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Jiraiya App VI
Third Person

Jiraiya cracked an eye open blearily, glaring slightly at his blinds which had somehow been knocked askance when he had toppled into bed this morning so that a strip of sunlight fell right across his face. Groaning a bit, he tried to roll over to go back to sleep, but his alarm clock was going off loudly, sounding like some loud, demonic mechanical monster. It felt like each beep was a spike into his brain, and he reached to hit sleep, his large hand knocking over a few things from his nightstand before finally feeling the cool plastic beneath his fingers and pressing the desired button.

Groggily he glanced at the time, sighing. Ten forty in the morning. Too early to be up. Far, far too early. He hefted himself up slowly, pulling his long hair away from his face as he yawned, itching at his bare chest. He hadn’t managed to get back in until four from his ‘research’, though for him that was pretty tame. Why, in Belize he had been lucky to stumble back to his hotel anytime before seven… But this wasn’t Belize and he could no longer sleep the day away and wake up at night. He thought he would have been fine with it, and most days he was, but mornings were a completely different story.

He hefted himself out of bed, stumbling towards his small kitchen to gulp down a few glasses of water, feeling a bit more like a functioning human being after splashing some cold water on his face. Though he had loved the life of a nomadic writer, going wherever he pleased and seeing women of all shapes and sizes and colors, he could admit that there was nothing really in it. There was no point, and now that he was aging, though not slowing down, he felt like he should settle down somewhere for a while. Check up on old friends, visit the graves of the people he’d left behind, and focus maybe on a more serious novel. While Flirting Paradise was fun, it wasn’t what he had set out to do as a writer, even if it paid all his bills. He didn’t even need the job at Feel Good Inc., or any job, and he could retire happily and live a life of luxury. He supposed all those rejections were worth something. Though that wasn’t for him. He liked to be moving, doing something, working towards a goal. And right now it seemed that goal was the repair the tattered relationships he’d left behind.

So, yawning a bit and searching around for the pair of clean clothes his cleaning lady left for him every morning, he steeled himself for another day of work. Repairing friendships, like getting used to a new sleeping schedule, needed work and should be taken one day at a time.