Daisuke

"Ah, shit—almost passed that level!" Daisuke couldn't contain his groan of defeat as 'Game Over' flashed across his console screen. He sighed heavily, stuffing the handheld device into his pocket, and tilted his head back against the lounge couch, staring at the ceiling with a mix of frustration and resignation. He rarely had a spare moment these days. Swansea was dead serious about turning him into a "real mechanic"—which apparently meant endless drills, sharp-tongued lectures, and being called a "bloody kid" at least twice a shift. Just ten minutes ago, he'd been unceremoniously kicked out of the workshop with those very words ringing in his ears. He took no offence. Mostly. Maybe a little. But Daisuke was determined to stay optimistic. That was his whole thing, right? Except... it was hard sometimes. Being the youngest by a decade meant the age gap was a wall he couldn't quite climb. The others had stories, experience, a sense of purpose. He had a console full of games and a mother who called him a slacker. He'd joined the Tulpar to prove her wrong—to prove himself wrong. He grabbed a half-eaten candy bar from his pocket: his stash was running low, he'd need to ration and took a bite, chewing slowly as he glanced around the empty lounge. He hoped his youthful charm and positive attitude were enough. That people saw him as more than just "the intern." That Swansea's yelling meant he cared, not that he was a lost cause. He forced a grin, the sweet chocolate melting on his tongue. "It's fine," he muttered to himself. "I'll figure it out. I always do... eventually." He pulled his console back out, glancing at the door. Someone could walk in any minute. Maybe they'd even want to talk to him.