[color=CD5555][b]NAGAKU OTOYA[/b][/color] - Central District: Outside Sharehouse[hr]
Not a fruitful session.

Otoya wondered if he was losing his touch. His emotions were the core of all his songs, a good third of the band’s discography, but it was getting stale. Frustration, that bitter anger crusted into his psyche, it was all he had. Their followers always commended the relatability of a new track, but he could feel doubt creeping up his throat. Surely, they were getting as worn down as he was.

He tried to get something out today, strumming away by the riverside. Dead cats and assaults, shouldn’t have been hard to get a song out of that, right? A harsh melody and a few chords were all his creativity could produce. 

His ribs were sore. His bruises were still fresh. He decided to head back.

An early promise the clubhouse had made between itself was to keep attention away from their living situation. For Otoya that meant no disturbing the neighbors with his music. Friggin’ annoying but whatever. It didn’t stop him from singing as he walked back, trying to knock out some decent lyrics into his Notes app.

Voice recording would have sounded fine if it weren’t for those loudass birds.

Strange stuff. As a Southern kid he knew what kind of fauna flocked around the garbage heaps. Whatever was going down in that alley seemed… excessive. 

More out of idle curiosity than anything else, he wandered towards it. Fumiko was already there, and he greeted her with a casual, [color=CD5555]“Oi.”[/color]

Hopefully, it wasn’t gonna be another dead stray.