[center][h1][color=ad4e92]H[/color]OSHINO [color=ad4e92]N[/color]ORIAKI[/h1][/center]
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[color=ad4e92][sub][b]D A T E[/b][/sub][/color][hr][sub]April 9th 2018[/sub]

[color=ad4e92][sub][b]L O C A T I O N[/b][/sub][/color][hr][sub]Commercial Kyoto[/sub]

[color=ad4e92][sub][b]T A G S[/b][/sub][/color][hr][sub][@Hero][@Scribe of Thoth][@WXer][@psych0pomp][/sub][/cell][cell][indent]
It was a great relief that for all her disinterest, the clerk seemed to ring the group up with a sense of expediency. It was probably just so she could go back to flicking through some trashy rag or another, but it didn't matter to Noriaki. All that mattered to him was the greasy slab of boneless meat inside the wrapping he held, and the bread with which to sandwich it. He tore through plastic and paper alike with his teeth, and hastily assembled his mid-afternoon delight before the group even had a chance to leave the store. 

The payoff was heavenly, and as he bit through soft dough and crunchy chicken, he was privy to perhaps the one time he had been truly relieved since leaving home earlier that morning. The humble famichiki sandwich had been his reprieve after way too many long, arduous practices. A reward for a day of hardworking, shared with friends now lost to him, where he could sate his hunger and laugh away whatever woes the coaches and upperclassmen had caused among like minded individuals. It had been [i]months[/i] since he could relish in the familiar comfort of its taste, and it seemed that the fellows that had accompanied him had also tucked in during his reverie. 

But they did not share his bliss. Like Senators to Caesar, they drove their dissenting opinions into his brief moment of happiness until it all bled away from him like an Emperor betrayed. Gripping his precious sandwich in one hand, he placed his other on the edge of the counter, leaning towards the duo with animosity in his eyes entirely unwarranted by the critique of a simple piece of convenience store chicken.

[color=ad4e92]"You're both disgraces to your uniforms."[/color] Noriaki told them as if it was plainly obvious fact, and he was its arbiter. It was all he could do not to launch into a tirade against these Lawson's apologists, and their preference for overpriced, over-breaded garbage. It was warranted, absolutely, but it was inevitable that Noriaki would become a regular at this location, and he didn't want to start a scene here. Especially not in front of the manager, who had apparently materialized while he was enjoying his brief walk down memory lane. 

The presence of the older man gave him an excuse to redirect his anger to something more productive. Leaning on the counter as he was, he couldn't help but notice the help wanted sign that had just been smoothed out before him. He scanned it with icy eyes, pondering for a few seconds. He certainly could do with the money; the Hoshino family was not an especially wealthy one, and the pet store trip had burnt into what meager savings from birthdays and holidays he called his own. Usually, a part-time job would have cut into his baseball practice, but that wouldn't be a problem any longer, as bitter as that thought was to him. It would be good to have something to spend his afternoons doing. Might even impress that pin-headed parole officer.

[color=ad4e92]"I'll do it,"[/color] He suddenly piped, straightening up so he could look the manager in the face, [color=ad4e92]"I'll take the job."[/color]

Hopefully the cashier wouldn't make good on her promise of an impromptu throat surgery. 
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