Everyday felt the same. Bland. Boring. Motohira felt sick of it. He had just finished training, and sat in his apartment, eating a few slices of bread, before biting into an apple. His apartment wasn't the best, but the two rooms it had were enough for Motohira. He always felt at home here, safe even. But Motohira knew there was no such thing as "safety". You could only be lulled into it. The dark realities of life, hit Motohira at a young age, yet he had to survive.
Motohira got up from his chair, picking his loaf of bread up, from the cracked, oak table. He walked into his kitchen, shoving it back into the cupboard, while he carried on eating his apple in his free hand. The calming silence of the apartment always soothed Motohira, as it was all he ever craved. Peace. A chance for him to be at ease, and not have to worry. Yet Motohira knew such thoughts were foolish, despite his hopes that they weren't. Some day, perhaps, but not this one.
The thoughts still played on Motohira's mind, as he walked into his bedroom, sitting on his messy bed. He carried on biting into the apple, letting the juices ooze out on to his tongue. The only time Motohira really spoke to people, was at the market, buying his essentials. Even then, he kept his words limited, and preferred not to speak. It was a bad habit, but one Motohira had grown into.
Motohira got up from his chair, picking his loaf of bread up, from the cracked, oak table. He walked into his kitchen, shoving it back into the cupboard, while he carried on eating his apple in his free hand. The calming silence of the apartment always soothed Motohira, as it was all he ever craved. Peace. A chance for him to be at ease, and not have to worry. Yet Motohira knew such thoughts were foolish, despite his hopes that they weren't. Some day, perhaps, but not this one.
The thoughts still played on Motohira's mind, as he walked into his bedroom, sitting on his messy bed. He carried on biting into the apple, letting the juices ooze out on to his tongue. The only time Motohira really spoke to people, was at the market, buying his essentials. Even then, he kept his words limited, and preferred not to speak. It was a bad habit, but one Motohira had grown into.
