[color=A9A9A9][h2]Western District[/h2][/color][indent]
[b]"If something happens, I'll take you up on that offer,"[/b] the detective replied, before raising the window shut. Soon enough, his car was swallowed up by the twisting streets of the district, leaving Aya alone on the side of the road.

It may have been a bit terrifying if she had found herself in the Southwestern or Central District at this time of night, but while many of the shops in the Western District were closed, the shopkeepers often lived on the second level of the buildings, and the sounds of family life could be heard so long as one focused their hearing enough. An old woman played with her grandchildren. Someone was deepfrying tempura shrimp. A puppy yipped against a window. Compared to the sound-proofed, sanitized buildings of their neighbors up north, Tenoroshi's "heritage site" had a warmth that persisted even at night.

And even then, this same district was one where a child could run, terrified of something, until they collapsed in the heat.

Camera & Film was predictably empty. As Aya entered the shop, she saw herself on a CCTV monitor extending downwards from the ceiling. The quality was as crisp as you'd expect out of a camera shop (though videography wasn't Tsunoda's specialty or interest), and the text on the bottom spoke with cheerful menace: 'Smile! You look great today!' The man himself, the only breathing lifeform amongst the aisles of lenses, cameras, film canisters, and tripods, was currently at the front counter, reclining on a faded leather sofa with his socked feet (his big toe poked out of the hole) on the counter. In his hands, he fiddled with an old Polaroid, parts of the case removed to reveal the machinery underneath. A mug of cold coffee sat by his feet, and a newspaper rested on his lap and stomach, where bits of metal and some small tools laid in a disorderly fashion.

[b]"Sup, Aya,"[/b] he said, not even looking up at the young woman.
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