#1|week one

When Mashirao decided to use the upswing of his tail to propel him onto a tree branch of sufficient altitude, he had only really been hoping to gain a platform for a better view of the unfamiliar territory-- 

His intentions were absolutely not to disrupt somebody else who might have already taken presence in that general area.

Mashirao hadn’t felt so at a loss in a very long time. Even when things seemed to be taking a dip for the worst back home-- he’d at least understood the gist of what needed to be done in order to get things right again!

But here... Here...?

Here he couldn’t even make sense of Sector 001.

“This... restaurant... couldn’t... have... been... here... before...”

The nature of the day had made it appear so natural that even he, Ojiro Mashirao, did not initially notice anything out of place in his strolling, but--

Hadn’t he been swinging his tail around a bit TOO much like a jump rope for no one to have jumped in by now?!

He wasn’t sure when he had picked up the habit, but the end of Mashirao’s tail dusted off the dirt off of his clothes as he waited for the next train to pull up, idly rocking back on his heels. It was nice to see that this place used something of a familiar transportation system, but having to rack the layout of every location into his mind for safety purposes-- he hadn’t expected this much work to come so soon.

The whistle of an incoming train screeched in the distance, and Mashirao’s tail ceased in its unorthodox cleaning--

Which was about when Mashirao realized he’d been dusting off someone’s shoulder with his tail, nonchalantly thinking it’d been a sign. “... A-- a bug! There was...!”

Oh, no. Oh, no-no-no. This had happened before, and he couldn’t believe he’d been so careless as to allow it to happen again. In fact, was it this very gate that had slammed shut on his tail and trapped him as he was now before, stopping him in his tracks and sending a chill up his spine?

Wriggling his tail muscles, Mashirao refused to look back, stretching his leg out as far as possible to take a reeeeally wide step and-- and--...!

To no avail. He was stuck. Locked into a gate. By the tail.

He’s half ashamed, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone else around besides this Pro Hero-looking guy, and Mashirao is sure he’s dragged his tail around at least three circles of varying circumference around the way.

With only a Pro Hero internship of a laughable time period to account for job experience, was there really hope for him finding work in such a big city? And with people to compete against from who knew what kinds of places…

Mashirao stacked another plastic bottle onto the pile accumulating in his arms, careful to lead the flick of his tail away from the precious items-- two and a half spills later, care and caution had become his favorite words, but watching the sidewalk was becoming admittedly more difficult. Still, if he wanted to provide himself with some kind of income to cushion him over until he could find an actual job, he’d have to find as many recyclables as possible!

… In retrospect, finding something to carry them all in would have been the ideal first step, but waddling around like this wasn’t SO bad, and--

And he smacked right into someone, sending his gathered bottles twisting free and flying from his grip.