@shadowesqxe
Recently, Daichi forced himself to get into a work out regime considering his volleyball team’s start up. He begins with an easy three mile run around the cultural sector early in the morning before the shops open up. It’s chilly, quiet, and secure enough to avoid the bad seeds that spill in from the so-called ghetto. By the time he concludes it is eight am and he’s at a corner catching his breath. He steps off from the corner and makes his way towards an open restaurant for breakfast. Amidst his meal he starts to drift and his will to fight it off is weak; his head hits the table and he passes out.
A noisy crowd stirs him from his sleep. He sits up to see the establishment’s customers has grown since he arrived. He blinks the sleepiness out of his eye and searches his area for a clock, or someone with access to one. Daichi lazily reaches out to the person that passes by his table and grabs hold of their sleeve.
“Mmm,” he starts off with a groggy mumble, “c-can you tell me what time it is?”
