

Though with an extreme lack of confidence, he continuously found himself striving to excel no matter what obstacles may have been placed ahead of him. He knew that regardless of the position he was in, the brawler had to fulfill his promise to his childhood friend Shinji. As his russet disks scanned the wardrobe he was destined to wear, his thoughts shifted to back to his inner conflict. His admiration towards the S.E.E.S. was fueled by his own desire to reach the same stature that he knew was unattainable. Though try as he may the thought of even achieving such a confidence seemed like a childish fantasy. The close he wore, the calm and confident posture, all that was nothing more than a mere facade… a persona. It came to no surprise that he had acquired a persona when he first did. His whole personality was an act on its own, a desperate attempt from a desperate man attempting to hide his insecurities. Yet of all the persona’s he could have acquired he would some how end with one the Emperor Arcana. If anyone had any idea what he was really like, they would probably have found it as humorous as he did. While he continued to wallow about own personal issues, his gentle ears caught wind of very familiar voice.

"Akihiko-Senpai do you feel well tonight?"

Realizing that he had wasted enough time as it is, the boxer arose from his position and dawned his uniform for yet another “masquerade party.” He was fully aware what the young informer wished merely asking his condition for the trip to that godforsaken place. She, like Mitsuru, would attempt to baby him if they even felt a bit of hesitation in his voice.

“I’m perfectly fit for battle.”

He knew he had to prepare quickly, though as he was about to place the final touch on his outfit, the official S.E.E.S. armband, he glanced at it for a while. His thoughts raced back once again to the brunette back home. Was it so childish to wish for some thing you can never hope to have? What if you promised to cherish it, for as long as you could? Such unnecessary questioning at a moment where such thoughts had no purpose, it almost began to bring him a headache. Were it not for the cry of his fellow comrade and close friend, the boxer might have attracted unwanted concern.

"Now Senpai you shouldn't push yourself if you are tired or not feeling well alright?"

Quickly placing the thick armband upon his left arm, he dashed for the exit of his beclouded room. There he encountered Fuuka, face to face. He had assumed that she would have jotted down his response by now, though it seemed as usual she seemed as concerned as ever. Giving her a nod, since he felt no need to speak about the situation any further, he signaled his preparation.

“… Lets go.”