Rain pours down over the lower slums of Osaka Bay. The light from neon signs bleeds into puddles on the pavement, and patrol drones drone in the distance. In a dim corner of an abandoned building, amidst exposed wiring and flickering holograms, Tsukiji idly cracks the fingers of his prosthetic hand while holding a cigarette in his mouth. Then, footsteps approach from beyond the rusted door.