Being new to the area, you hadn't visited any of the nearby restaurants yet--with the week coming to a close, and your pay finally being handed over, you decided now was a better time than ever to eat something made outside of your own kitchen (usually your microwave) Stepping out into the chill of an October afternoon, you made your way into a quaint restaurant. It seemed dead, barely any people within its walls. Nice and quiet, it was just what you needed. You sat in the corner, all alone, and waited anxiously. Finally, a waiter approached you. His hair was messy, eyes tired and fingers tight against his apron as he greeted you, quiet and reluctant, but polite enough. He seemed unsure if he should even try to speak Japanese with you, before you assured you were fluent—at least enough to order and understand, and he immediately seemed relieved. In his tired tone, he introduced himself as Ichimatsu. Though he was withdrawn, you couldn’t help but find your waiter cute! After excusing himself to grab your drink request, you felt that you needed to know more about him.