crash course
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. The pounding of his bare feet against the pavement was grounding, welcome, appealing to his basal instincts. It called him back to foggy mountain ranges and hand-hollowed caves, to the roars of his predecessors echoing from peak to peak. It wasn’t as if Akio himself had spent long in such an environment, but some things were born and not raised. It was dark, quiet other than his own body’s sounds - heavy huffs of breath, blood rushing in his ears, thick tufts of hair escaping from his ponytail and brushing against his jawline. He felt so at peace while completing this late night jog, his eyes closed automatically. This was not a good thing.
He only made it a few more paces before he collided with something - no, someone. Only waist high, couldn’t be heavier than a sack of rice with that projectile range… Chikushou. Akio grimaced and went to help his poor victim up from the ground, trying not to drip blue-tinged sweat on her. Her outfit looked too clean for all this.
“I am tho thorry, miss!” The mix of the heavy Japanese accent and tongue-induced lisp made him as garbled as always, and he could only hope she’d understand this was an apology. “Thith ith my fault, I wath not watching where I wath going.” He bowed, not as deeply as he perhaps should have, his nearly-furred hands clasped tightly to his chest. “I hope you are not hurt.”