Tap, step. Tap, step. Tap, step.

Yamada left his ground apartment carrying his bag over one shoulder, a paper cup coffee in one hand and leaning heavily on a cane with the other. He'd been lucky enough to find an apartment close to the school, however small it might be. The notion to burn it down crossed his mind. He'd yet to set fire to somewhere people actually lived, strangely enough. It might be a little close to home however, so perhaps another building might do.

Yamada limped the length of the hallway, hugging the right hand wall and avoiding centre where people tended to rush. He bypassed the administration office rather than stop to take a key for the elevator. Checking the class roster now, he noted that his homeroom was on the fourth floor and resolved to leave earlier in the morning to avoid being late. With only a passing glance to gauge how full the class would be, Yamada turned to head for the stairs. The class number stirred his interest only on the most basic level. It was interesting, but not likely to impact anything.

With each step his bag swung on its strap and tapped him gently on the hip. Reaching the first landing, he stopped and leaned against the wall, pulling off the bag and adjusting the strap so that it would be snug diagonally across his back. Retrieving the cane, he finished the long climb to the top floor. He finished the coffee paces from the classroom door. Crushing the cup in one hand, he tossed it into the garbage and limped into the classroom, finding himself to be one of the last to arrive.