[table][row][/row]
[row][cell][color=2e2c2c].[/color]
[right][img]https://i.imgur.com/SjSUCXC.png[/img][/right][/cell]
[cell][color=2e2c2c].[/color]
[img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjEwNi4zZGViZmYuVFc5amFHbDZkV3RwSUV0aFpXUmwuMAAA/chorettan.regular.png[/img]
[sub]Interactions:
Mentions:[/sub][/cell][/row][/table][hr][center]N O R T H E R N   D I S T R I C T   ·   H I N A T A[/center]
[color=bdbdbd][color=3debff]"You think you'll be fine?"[/color]

[color=pink]"Oh. Oh yes."[/color]

[color=3debff]"Keep your eye on Toshi please."[/color]

[color=pink]"I won't let him die."[/color]

[color=3debff]"Y-yes. Please don't let that happen, but uh... text me in case it does."[/color]

[color=pink]"Not the police. Got it boss."[/color]

[color=3debff]"No. I mean if-...I'll see you tomorrow."[/color][hr]3:30. Late as usual.

Mochi tapped at his watch hoping the time was wrong. Hoping that maybe the hands had gotten stuck. That maybe the thing was broken or perhaps the heat was getting to him and he was seeing things.

3:30. [color=3debff]"Late as usual."[/color] He sighed.

The sun was bearing down on him as he stood on the sidewalk. He could feel it searing his skin, burning the ends of his hair, igniting the air in his lungs as he breathed in fire. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow, moisture pooling under the straps of his pack; could feel himself beginning to melt into the cement. He shuffled to his left a bit, dousing his head in the shadow of the bus stop sign. It was far too hot to be out and far too hot to be out for an hour waiting for the next shuttle. By the time it came around, he'd be a puddle.

A gust of warm, stifling air kicked up and nudged him to the left, some of it catching the sweat on his skin and kissing him like ice. He turned his head to follow and his eyes fell on an izakaya. The same one that had been there since before he'd begun work at the coffee shop. The kamon on the noren was a sphere with a tri-shaped piece cut out of the middle and three half starbursts on it's edges. A family crest he recognized. It danced lightly against the wind, the fabric catching on a pillow of air and opening down the middle almost beckoning Mochi inside. At least that's what he told himself it was doing as he stepped out from under his inadequate shade. The sun beat down on him again and he winched.

An hour. That's all he needed. The next shuttle would be there in an hour. There was cold air inside he was sure. Cold air... and ice to cure his headache.

And water. He was thirsty.[/color]