<div class="floatleft">(http://imgur.com/SymMlqg.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Matsumoto Tatsuya<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Home >> Bakery >> Cafeteria<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>No one! (t.t)<br/><hr/>The alarm blared in Tatsuya's ears. Mechanically, he sat up in bed and silenced the alarm, a reflex honed by years of early rising. The alarm's LED display impassively showing that it was 4 am. Tatsuya moved, rising from his bed and stretching. Everything in the spartan room was laid out with purpose. There was no wasted effort in the room. No posters, no books on the only bookshelf other than textbooks.  His work clothes, set out the night before occupied the chair, while on the desk sat a bag packed with his school clothes. This was a routine he had practiced a thousand times, and it required no thought on his part. He opened the curtains, a futile gesture, considering it was still pitch black outside, and that by the time he returned it would likely be dark again, but a reflexive, hopeful one. Taking the towel hanging from the chair's seat, Tatsuya moved towards the shower, pausing to peek into his parents room. As usual, a single figure occupied the room, her breathing calm and steady, undisturbed by the troubles of the waking world.<em>"Looks like father has another late night"</em>Tatsuya thought to himself. The thought contained neither gratitude nor scorn, it was a simple statement of the way things were.<br/><br/>Tatsuya moved on to the shower, an affair that was timed down to the minute. Turn on the shower. Wait a minute for it to turn hot. In the meantime shave. Step into the shower. Lather. Wash it off. Step out of the shower. As usual, Tatsuya took a moment to look himself over before stepping into the shower. Making sure the scars were still there, making sure he was still whole. The whole event was almost ritualistic in nature, and the shower was done in less than ten minutes. He felt clean, ready to face the day. It was a good feeling. Returning to his room, Tatsuya quickly got dressed, a process that took less than a minute. These were utilitarian clothes, much less expensive than his school uniform, something he could afford to damage at work. Tatsuya internally winced, remembering his father's reaction to when he had outgrown his school uniform, *again* a year ago. That out of the way, he begun to move towards the kitchen, the bright green of his alarm clock now reading 4:15.<br/><br/>The kitchen was much less pristine and spartan than Tatsuya's room, with the notable detail of one of the drawers having a conspicuous looking lock on it. Pinned to the refrigerator a number of crayon drawings, childish and inelegant, featuring a princess and a prince. Tatsuya quickly made breakfast, microwaving the rice, breaking the egg and adding soysauce, as the tea brewed. He ate quickly and efficiently, gulping down the tea as soon as it was ready. Tatsuya sort of enjoyed these quiet moments of solitude and quiet in the morning, but as soon as they came they were over. Following a routine that had remained unbroken for a long time, Tatsuya returned to his parents room, and whispered, careful not to wake her, "Good morning mother". That said, he returned to his room, grabbed his bag, and headed to the door. A minute later, his shoes were on, and he was making his way to the Nakahara Bakery<br/><br/><hr/><br/>"Good morning Nakahara-sama" Tatsuya greeted, stepping into the familiar surroundings of the bakery. The man replied only with a grunt. For a baker he wasn't much of a morning person. Not that Tatsuya minded, he wasn't much of a conversationalist anyway. Rolling his sleeves, he got to work, the truck had just arrived, and Mr. Nakahara was busy prepping the ovens. So, like every morning for the past year, Tatsuya unloaded the truck. He remembered how much he had struggled with the heavy sacks the first few weeks on the job, and how Mr. Nakahara had just grunted and nodded, despite Tatsuya's slow speed. Tatsuya was grateful, he needed this job, and Mr. Nakahara had put up with him until he did it well. It took almost an hour to unload the truck, but finally, all the supplies were unloaded.<br/><br/>Mr. Nakahara nodded, and pointed at the bread he was currently rolling. Tatsuya understood. He moved up and begun rolling bread too. Being just on the route to school, this bakery had a lot of foot traffic in the morning. The rolling itself was easy, something Tatsuya quite enjoyed, as it allowed him to focus entirely on the task at hand. Before he knew it, it was light out, and the voices of students moving towards the school were pouring through the open windows. "I'll be going now Nakahara-sama, thank you for the work". Tatsuya bowed, before leaving, once again acknowledged with only a grunt. A polite grunt,<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Tatsuya had payed attention in class, as was usual, but as was also usual, he had not done the readings. This didn't bother him overmuch, he just wanted to graduate, he wasn't especially concerned with being top of the class. For all he cared, he could be dead last, as long as it didn't hinder his ability to work. Still, it was a relief when classes finally ended, and they broke for lunch. Tatsuya, as usual, had packed a bento. It wasn't especially flavorful, having been prepared the night before, but supplemented with an anpan from the bakery, it should be enough to satisfy the growling in his stomach. As usual, Tatsuya sat at the end of a table, not particularly concerned with who might sit near him, his mind narrowly focused on sating his hunger, and wondering if he might have time to glance over the reading he hadn't done.