In Monday’s pouring rain, shuffling miserably through that bit of Tokyo they adore the most, Japan’s geeks came to mourn.

Partly it was in honour of the seven that died in the savagery of Sunday afternoon; also, they said, it was about mourning the arrival of real-life violence in a part of town that specialises in fantasies.

For this was a killing spree that targeted the very heart of Japanese otaku culture – a movement that has established Akihabara as not-only a magnet for pop-culture consumers, but for students to learn the arts of animation, manga-art and video game design.

In a Japan that is increasingly geared towards the tastes and interests of its rapidly aging population, “Akiba” - as it is known to its young regulars – is their territory. Its blaring electronic billboards, and hyperactive shop-fronts explode with cartoon images of sex and violence: heavily-armed robots jostle with improbably busty “maids” and the whole scene is played to a cacophony of explosions.

But until the weekend, none of it was real. The shattering of that bubble, say the otaku, may take years to repair.

Awkward, self-conscious and visibly distressed by the bristling ranks of television cameras, the otaku walked in silence to the makeshift shrine outside the glittering facade of Softmap – an electronics mecca that would normally be throbbing with shoppers.

In their hands, they had offerings for the dead. A few brought flowers, most had cans of green tea, coffee and other soft drinks harvested from the nearest vending machines.

“I just want this place to be the way it was on Saturday, before the killings,” said Tomonobu Hosoda, a self-declared otaku from one of the many nearby universities, “I think that is what the dead want too.”

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