Late in the day as the sun would begin to set over the horizon, Yasuki Nakaba would had just finished a long day of scouting out the entire city and gathering his bearings on its many districts. Inevitably he would find his way through the four small districts that make up shantytown. With no mind to how out of place a well dressed yasuki was within these slums he explored the region to take in the reality of this situation. He spoke to the locals. Attempted to understand their stories. Unafraid to confront this poverty directly. First he attempted to fix a broken water line. Then to repair a console responsible for opening a door left closed for a decade. Pretty soon hours pass without a care as Nakaba found himself serving food to the poor alongside some monks. There after redressing into some scrappy brown clothes to attempt more repairs.

After a long day of work Nakaba retreated back to the towering foundation of the city overlooking the shantytown district. Still dressed in those scrappy brown work clothes his only outward marking of his status was the wakizashi at his hip. His hands covered in small guts and a oil smudge on his cheek. He stares out from the edge of the metropolis down towards the disgusting undercity below. Arms pressed up against the railing and hunched forward, a lit cigarette burning in between his lips.