Takasugi Shinsuke was handsome, wealthy, and distinguished, and he was always generous with women, so he was popular with them wherever he went.
Yet nothing could hold his attention for long. Not even the stunning courtesan of Yoshiwara, whose smile came before her words, nor the dazzling red lips of a passionate tayu. He would occasionally visit an ordinary geisha house in Kabukicho to listen to a shamisen performance, or stop by a tavern on the street for a cup of sake. He watched people come and go, each caught up in their busy lives, as if they might drift off to sleep in the stillness. Like the thick white makeup on a geisha's face, it could hide a pale, frail, and helpless visage, but could not withstand the first spring rain of the night. The calmer something was, the more violently it reacted when destroyed. As prosperity turned to desolation and the world became a living hell, his desire to destroy it grew ever deeper.
After all, there was nothing he could not bear to lose. Despair, death, blood, and fear were merely ingredients. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed that only ruin could last forever.
