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It was a warm Monday afternoon. Streets were crowded, people were in half-run, half-walk as they tried not to be late for their appointments. Mothers were with their children, bringing them out to play, and pet lovers walked their pets, couples lined the streets, and friends just hang out simply to enjoy the day. Everyone had their own businesses to attend to, and so did twenty four years old Daichi Hiroto. Sipping on a can of soda, the former Gryffindor tried to shield his eyes from the sun as he flipped the newspaper to the job ad page. It was a work day, and usually, at this time of the day, he would already be on the Romanian pub where he was working, attending to customers when he was not needed in the kitchen. The pay was low compared to what his twin brother earns, but he didn't mind it. He didn't plan of being a dishwasher/waiter/bartender forever anyway, he would be a famous quidditch player and participate in all those big leagues. Fans would scream his name and his photos would appear in all those souvenir items. He would be the talk of the town. His friends would celebrate his victory, and his story would grace the newspaper. He would be a quidditch player. He believed he could be one, that is, of course, once he actually passed the try outs. He had been to a lot of quidditch try outs before, but unfortunately (though he viewed it as just a temporary delay) he was yet to make the cut. That's why even though he rather train and have fun with his 'future' teammates, he was still working in a pub. No. He was no longer working in a pub, for to his frustration, he had been fired. That he could not accept. It was not his fault, totally not his fault. That stupid customer made a rude remark about his favorite sport, quidditch, and of course, as a quidditch fanatic, he gave the man a piece of his mind. Alright, maybe it was his fault. But he couldn't just keep his mouth shut when his beloved sport was being belittled. It was worth it. He could always find another job.
Daichi stifled a sigh. The newspaper job ad page was already filled with circles. How many establishments had he been to? He couldn't even remember. He even tried applying to muggle operated establishments, but to his disappointment, his disability had been a huge factor as to why he kept being turned down. He was partially blind, but for Merlin's sake, he could still see! Maybe his eyesight wasn't as good as other people, but he could still function normally. If they weren't going to accept a partially blind person, then they should have written it expressly on their ads: Wanted: waiter with two working eyes, one nose, one mouth, two hands, and two legs, then perhaps he wouldn't have wasted money and time knocking on their doors to apply.
The twenty four years old took one last sip from the can and toss it to the nearby trashcan like how a chaser would, however, it hit the brim and the can fell to the ground. Groaning, he picked it up and placed it the trashcan before flipping open the newspaper again. He had one last stop before he had to get home. He was yet to tell his twin about this recent development in his life. He had been living in his twin's house, with the latter paying for all their expenses. After all, his twin had a decent and stable job, he on the other hand, didn't. But he made up for it by doing all the household works and working on those pubs no matter how small the pay was. He couldn't possibly tell his twin that he lost his job again, he had to look for a new one before he could talk to him.
Daichi rolled the newspaper and stuck it on his back pocket, running his fingers through his thick black hair in an attempt to smooth it down to look presentable. This would be his last chance this day. He had to finish his 'Find Daichi a decent job mission', a stupid but fitting title for what he was doing this day. He started to walk and the cool air washed over him and assuaged the heat that clung to his skin. He had the address of the restaurant memorized. He wouldn't get lost, and after a few minutes of walking, he finally found himself facing a tall structure, his eyes, (or eye) warily trained on the wooden doors as he ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit he had. He unnecessarily braced himself before he forged forward. This was it. He had to get this job. The door opened with a silent swish and he slowly entered the building. "Good After-Ah!," the exclamation barely escaped his mouth before he landed hard on his backside, cutting off any longer cry. Upon raising his head, he discovered that he crashed into a person, he stared for a moment, as if processing everything that happened. Different emotions flashed on his face, first confused, startled, then mortified, and out of reflex, he scrambled to his knees in an attempt to get up. "Hey I'm sorry, Are you hurt?" Hopefully, this person wasn't the owner of this restaurant or he was doomed.
<SIZE size="50"><FONT font="Verdana"> Daichi stifled a sigh. The newspaper job ad page was already filled with circles. How many establishments had he been to? He couldn't even remember. He even tried applying to muggle operated establishments, but to his disappointment, his disability had been a huge factor as to why he kept being turned down. He was partially blind, but for Merlin's sake, he could still see! Maybe his eyesight wasn't as good as other people, but he could still function normally. If they weren't going to accept a partially blind person, then they should have written it expressly on their ads: Wanted: waiter with two working eyes, one nose, one mouth, two hands, and two legs, then perhaps he wouldn't have wasted money and time knocking on their doors to apply.
The twenty four years old took one last sip from the can and toss it to the nearby trashcan like how a chaser would, however, it hit the brim and the can fell to the ground. Groaning, he picked it up and placed it the trashcan before flipping open the newspaper again. He had one last stop before he had to get home. He was yet to tell his twin about this recent development in his life. He had been living in his twin's house, with the latter paying for all their expenses. After all, his twin had a decent and stable job, he on the other hand, didn't. But he made up for it by doing all the household works and working on those pubs no matter how small the pay was. He couldn't possibly tell his twin that he lost his job again, he had to look for a new one before he could talk to him.
Daichi rolled the newspaper and stuck it on his back pocket, running his fingers through his thick black hair in an attempt to smooth it down to look presentable. This would be his last chance this day. He had to finish his 'Find Daichi a decent job mission', a stupid but fitting title for what he was doing this day. He started to walk and the cool air washed over him and assuaged the heat that clung to his skin. He had the address of the restaurant memorized. He wouldn't get lost, and after a few minutes of walking, he finally found himself facing a tall structure, his eyes, (or eye) warily trained on the wooden doors as he ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit he had. He unnecessarily braced himself before he forged forward. This was it. He had to get this job. The door opened with a silent swish and he slowly entered the building. "Good After-Ah!," the exclamation barely escaped his mouth before he landed hard on his backside, cutting off any longer cry. Upon raising his head, he discovered that he crashed into a person, he stared for a moment, as if processing everything that happened. Different emotions flashed on his face, first confused, startled, then mortified, and out of reflex, he scrambled to his knees in an attempt to get up. "Hey I'm sorry, Are you hurt?" Hopefully, this person wasn't the owner of this restaurant or he was doomed.