Toma Tanaka - April 27th, Afternoon | Yoshida Book Café
The red haired boy leaned forward on the counter, quite literally twiddling his thumbs as he waited for anyone to enter the store and give him something to do.
As he stared at the shelves across the room, considering grabbing a book to read, he heard a door sliding open behind him and some shuffling. Looking over his shoulder, Toma saw Yoshida entering through the back door, rubbing his tired eyes. When his eyes met the boy's, an apologetic expression flashed across his face as he stepped closer.
"I can't believe I fell asleep like that, I'm sorry," he said before pausing and glancing around. "Did... you look after the store while I was out?"
Toma shrugged. "Sure. I didn't want to wake you," he answered, turning away dismissively.
The old man frowned. "You should have. I need to be awake to run my shop, after all. And I would rather not make a young kid like you feel like he has to waste his time and energy to help out a decrepit old fart."
An amused huff escaped Toma as a small smirk spread across his face. "I wouldn't say you're 'decrepit' yet. You can manage to carry boxes of books still."
"I'm quite close enough to fitting that description," he answered with a scoff.
"Hm, maybe. Anyways, it wasn't any trouble. I stayed because I wanted to. You were only napping for a couple hours, and there weren't too many people to serve."
Yoshida took a few moments to reply, giving something of a defeated sigh. "Okay. Thank you, Toma-kun. I'll include extra money when I give you your pay."
The boy raised his eyebrows, but still managed to look disinterested. "You don't have to, that's not what I was going for."
"Well, I want to. I've got more money than I'll ever be able to use in the time I have left. You deserve it anyway; you're a good kid, from what I've seen."
Toma raised his eyebrows again, though this time it was more because he didn't know how else to react to those words. After a moment, he smiled and replied. "If you insist, I won't turn down extra pay, I guess."
"Turning down my generosity was never an option. Now get out of here and go do whatever it is you kids do these days."
That got another small laugh from the boy. "Sure thing."
April 29th, Morning | Ferrero Mall
Toma strolled around, sipping on his canned coffee, enjoying the spring breeze. Spring was great. And fall, for that matter. Both seasons weren't too warm, nor too cold. The perfect weather for track jackets, and God knew how much he loved his wearing his track jacket.
Over the past couple days, he had seriously been considering visiting Leiko in the hospital, to ask about her kidnapping and see if she'd tell him anything. He decided against it though, since he had only spoken with her once. Not to mention he had the feeling she wouldn't take too kindly to him barging into her hospital room and demanding answers about a traumatic experience mere days after it had happened. She was probably sick of being questioned, and he had no real right to add onto that, despite how badly he wanted to know. He resolved to talk to her at a later time.
And that was essentially the entire purpose of his walk. Along with simply killing time, he kept an eye out for those who had gone missing and turned back up, wanting to stop and talk to any of them. Sure, he could wait until school started again -- that would be a much more reliable way to locate one of them -- but that was several days away, and he didn't feel like waiting that long. And it wasn't like he had anything better to do.
As he finished his drink, he noticed a small sporting goods store. Glancing over, he perked up upon spotting a wall of soccer equipment through the window. Feeling excitement and an irresistible urge welling up inside him, he entered the store and made his way to the soccer section. He was brought back years into the past, remembering all the times he had spent in shops like these, admiring the equipment -- especially the balls and shoes. He had been able to spend hours in such a place, taking everything in several times. That had stopped several months before Taiki had passed away, as Toma had decided to quit competitive soccer to focus on school. It was a decision he'd always sort of regretted since, but still convinced himself it had been the right one -- school, after all, was more important for his future than sports, no matter how much he had dreamed of making it to the big leagues when he was a kid. He missed playing, that much was certain.
Stepping towards and picking up a fancy-looking pair of cleats, he glanced at the price tag and was quickly reminded how expensive these things could get. Smiling to himself, he put them back, before grabbing a ball that looked to be of decent quality. It wasn't the cheapest one there, but it's price wasn't exorbitant either. Besides, he didn't want to skimp on this purchase, and he had the money at the moment.
It had been a long time since he had felt so satisfied while buying an item.
Late Morning | River Bank
It didn't take long for the boy to find himself an out-of-the-way, flat spot of grass right beside the river that ran through the town. The place was plenty peaceful, and even helped relax the recently constantly frayed Toma.
He soon tossed his jacket off, leaving it at the base of a nearby tree, and began kicking the ball around, attempting tricks he hadn't tried in a long time. A few of them took several tries to get right, but he was quickly able to consistently do everything he had been able to do before, much to his happiness. Soon enough, he found himself playing Keep Ups, and seeing how long he could keep the ball in the air without letting it hit the ground, using any part of his body other than his arms and hands.
How many hours had he spent in his life doing this exact thing? Toma wasn't sure, but he wouldn't be surprised if it was in the hundreds. He didn't even know what his record was -- he only knew that it was pretty good.
The game had always been sort of therapeutic for the boy, and it was especially so in this moment. It had been too long. His first attempt of the day had ended at a mere 11 touches, but each subsequent try brought that score up exponentially, until he stopped bothering with counting all together, never dropping it unless he meant to, to take a break or run around a little and try some dekes and tricks.
This was just about the perfect activity for him: it required enough concentration to keep his mind from drifting too far, but not enough to tire him out. And despite how boring it likely seemed to any outsiders, Toma easily lost himself in the game, allowing the time he so desperately wanted to kill to fly by.
