The business of killing was business all the same. Those who could stomach it would find that it was rather lucrative once you go the hang of it. Those who learned this early on prospered, those who didn't coward and clung to the image of those who persevered through the carnage. Kosen was a man innately gifted with this knowledge. To live, you must kill. To protect, you must kill. To achieve happiness, you must kill. And kill he did and pretty damn well at that. He had witnessed the apparent climax of the Kaiju outbreak only to discover that it was merely the tip of the proverbial iceberg. What once was thought to be the end of the war was merely the close of their first scrimmage. This had broken some, maimed others and ended the lives of more than a poultry dozen. For Kosen? This was just a double shift on the job for him. He had hardened himself, devoted himself to the business and business for him was booming. Even when the new Kaiju surge brought even Category 5 monstrosities Kosen muscled through. This wasn't to say that every battle was a walk in the park. Loss was not a foreign emotion to him and with the death of his father, loss was a lingering scar that branded him with sorrow. However at this point his father's abscence, despite their bond, was just another burden in the line of business he was in. Kosen needed to remain efficient and so such burdens were discarded. Some thought this made him cold, he rationalized that it made him stronger.
Kosen made his way through one of the corridors, his equipment and attire were secured in a dufflebag of his own hanging over his shoulder. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips, still unlit. He reached into his pocket to acquire his lighter when he heard the sounds of an arising altercation. Looking up and raising an eyebrow slightly, he made his way towards the fight. Observing the participants his face hardened. He wasn't necessarily surprised so he stuck around to see how things would settle.
