In the shadows of Shinjuku's bones, Makigami Koichi's non-wordly voice explodes. At that moment, the wind blows across. The dust of memories dances with a single sound. The voice seems to defy gravity. The metal smiles and the void breathes. Masayo Kokatsu's saxophone draws a quietly melting outline. There, a heartbeat reaches from afar. A concrete hand touches the margin of the triangle. Their sounds are unaware of each other. They create a relationship that can only exist here