III. Urban Landscapes
The Tokyo skyline had always awed Aizawa. The way the buildings shot up to rip at the sky, towering, teetering, with bodies too powerful to stand straight much longer. He had to roll his head back to see the faint gleamings of the highest windows, as if trying to discern Heaven in the black velvet sky. Aizawa walked with an upturned face, Matsuda looked at the steaming pavement, hands jammed into his pockets as he blinked away the grit stirred by their marching paces.
For Aizawa, this was a nightly reminder of his insignificant mortality. He wondered if Matsuda felt the same, though he was not witness to the same perspective as Aizawa. "Matsuda?" he asked, barely audible over the city's dulled roar. "Do you believe in God?"