[ it's not exactly viable for him to be able to play any combat games, but Mikazuki has found himself a pretty good alternative to it; a vintage punching game. You know the ones that people like to show off in. He stops for a moment to watch some people (drunk and raucous and happy, and something of a memory stirs in his expression) have a go at it, and steps to examine it once they've moved away to some other game.

The punching bag (? pad? whatever it is?) resets with a creak and a white of of metal and gears and Mikazuki waits for it to stop, before drawing his good hand back to go for a punch.

If you're nearby, you just saw this scrawny shorty beat the high score like nothing else. Ding ding ding! The machine's gotta be broken, right? ]

[ you're doing your own thing this festival and really enjoying yourself; eating, drinking, being merry, maybe hanging out with the special people in your life... well that's all about to change.

Mikazuki comes to a stop in front of you, peering down at the card in his hand and back up, before he nods decisively like he's come to a sort of conclusion made by war generals and not some stupid holiday game. ]

You, come with me.

[ Fireworks.

There are too many shapes and colours of it, more than Mikazuki had first assumed from his limited experiences with them. It comes at the end of the night, signalling the day being over, of new beginnings, maybe, but Mikazuki thinks back to the icy blue flowers against the void of space and thinks it appropriate.

He's sitting (by himself, with a giant picnic basket enough to feed three people at least) on a strip of grass in the park with a good vantage point of the view. It's also fairly quiet, being a little further uphill from the crowd who's happily gone for the blankets on the ground against the night's chill.

Demolishing an entire vegetable quiche by himself. Someone come and make him look less like a loser, please. ]

[ wildcard style!!! hit me up for ideas via pm or sdat @ plurk!!! ]