You were walking through the streets of Nagasaki, Japan, the summer heat beating down on your head as you wandered about the market, looking for the rice your mother had sent you to buy. You weren't paying attention, and soon bumped into a boy about your age. He dropped his bag, and immediately bent down to pick it up. The boy was slightly taller than you, with black hair reaching about to his lower neck. He brushed his bangs out of his eyes and said quietly,

"My apologies."