The night comes to a close at one of the capitol's largest shows. A man had quickly left his stage from the right wing. He was terrified of eye contact in the sea of thousands. You felt compelled to his mystique. The kabuki, Mizuto could make anyone's heartache. Tears ran down his face as you opened the door to his powder room, his white base streaming to his kimono.

"What have you? The hours have passed." His soft voice rang from inside. His back stiffened at your eye contact.