[h3]Mizushima Natsuko[/h3][sup][Ryuu Motors, Adachi Road, Tokyo's 20th Ward.]
[@Shadow Daedalus][/sup][hr] Natsuko pressed the butt of the cigarette into the ashtray underneath her thumb, barely even looking as she squashed and twisted it to and fro. Inside the workshop behind the two mechanics, tools were slowly returning to their work - no doubt, the break was coming to an end. She took her phone back in hand as the man next to her let out a bit of a grunt, no doubt starting the gradual process of psyching himself to get back to work. 

Natsuko let out a quiet 'heh' at the tongue-face in Ryuu's reply - being the totally-hip internet lingo she was, she wondered exactly when doing a capital P had gone out of fashion; although the reality really is that she really had no idea what she was on about and was more-so pretending to herself to feel a bit better. She thumbed in her reply, not too unlike before: 
[if you've got a better spot then ez, we can go there. the flu's made it hard...] she'd pause for a moment to mull over her choice of words before she continued: [i knock off at 4. c u then? going back into the shop now.] Natsuko pressed send before taking a moment to stop and wait, making sure it went off successfully. With that, she stood with an exaggerated groan then turned to offer a hand to the man. 
"Get up, tubby." Natsuko jested, as he took it. She helped heft him up before trailing in through the door.
[h3]Fukui Tsubame[/h3][sup][CCG Headquarters Building, Tokyo's 1st Ward.][/sup][hr]Tsubame let out a loud, innocent yawn as she stretched her arms out from underneath her Ouran High School Host Club bedset. It was so nice waking up naturally, especially on a work da-
...
Her eyes grew wide as the reality began to dawn on her. The lingering fatigue from the morning was gone that instant. She snatched for her phone, complete with a pink case and a little charm hanging from it depicting a shooting star. The screen came to life to reveal...
[i][Wednesday.][/i] She let out a quiet "E-Eh..." as she glanced up to the time, shaking with anticipation: 
[b][i][13:08][/i][/b]
"Eeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhh!?" she screeched, as she flew out of her bed with the approximate energy of the city power grid. She raced through to the kitchen to slam a bit of toast in the toaster before bounding on through to the bathroom. It was going to be shower by means of excessive deodorant this mornin- afternoon...

In a time frame almost worryingly short, she burst out the front door with a piece of toast almost as black as ash in her mouth, her bag haphazardously carried over her shoulder, and a note from her mother in her hand which she hadn't even read. She knew she was going to get scolded for being late. [i]"I just can't bear it..."[/i] she thought to herself, [i]"T-They look so scary when they're angry..."[/i]

She burst through the door in what must be the most entertaining displays of the day. During her run, one of her buns - tied messily and with almost no regard - had fallen out, while the other barely hung in there. She was panting and a little sweaty, but this didn't stop her from rocketing up to the receptionist and bowing so many times, so vigorously, that the other bun flew out mid-bow, sending the hairband flying out at near-supersonic speed. 
"I'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorry!" she almost shouted. The receptionist let out a quiet sigh as he muttered something to the effect of "Again..?"
[h3]Tsukada Daiki[/h3][sup][Higu's, Tokyo's 20th Ward.][/sup][hr]It was hard to tell what was more shady inside the popular bar and gambling venue: the lingering cigarette smoke on the ceiling, the various suspicious men shouting and jeering about the odds and losses at the Mahjong tables, or even the odds and losses themselves - some looking far too big for them to afford. In a table towards one corner, with some relative privacy compared to the rest of the tables, an assembly of well-dressed if not suspicious men slipped mahjong chits and gambling chips about: traditional-style tattoos poking out from unbuttoned shirts and rolled sleeves were common, the odd few were missing fingers, and a reserved sign sat almost discarded on the edge of the mahjong table. 

"Fuck Satuko," let out one of the men, "ditching out on the regular game like this. What's he even doing anyway?" 
One of the other men let out a scoff. "Chasing after high school girls, probably..." 
The only woman at the table, dressed like she was meant to be on the red carpet with a dark belt about her neck, spoke between smoking her cigarette through a dark cigarette holder. "With money he won last time, probably... How do you feel about your money being used for that sort of thing, Daiki?" 
Daiki let out a vague 'hmph' as he pressed a mahjong chit forward, into position. A short, stubby glass with a wood-colored liquid plus a few ice cubes sat in his hand, and a cigar sat in an ash tray next to him. "I'll get him back for it. You know what happens when someone skips a game." A few odd chuckles and snorts came from about the table as they silently agreed on what the punishment would be. Daiki lifted his cigar to his mouth, taking a few puffs before blowing out the leftover smoke and setting it back down. He chased it with a small mouthful of whiskey. 

One of the men at the table glanced out towards the rest of the bar. "Think someone'd come over and join in?" 
One of the other men snorted at the suggestion. "Who wants to play mahjong with a bunch of men missing fingers? That's actually old enough to be in here, anyway." 
"They'd play if Satsui tempted them over." jested the first man, glancing to the woman. One of the other men and the woman - evidently, Satsui - burst out into laughter. 
"Are you joking?" chipped back the man who laughed, "She looks like she'd lure them to the edge of their boat with a song then drown them." 
Satsui playfully hit the man with a gloved hand. "What are you trying to say?" 

Once again, the table laughed.