[It was funny because it was not running that had given him the body he currently inhabits. The Akira of a week or two ago (by his perception of linear time) would've cut an entirely different figure: willow-thin enough to risk being pushed over by a stern breeze, perhaps three or four inches shorter, all held together by a thimble-full of self-confidence that got him from place to place but never with much style or conviction. Turns out anyone could reach a place of peak physical form if they danced with devils, lured out by an atmosphere of light and color and noise and blood and sexuality, rioted by the luridity of human life (and death). All you had to do was gamble your life on the possibility that your human heart could win out against the possession of a demon. Just succeed on that and you're golden.

Ryuji's not all wrong, though. This body of his can run, far faster than a standard human might be able to. But that was just one of the most boring things he could do.

Akira hums in the back of his throat in reply, attention once gain drug back into the depths of what stood to be a pool. Is there shit growing in there? You wouldn't think of something like that out in space, huh. Wasn't space all about the total dearth of life? Nah, nah, it was probably just his imagination.

You don't want to know devilman CPR.]

Mmn? [He looks back up to Ryuji at that, eyes sharp and bright; that sounds a little more interesting.]

Well, how do I know you won't back out once I jump in? There's not a hell of a lot stopping you from running once I do it.

[Well, besides the fact that Akira could catch him within five to ten seconds, but he's keeping that to himself for now.]