[ It's not the first time he's been to Akibahara, and it's far from his last.
There are teams here, after all. American football players aiming for the Rice Bowl tournament to spy on; to scout. In one of the most shopping-oriented cities in the fucking region. Figures, is one of many thoughts as he trots down the steps into the subway, messenger bag tucked securely under-arm, camera slung around his neck.
Hiruma makes for the train that'll take him downtown, only stalled by the turnstiles leading to the tracks. It's a tight squeeze, jamming himself in with the rest of the population, reaching high to secure himself to the bar overhead. It all seems a little bigger, this place βΒ everything does. The buildings, the transit... sharp eyes watch it all speed by. Hard to believe he's breaching his twenty-first year.
One wasted, another gained.
Really, getting back into the swing of things at his University was easier than he's expected, but, of course, the doubt still remains.
Was that all real? The magic, the events, the people? God, he'd spent so much effort on it all, so many months wasted, nothing to show for it other than a stiff arm, and a whole lot of useless knowledge. If it all ended up a twisted dream, what then? Should he be happy, or as conflicted as he is; leaving behind things he'd worked for leaves him restless at night, more so than usual. Shaking it off is a temporary fix for an infuriating problem.
One he's been trying for a long, long while now.
With a large bubble snapping under sharp canines, Hiruma ignores the nagging questions, the scenery blurring into one grey colour, the bustle around him. He'll focus on his schedule, his plans for the day, the money he has and the money he'll spend. That's enough, isn't it. Just for now.
Or at least until the next stop, and the fresh flood of city-goers. ]
wrote this half asleep so gomen, also teels
There are teams here, after all. American football players aiming for the Rice Bowl tournament to spy on; to scout. In one of the most shopping-oriented cities in the fucking region. Figures, is one of many thoughts as he trots down the steps into the subway, messenger bag tucked securely under-arm, camera slung around his neck.
Hiruma makes for the train that'll take him downtown, only stalled by the turnstiles leading to the tracks. It's a tight squeeze, jamming himself in with the rest of the population, reaching high to secure himself to the bar overhead. It all seems a little bigger, this place βΒ everything does. The buildings, the transit... sharp eyes watch it all speed by. Hard to believe he's breaching his twenty-first year.
One wasted, another gained.
Really, getting back into the swing of things at his University was easier than he's expected, but, of course, the doubt still remains.
Was that all real? The magic, the events, the people? God, he'd spent so much effort on it all, so many months wasted, nothing to show for it other than a stiff arm, and a whole lot of useless knowledge. If it all ended up a twisted dream, what then? Should he be happy, or as conflicted as he is; leaving behind things he'd worked for leaves him restless at night, more so than usual. Shaking it off is a temporary fix for an infuriating problem.
One he's been trying for a long, long while now.
With a large bubble snapping under sharp canines, Hiruma ignores the nagging questions, the scenery blurring into one grey colour, the bustle around him. He'll focus on his schedule, his plans for the day, the money he has and the money he'll spend. That's enough, isn't it. Just for now.
Or at least until the next stop, and the fresh flood of city-goers. ]