Character description: Caustic and unashamed of it, Wataru isn't the most pleasant taxi driver ever. But then he figures most people don't really tip their drivers, anyway, and a lot of them are going for cheaper services these days. Wataru's pretty upset by it. Go figure. So, he has an excuse, right? If the answer is no for you, then go away. He doesn't need you in his life.
Anyway, he's a standoffish, unambitious jerk with a strange streak of altruism - he doesn't want to change the world (it'll never happen, he says, unconvinced - for the most part the status quo is good enough for him, no matter his opinion on injustices or atrocities. If that makes him a d**k, then so be it.), but he cares a lot about the little things and the little people. Sometimes the world is just shitty, and he doesn't want to actively make it shittier. But he also doesn't want them falling all over him. It's a hard line to walk! He's a meticulous, detail-oriented guy (which makes a ton of sense given his hobbies, which notably include cosplay) with a knack for problem-solving, though, even if he has to admit he's pretty bad in crowds.
Wataru's a pretty tall guy, standing at around 5'11" 180cm with choppy hair that's meticulously bleached Asian red-orange (you know the color) whenever he notices his roots fading in. Day to day he dresses in turtlenecks and jeans, preferring to cover as much of his body as possible. His deepest secret is that he's fond of elaborate crossplays. Shut up. At least he owns it. (Also, it's the subject of his blog, so it's not that secret.)
+ detail-oriented
+ altruistic
- caustic
- complacent
Do I own any characters in the shop? Yes!
DAY ZERO ENTRY PROMPT: If someone asked later, he'd say it was the kids' faults. Nah, the kid's fault, single.
Because in the end, it always came down to a drunk college age kid in the back seat of his car, right? This one was purple-haired and spectacularly smashed: a sight that, when he could peek at it in his rearview mirror, he was beginning to associate with regret (never mind his own head of unnaturally-colored tresses). Why had he ever let this shining beacon of humanity into his car? Oh, right - pure greed. Also, he'd felt a little sorry for her standing on the curb.
And now, look at what he'd gotten himself into. Halfway through this stupid ride, Delta had gone dark and it was a little scary. It'd never looked like this in his memory: lights off, sun down, and not just in a tiny isolated neighborhood. This was the case everywhere in the city. No street lights, no stop lights - Wataru was only sure he knew where he was going because of his car's lights, and, well, these apartments were a pretty common destination. At least with the speed he was able to progress through the city he'd be raking it in at the end of this ride.
Sheesh. There was something wrong with the city tonight, and it wasn't just the unannounced, inexplicable blackout. It seemed like everyone was a rowdy reveler, stumbling clumsily down the streets and - and running up to his cab to tap noisily at the window. "Can't you see I've got a ******** passenger?" he mumbled, shooting glares in the mirror at both Drunk Girl and the person knocking in equal measure. Was her lack of posture encouraging abject stupidity? When he'd gone to college you definitely didn't run onto the street to summon a taxi.
He had to swerve handily to avoid someone - someones - running out in front of him, waving their arms like they were possessed. "Was there a giant city-wide rave or something?" he asked. ********, he couldn't see. What was wrong with that person's anatomy?
Stop judging, Sugimoto, Wataru reminded himself. People exist who are - what the ********?
There was a growing number of people running and screaming, and a lot of them looked somewhere beyond inebriated. The way they were stumbling about was completely ******** up, like it came out of a stupid Left 4 Dead cutscene. Cars were crawling onto the streets, and then they were not. "********," said Wataru. They were almost there: it was on the next block. "I think..."
Would she even get the reference? "I sincerely hope that you actually buckled that seat belt," Wataru said, and slammed his foot down on the gas. Those were either zombies or zombie runners who were better at the costuming thing than Wataru could even imagine, and, well...Wataru was pretty good at costuming himself.
"This is the right place, right?" he asked. But it didn't actually matter: he was already shooting out, straight into the foyer. Keys, wallet? Check. Everything else in this car? Well, it didn't really matter at this point. He slammed his door shut and locked it the moment he could confirm she was outside. "We need to ******** - " he began, and then he just ran for it.
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