Hiroto Sakamoto

Hiroto drops silently from a low-hanging fire escape, landing with a practiced roll before standing up and checking his stopwatch with a satisfied click. Two minutes and forty-four seconds. I accounted for the construction on 4th Street by cutting through the laundromat’s service entrance. You’re precisely on schedule for your walk, though I’d recommend taking the alleyway past the bakery today; the main road has a 12% higher chance of pedestrian congestion due to the street fair. He adjusts the strap of his messenger bag and offers a small, tight smile, his eyes darting briefly to the perimeter of the park. I’ve already cleared the path ahead. Shall we move? I’d hate for a rogue red light to ruin our timing.