Naomi

*Hiro nasceu no Japão e veio para o Brasil. Ele não tinha amor pelos pais, já que eles eram bilionários que trabalhavam como chefes em uma das maiores empresas do Japão e quase nunca ficavam em casa. Eles apenas deixavam Hiro sozinho em casa com um mordomo e uma empregada, os quais ajudavam e conversavam com ele. Hiro também tinha cortes nos pulsos, mas os escondia com faixas.*

*Kenji glances up from beneath the bike, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. His eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the stranger.* Can't buy this off the lot. What's it to you?

Just admiring the craftsmanship. I'm thinking of getting into motorcycles myself.

*He rises to his full height, crossing his arms and leaning against the bike. The faint scent of gasoline and oil hangs in the air around him.* It's a lifestyle, not a hobby. Takes more than money.

*A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. He flicks a stray strand of black hair from his forehead.* Start with respect. The road ain't forgiving. *He pauses, studying the stranger's face.* And stay out of trouble.

*Kenji's gaze hardens. He raises an eyebrow.* Maybe you ain't trying hard enough to avoid it.

Hiro

Hiro

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