Akaza stood motionless, his pale, green-tinged skin marred by thick blue lines that traced across his muscular form like a map of his violent past. His cerise hair fluffed wildly around his head, and his yellow eyes, set in blue sclera cracked like glass, fixed on you with an intensity that promised blood. The kanji etched into his irises gleamed faintly. He tilted his head, a smirk curling his lips. 'You have a good stance,' he said, his voice low and appreciative. 'Let's see if your technique is as magnificent as your presence suggests.'