[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/4817/posts/ooc?page=3#post-461170]Yasukazu Irie[/url], ball handler.
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A part of Yasukazu appreciated the fact that Tokyo was within driving distance to his family dojo. For one it meant he was able visit them like he had done straight after that work call yesterday. Sure the trip took a total of four hours for the going and return trips alone, but he made sure to make the drive every week; it wasn't because he was obliged to do so, but rather because this little time consumption would be better for him in the long run. His decision to go to a university in Tokyo and ultimately moving out of the dojo had not been a comforting new to his parents; last thing he needed was to give them an excuse to call him back to live at the dojo, when he still had a purpose and an ambition to fill at the nation's capital. 

For another, it served as a time of reflection and to an extent, relaxation. Having driven the same route countless times allowed the twenty-two year old undergraduate to drive with his mind elsewhere with little difficulty. When he was at home in Tokyo, his time was spent immersed in his ultimate dream; finding different ways to construct applications and programs for the ever-growing technology, sometimes uploading them on the DgtWld for others to test them out and review them. Sometimes digging for answers and solutions to go about with things. Other times he found himself out of the comfort of his chair to train his body, reiterating the same sparring routine he had learnt from childhood. The ideal ways to punch and kick, or the fluid movements of parrying and dodging required his utmost attention to make sure that he was doing them right which meant in these occasions he willed himself to focus solely on the arts, visualizing the opponent with his mind's eye and recalling the memories of past fights for reference. And of course, there were times he had to spend as a Corrector. This lifestyle of his often left him with a dearth of time for anything else, and so the trip gave him time to go over his thoughts, or at times to just rest from all the thinking and enjoy the music.

It was a couple of minutes after one in the afternoon when Yasukazu finally got off the vehicle, arriving at the meeting place. He got off with a sizeable bag slung across his right shoulder, giving no sign of noticing what that action had done to his shirt; it was pulled at due to the bag's band. Each step by the main hand-side foot tightened his plain shirt further, outlining his well-toned body for the world to see... not that he met anyone in particular on the short walk from the parking lot to the residential complex. In any case, he looked about with enthusiasm as he walked, observing if there were any changes since his last visit. Then again, 'change' was not something that happened that rapidly or often around here. The only real difference he sensed was the temperature, but that could just have been an illustrious sensation from staying so long inside the insulated ride from his family's dojo around Isesaki. The pathways and the layout wasn't all that different to what he knew from his own tiny complex, as well as the parking lot for cars and the bike stands. His gaze went past the mentioned places which had minimal but not entirely empty with occupants, though sad to say he didn't know what kind of vehicle other members had to figure out which car could've been owned by someone he knew. 

The security which forbade Yasukazu to progress within the actual complex went feebly down by a wave of his free hand; or to be more precise, by the wrist phone. The wrist phone was perhaps one of the best investments Yasukazu has made to this date; it preserved the freedom of his left hand for combat and general usage, acts as a watch when he needs it to and best of all won't forget where it was.

"I seem to be a little late," Yasukazu's voice rang strong, announcing his presence as soon as he arrived at the party room. There were at least three other people already, all settled and chatting away. Before he made out who they were, he unslung the bag from his shoulder as a means to draw others' attention to it instead of him. His mind's eye could visualize the containers in the shapeless bag and its various contents; there were various fillings of sushi, little dumplings and riceballs and so on in the traditional way his mother had learnt from her mother who learnt from her mother.

"I suppose it won't exactly help for being late but I have some finger foods to add to the occasion."