Hiryu was just slowing to a halt from his morning run through the city, with his backpack. His heart was still racing although his body was stopped. He was heaving, with sweat trickling from his brow, but he faced the sky with closed eyes, basking in the early morning rays of the sun, the new wind of the day and the tingling sensation in his abdomen and legs from his work out. It was a euphoric pain to him, a pain that signalled to him that he was awake, that he was alive. He stood there basking in the moment until he regained control of his respiration. He pulled up the hood of his jogging suit and folded his hands into the front pocket flap and walked the rest of the way to the guild hall. As he walked through town, Hiryu found himself so incredibly aware of how familiar the morning sights were. He was suffering from the symptoms of routine. As a gypsy-born traveller, he wasn't used to constantly operating matching days in the same location for an extended time. Now being a part of the guild, his initial wanderer lifestyle was quelled. By this time, it didn't matter which path Hiryu took to the guild, he could find his way to it by routine with his eyes closed most likely.

Hiryu pushed firmly against the double wooden doors and upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary (by guild standards, not absolute standards, mind you...). Once inside, Hiryu didn't motion to anyone in particular, shuffling through the foyer and bar to reach the stairs. He had a backpack on, in which he held a change of clothes and bathing materials. Hiryu would typically start days this way, finishing his jog at the guild and change ready for work here rather than at home. Through the corner of his eye, though, he noted that parchments and papers masked the dark brown face of the mission board.

The guild finally had missions!