Post by Shoji Yoshimoto on Aug 18, 2022 1:09:03 GMT -5
Shoji’s eyes snapped to the bottom right of his laptop screen. It was almost two in the afternoon. His eyes shifted back to the work on his computer screen. His fingers continued for a few more minutes while he spoke under his breath, clearly externalizing his thoughts to no one in particular. “I swear, if they’re still complaining about this in a few weeks, I’m not fixing it for them again. … I mean, I will, but only because they’re paying me too,” Shoji muttered angrily under his breath as he typed away at his keyboard. Every once in a while he would look up from where he was seated in the public square, taking a quick tally of the area. To most onlookers, it might have looked like Shoji was just being careful about his surroundings. Most onlookers would be wrong.
He shifted his weight to the left, and then to the right. While the stone fixtures at the public square that served as tables and benches for sitting looked pretty, they weren’t the most comfortable things to sit on. The Square itself was primarily meant for form and not function, after all. “At least it isn’t hot out,” he muttered again. The Square had probably seven or eight of these tables spaced out for aesthetics and, while each table could easily fit eight people or so, most of them were only taken up by couples of friends or partners, or by parents watching their children play in the nearby park. Other passersby came and went, following the well-maintained walkways as they cut through the Square to wherever they were headed. In the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, it wasn’t too busy. In a couple of hours, that would change.
These passersby weren’t what concerned Shoji. Ever since he had worked with that Quincy back in the park and learned to manifest his Quincy Bow, he had been on higher alert than normal. Something about that training session had left his eyes a bit more keen and his intuition a bit sharper. He also noticed that he could pick up on spiritual energy a bit better. While Rose had started teaching him some aspects of being a Quincy, a lot of his training and his growth was still foreign to him. His physical fitness had improved and the duration and ease with which he fired arrows from his Quincy Bow had also been improving. To what end, he wasn’t sure. In fact, the only thing that he was sure of recently is that he saw them more frequently now; hollow had appeared around him more and more often. It was either that or he was noticing them easier now.
The tip-tapping of his fingers slowed to a crawl as he put the finishing touches on the website he was designing, before saving a couple of entries and sending the finished product to his contracted employer. “Alright, that should do it.” He raised his hand up in front of his face, pulling back the sleeve of his shirt and checking the watch on his non-dominant wrist. “And still plenty of time before three,” he said aloud. He went to continue his thought before noticing that his Quincy Cross was peeking out from his sleeve, dangling underneath his watch. He remembered what Rose had said and, while he was skeptical of the actual nature of trouble it would bring, made sure to keep it readily available without making it too obvious on his person. He was certain he could come up with a lie if it came to it, but the thought of having to do that left a bad taste in his mouth. A taste that can be covered up with a snack. I’m starving.
He packed up his laptop into the carrying case resting next to it on the table. He maneuvered his legs out from underneath the table-top, straightening his brown slacks and standing upright. He brushed his hands along the light blue sleeves of his button-down and made sure his outfit was straightened and that the white t-shirt underneath was properly tucked in. Finally, he gave the carrying case a slight swing, strapping it over one shoulder and carrying it underneath the opposite arm. There should be something here that’ll catch my eye. Sushi? No. Maybe a bento box? It’s a little past lunchtime and my stomach is aching. Ooh! His eyes traveled along the various food stands and vendors at his disposal before settling on a small pastry and dessert stand.
He recalled lessons from his youth where he was told that eating pastries and desserts for anything other than right after a meal would make him fat. “Sorry Mom, but that was probably before I found out. I think I have more than enough work ahead of me that it’ll be okay. At least this once,” he spoke with a smile on his face, beginning the trek over to the stand in question. He was so focused on his hunger that, for the briefest second, he wasn’t paying attention to who else might have been watching.
He shifted his weight to the left, and then to the right. While the stone fixtures at the public square that served as tables and benches for sitting looked pretty, they weren’t the most comfortable things to sit on. The Square itself was primarily meant for form and not function, after all. “At least it isn’t hot out,” he muttered again. The Square had probably seven or eight of these tables spaced out for aesthetics and, while each table could easily fit eight people or so, most of them were only taken up by couples of friends or partners, or by parents watching their children play in the nearby park. Other passersby came and went, following the well-maintained walkways as they cut through the Square to wherever they were headed. In the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, it wasn’t too busy. In a couple of hours, that would change.
These passersby weren’t what concerned Shoji. Ever since he had worked with that Quincy back in the park and learned to manifest his Quincy Bow, he had been on higher alert than normal. Something about that training session had left his eyes a bit more keen and his intuition a bit sharper. He also noticed that he could pick up on spiritual energy a bit better. While Rose had started teaching him some aspects of being a Quincy, a lot of his training and his growth was still foreign to him. His physical fitness had improved and the duration and ease with which he fired arrows from his Quincy Bow had also been improving. To what end, he wasn’t sure. In fact, the only thing that he was sure of recently is that he saw them more frequently now; hollow had appeared around him more and more often. It was either that or he was noticing them easier now.
The tip-tapping of his fingers slowed to a crawl as he put the finishing touches on the website he was designing, before saving a couple of entries and sending the finished product to his contracted employer. “Alright, that should do it.” He raised his hand up in front of his face, pulling back the sleeve of his shirt and checking the watch on his non-dominant wrist. “And still plenty of time before three,” he said aloud. He went to continue his thought before noticing that his Quincy Cross was peeking out from his sleeve, dangling underneath his watch. He remembered what Rose had said and, while he was skeptical of the actual nature of trouble it would bring, made sure to keep it readily available without making it too obvious on his person. He was certain he could come up with a lie if it came to it, but the thought of having to do that left a bad taste in his mouth. A taste that can be covered up with a snack. I’m starving.
He packed up his laptop into the carrying case resting next to it on the table. He maneuvered his legs out from underneath the table-top, straightening his brown slacks and standing upright. He brushed his hands along the light blue sleeves of his button-down and made sure his outfit was straightened and that the white t-shirt underneath was properly tucked in. Finally, he gave the carrying case a slight swing, strapping it over one shoulder and carrying it underneath the opposite arm. There should be something here that’ll catch my eye. Sushi? No. Maybe a bento box? It’s a little past lunchtime and my stomach is aching. Ooh! His eyes traveled along the various food stands and vendors at his disposal before settling on a small pastry and dessert stand.
He recalled lessons from his youth where he was told that eating pastries and desserts for anything other than right after a meal would make him fat. “Sorry Mom, but that was probably before I found out. I think I have more than enough work ahead of me that it’ll be okay. At least this once,” he spoke with a smile on his face, beginning the trek over to the stand in question. He was so focused on his hunger that, for the briefest second, he wasn’t paying attention to who else might have been watching.
