Yasuke Matsuda and Ryouko Otonashi drawn by Sasako Mitomo, artist for Killer Killer. SOURCE
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@basicallyabear-blog
Yasuke Matsuda and Ryouko Otonashi drawn by Sasako Mitomo, artist for Killer Killer. SOURCE
Itâs not breaking in if he LETS you in, right?
   He can feel his left eye begin to twitch. Just. Slightly. Thick, dark brows knit together in a sign frustration, teeth gritting before he is forced to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. Although this is a vain effort, the lack of color in his face is just as quickly replaced with a shade of red, growing agitation begins to read with more clarity with each passing second. He squints past the creature outside his window at some signs of life already stirring in his line of sightâ a light flickering on in a nearby house is as bright as daylight amidst the darkness outside of his room. He curses under his breath.
   â Youâve got to be fucking kidding me⊠â    No. Of course. Thatâs just like her. Of course she would decide that now is a good time to stop by and have a chat. Somehow he admits he should be grateful that she wasnât out there banging pots and pans togetherâ or better yet, holding up a boombox blasting cheesy, outdated love songs. Yes, there she is, the holder of the âFriend of the Millenniaâ award, in the flesh. He can feel the heavy, dark bags under his eyes weighing his eyelids down, and is suddenly incredibly aware of just how tired he is. This compels him to rub his eyes and groan. Everything about this situation is giving him a headache, which is just about all he could take before being forced to make the most unpleasant decision of his life. He must be some kind of saint for even considering putting up with this kind of garbage.    Looking down at the disgusting, greasy face pressed against his window, his expression clearly says that he is not at all pleased to be letting her inâ in fact, this is the kind of look where anyone else in the world with even a shred of common decency would begin to profusely apologize, and never speak to him again for the trouble they had caused. Regardless, after a few moments worth of scathing, soul-crushing eye contact with her, Matsuda finally decides to open the window. He ducks down to poke his head through the opening, gray eyes shooting daggers at the girl whose face is mere inches from his own.
    â âLISTEN. If I have to hear another word from that      freakishly fat mouth of yours, the next thing Iâm going to do is      find my can of RAID. The last thing I want to welcome into      my home is some horrible, overgrown parasite. â
   He mutters, exasperation clear in his tone. Had he been living with anyone else, the police would surely be dealing with this instead of him. But only in his wildest dreams would somebody finally take her away, never to be seen or heard from again. He takes a step back and sighs, eyes squeezing shut while he rubs his temples. This is the face of a broken man.Â
   â ⊠Great. Just GREAT. Yeah, itâs good to see you again, ugly.      Itâs always such a pleasant surprise to notice how youâve      decided to continue being an absolute MENACE to society.      If by some miracle I didnât happen to care about you, I would have      to reconsider not strangling you. PLEASE. Make yourself at home.      Come into my room, through my window, because only a savage      like you would do something like this. While youâre at it, try to track      as much mud as possible onto my carpet. I IMPLORE you. â
basicallyabear:
âR... R-Really? Youâll r-really let me in...? Y-Yasuke-kun would let someone as loud and self-destructive as me in...? For real...?â
Sheâs touched, dead heart warmed to its core... well, not really, actually. She knew heâd give in. He always does, because heâs pathetic little sap who canât help but care about her. She knows that...
And it makes her laugh, really, bent over with her amusement. Tonight would be fun, wouldnât it? âUpuppupupupupupu...â
âYasuke-kun must be too, too kind, amiriiiiiiiiite? Heâs got a weak spot for ugly girls who track mud on his carpet and awaken the entire neighborhood, yeah? He could never REALLY strangle me, could he?â
She climbs through his window without further delay, climbs through with a grin that means business. Luckily for him, she takes her heels off afterwards, so only a minimal amount of mud sinks into his carpet.Â
Once safely inside, she attempts to push Matsuda Yasuke right back out of the window, forceful palms digging into his shoulders as she uses every last ounce of her strength. If she had to get down to the absolute roots of WHY she decided to do this, itâs probably because he called her ugly.
Her.
Ugly.
Her? Ugly? No... No. He always does that. Something like that shouldnât hurt her by now, not one bit, not as much as the raid comment or the comment about her being a parasite or-- No, no. No. Her skin is thicker than this, isnât it? Regardless, he has to go. Right now.
âYouâre even heavier than you look, arenât you?! Matsuda Yasukeâs weight must all be in those oversized, disgusting feet of his! Upupupupu! How terrible for you to live with! Is that why you wear such awful footwear, too?! Are you trying to cover up your dirty little secret with something even dirtier?!?!?!â
Push. Push. Shove, push. This is her house now, buster. Leave.
shinkeii-gaku:
2:45 AM.
  Or so the blaring red letters on his bedside digital clock read. Itâs Tuesday. Or so he thinks. When you donât sleep for extended periods, you begin to easily lose track of things like thatâ and if one were to put it hyperbolically, it doesnât really make any difference. Holing yourself up in your room for weeks on end seems to have adverse effects on your understanding of time, and your perception of reality. Days blend together, and before you know it, a week has passed where you have done nothing but lay awake, wasting away with few distractions between staring at the underside of your bed. You are alone in the world with nothing but your own thoughts.
                              Plink⊠ Plink⊠ PlinkâŠÂ
   âŠÂ What was that? He has to wonder if that sound is coming from his window, and at first, he is perfectly content with letting go of his curiosity and ignoring the noise. That is, until he hears that familiar voice. The shrill scream filling the still night air thatâs muffled from beyond the walls of his room. He recognizes it almost immediately.
 â Oh no. Not her. Anything but HER. â
   If by some unlikely chance he were asleep, this would certainly seem like the beginning of his worst nightmare. One where a persistent banshee sent straight from the fiery depths of hell decided to come pay him a visit in the dead of night. No. Thinking of her a banshee would be a tragic understatement. This godawful pest is screaming her head off to the point where his neighbors must be just as aware of the fact that she is the living embodiment of a public nuisance as he is. And unfortunately, by association, he must be held responsible for her shitty behavior. Oh, but it gets worse. Then comes the banging.
 â No, no no no no. FUCK. Goddamn it. â    For a moment, he swears he can feel the color drain from his face, suddenly shaken from his former state and into one where unyielding irritation takes hold of his body. The dark-haired male, in all his rage, rips himself from beneath his bed and pulls the blinds up. And just as he dreaded, doing so reveals the very last thing he needed to see on a night like this. Despite his better judgement, he canât keep himself from raising his voice.
    â âOIIIIIII, SHUT UUUUUUP. â
âNo. I am afraid that shutting up is out of the question.â Sheâs so pleased with this outcome, with how absolutely pale heâs become, all for her, all <i>because</i> of her. That sort of despair... Sheâd love to let him know precisely how enthralling it is to watch, but alas, thereâs no way he could possibly hear her through the window glass without her screaming at the top of her lungs, potentially awakening the neighbors.
Thus, Enoshima Junko begins screaming at the top of her lungs, potentially awakening the neighbors.
âNow THATâS the SPIRIT, YASUKE-CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!! Open, open, OPEN UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!â She continues banging against his window, much to the boyâs dismay. She can see the anger and disdain in his eyes, burning like a flame, and she wants it, wants it, wants ALL of his irritation, so that his life is that much more miserable, that much more despairing. But... At the same time...
... Sheâd really like to hang out with him, and this isnât going to get her in. A change in tactic must be needed to achieve her goals.So, she clasps her palms together, presses her face up against the glass...
And attempts to look as adorable as possible, voice light, soft and illegible.
âUpupupupu... Câmooooon! Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase?â
Itâs not breaking in if he LETS you in, right?
... Sheâs been staring at his window for approximately half an hour, trying to ascertain whether or not this is actually worth it. On the one hand, thereâs a huge chance that he wonât even wake up.. but on the more optimistic hand, he might be awake to begin with. Matsuda Yasukeâs never been one for sleep, and sheâs never quite understood; without her precious beauty sleep, Junko finds herself rendered nonfunctional in every sense. She could sleep for days, but sometimes, sheâs certain that idiot doesnât even sleep for an HOUR before heading off to school.
Finally, she decides that even if heâs asleep, sheâll wake him up again, and again, and again. Because thereâs only one thing on her mind right now... and if anyone can provide her with her fix, a scratch to the perpetual itch that is her despair, itâs him. Him, and no one else.
She starts throwing pebbles at his window, one by one, whispering to herself, converse crunching against the grass as she moves in closer.
âYasuuuuukeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-chaaaaaaaaaaaaan! Upupupupu...â
âWAKE UP, JACKASS! Or Iâll have to do something EXTREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEME!!â
She bangs on the window with both of her fists. Bang, bang, bang, bang!
â... Hurry up. This is boring. This is boring, boring, boring, Yasuke. Yasuke-kun. Yasuke.â Bang, bang, bang...
Hey, some personal issues came up, but I exist again if youâd like to rp!
today i learned that google voice recognition is shit and that hagakure has wonderful manners taca taca
Teddy teddy Hannah Montana
As blue eyes carefully scan hastily sketched blueprints - because, sometimes, her mind travels far faster than her hand can keep up with - she canât help but wonder whether or not sheâs made a mistake. After all, who WOULDNâT expect a fire-breathing monobear? Itâs cliche. Itâs boring. Itâs trite and unoriginal and oddly bland in comparison to, say, the monobear that can literally teleport behind an unsuspecting civilian and snap their neck like a toothpick.
â... Toothpicks.â The word rolls off her tongue, echoing in the silence of her empty home. No one would ever hear her; no one was alive to hear her, not in this place, not for years.
There were two types of monobears that Junko favored; the first sort were models which were inescapable and thoroughly deadly, ones with demonic wings and the capability of laser vision; the second sort, however, were useless, ridiculous, and annoying, and in that moment - as she begins rapidly erasing sketch lines and heavily focusing detail into sharp, wooden claws - she figures that there is nothing more unexpected and despairingly useless than a monobear that launches toothpicks from itsâ claws and mouth.
Toothpicks. Theyâre irritating if one finds them stuck in, say, their foot, arm, hand, or other such areas required for mobility, obstructing oneâs flow. Toothpicks...are annoying, when used incorrectly. Toothpicks are tools with a single purpose; they are manipulated by their handler to remove stubborn food bits from the gums which encase them, and if there is one thing that no one would ever want, it would be - probably - a toothpick with a mind of its own.
And if there were ever one such toothpick gone awry - a tool run off to carry out its own wishes - it would be...her.
But Junko doesnât think of her anymore. She left years ago, and today - no different than yesterday, or the day before it, or the day before that, sheâs certain - Junko is alone, her tool run off to the beat of its own frustrating, despicable drum.
There is, however, one bright side to toothpicks, or at least, she thinks as such as she idly twirls around and around in her pastel pink bedroomâs office chair, a small smirk painting the edges of her lips: fragile and unpolished, they are easily snapped.
He was really worried when she started crying..! Like WHOA ok thatâs rather concerning. But he realized it was just a rouse to make him feel bad and apologize to her. Is everything she does a ploy to make others feel crappy? It seems like it. He makes an uhh and takes a step back from her once she started crying, and another step when she had become calm.
âWell⊠Of course I know who you are. I donât live under a rock.â He says, holding his knightâs weapon [aka the mop] over his chest. Why is she yelling at him. This is uncalled for. âI just wanted you to introduce yourself. Give you the chance to talk without the notoriety.â A chance to be normal.
{ But theyâre anything but normal. Theyâre someone out of this world, past their talent. I think, this is actually a really good experience, meeting them here. Iâm certainly not bored anymore. Theyâre.. Kinda fun to talk to. }
â... Huh?â She...gives him a look.
âLife without notoriety...isnât something like that horribly, disgustingly boring? Are you telling me that youâd want that?â Thereâs a small, hardly audible laugh in her chest as she contemplates the idea of everything sheâs ever worked for - every last fragment and scrap of her fame - dissipating into oblivion. âNo...I think Iâd rather die than be without that, but thank you for your consideration.â
Her voice rises in pitch, booming.
âWHAT ABOUT YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU? Do YOU wanna be famous, Hinata-kun?! DO IT FOR THE TEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!! OR SOMETHING!â
The Beginning of the End [1zuru and Basicallyabear]
Izuru stopped at her hand. Red nails dug slightly into the fabric of his jacket and he let his eyes roll towards the heaven. He grit back a threat as he glanced at her over his shoulder. âEnoshima-san, was it?â
âWhether you intended for that to be an attempt at⊠hitting on me, or not, I would really rather decline the offer.â He said. âYour presence is irritating, your personality is annoying, and I would rather work in silence. Something that you seem entirely incapable of, based off this conversation.â
He pulled his shoulder from her grip and attempted to enter the science building once again.
âLo! The Long Haired Peasant doth protest too much!â Flipping her ponytails over her shoulders with a dramatic flair as she places her now-disengaged hands lightly on her hips, she flashes him an over-confident smile. âWhile we are not even remotely aware of what thy name is, good sir, it is our obligation to inform you that our sort - irritation or none - is most capable of performing rigorous tasks!â
Slipping a pair of studious frames onto her nose, she continues, voice taking on a less booming and more nonchalant tone.
âScience, after all, is an art form in and of itself, if you think of it critically. Art is creation, and science is a test of those creations. As my primary line of work may be considered as an art, I can assure you that my handling of them is far from sub par. Thus...â
âLet me help you, dummy. Thereâs no way you seriously want to be left all alone in there. What if thereâs an impromptu fire, and you burn to death with no assistance?â
The Beginning of the End [1zuru and Basicallyabear]
The issue - or perhaps the facilitator of conversation at hand - is that once she gets talking, she struggles to stop. Unfortunately for the individual in front of her, that essentially meant that the situation didnât really contain much of an exit.
âGiven that I held the solution directly in front of your gaze and you still failed to ascertain it, I must say that I am highly disappointed. My question - irrelevant as you may proclaim it to be - is highly necessary for the progression of this conversation.â
âSo, liiiiiiiiiiikeâŠdid you guess it yet? Itâs easy, amirite?â
⊠Her shoulders slump. âAnyway⊠You should tell me why youâre in front of the science labs. Everyone else is leaving the school for break, but youâre still here. Are you going to blow something upâŠ? I wish I could blow something up⊠SighâŠâ
âIâve already discerned that you were referring to your nails. I was implying that your question was broad and uninteresting, and a terrible opening to conversation.â He told her.
She seemed vaguely familiar, if Izuru were being honest with himself. Her face was⊠painfully boring in itâs prettiness. The kind of face many would find themselves fawning over. Worshiping to the point of obsession, in some cases. But it was such a standard form of attractivenessâŠ
âI was going to find something to do. I was bored. I still am, actually. If that was all you needed from me, Iâll be taking my leave.â
âI see.â Her shoulders droop even further, a soundless sigh at her lips. âSo, this is what rejection feels like. I get it, I get it. The great Enoshima Junko-chan somehow isnât cool enough to match the awesomeness that is your overabundance of hair. And here I was trying so hard...â
Still, she picks herself up regardless, flashing him her brightest grin as he tries to waltz off, gently gripping him by the shoulders, though...really, sheâs tempted to grab his hair instead. âWait, wait, wait! Wait? Wait! Why canât we find something to do... TOGETHER? Itâll be despairingly AWESOME, donât you think?! Weâll... Weâll do... Stuff! Things! Things and stuff! Itâll be fucking AMAZING!â
âOr maybe youâre the one whoâs not too bright and uses philosophical talk to make everyone feel like you are.â He puts a hand on his hip because he isnât ready to be sassed to this extent. What kind of a girl insults someone just after they met. He notices she switches through personalities. Itâs uh. Endearing?
âIâm not being paid to do this Iâm simply doing volunteer work for extra credits. Besides.. What do you know about jobs, anyways.â He gives her a look. { they doesnât look like the type who does any sort of helpful activity, but looks can be deceiving. }
She seems like a handful, and he wonders if the reason why she was so bummed out is because she had no one to talk with after class. He kind of.. Feels bad for her? âMy name isnât Grimy ears Mcgee. Itâs Hajime Hinata.â
âY...Y-You donât think Iâm b-bright...?!â Her tone is one of shock, heartbreak, and indignation as it rises and splinters at the edges. Rather than making some sort of comeback or sharp retort, she...
âWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!â
...bursts into tears?
Trailing down her cheeks on their journey to soak her own shirt, they fall without grace. Is... Is she seriously upset?
âI-IâM SO OFFENDED!â
â... Is what I would say if I actually cared for your opinion. Too bad I donât, right?â Her face - just as quickly as it contorted with mock sadness - is now entirely expressionless, though the tears still eerily stain her face.Â
âAs for joooooobs...! I know way, way, WAY more than you think! Loads more! Tons! Copious amounts! Donât you know who I am?â Flashing him an award-winning smile and a peace sign, she gives him an expectant look. âCome on, Hinata-kun! Spit it out! I KNOW youâve seen me on magazines and billboards and television ads and EVERYTHING EVER, right?â
â... Unless you live under a rock, of course!â
The Beginning of the End [1zuru and Basicallyabear]
Izuru watched her blankly. He was obviously unamused by her antics, though he didnât bother leaning away from her hand. Red eyes trailed from the wiggling appendages to her face, and he sighed. It would have been easier if she had needed something of him. Conversations were entirely out of his area of experience.Â
âI could not begin to list the amount of things that match my eyes. Even if I were limited to my direct line of sight, it would take me far too long. Unless you are colorblind, your question is irrelevant, as you can discern such things on your own.â He intoned.Â
The issue - or perhaps the facilitator of conversation at hand - is that once she gets talking, she struggles to stop. Unfortunately for the individual in front of her, that essentially meant that the situation didnât really contain much of an exit.
âGiven that I held the solution directly in front of your gaze and you still failed to ascertain it, I must say that I am highly disappointed. My question - irrelevant as you may proclaim it to be - is highly necessary for the progression of this conversation.â
âSo, liiiiiiiiiiike...did you guess it yet? Itâs easy, amirite?â
. . . Her shoulders slump. âAnyway... You should tell me why youâre in front of the science labs. Everyone else is leaving the school for break, but youâre still here. Are you going to blow something up...? I wish I could blow something up... Sigh...â
âI meant physically dead.â He says a bit irritated with her going on this really long tangent about the death of oneself emotionally and all that royal speak. He wants to explain that, he was just glad to hear that the large thump he heard was not her body collapsing and falling to the ground dead, and something he didnât have to deal with. But then she started ranting. Which is uh, not really a bad thing because sheâs saying some deep stuff.
{ Theyâre certainly a few screws loose, but at the same time I have no one to talk to. M-maybe I shouldnât be talking with someone like this. I donât see much harm in it though. }
When she gets closer to him he shrinks a bit, because sheâs so confident and he is a mess. âNo Iâm fine.â He tries to form a biting argument to her âwell you could be emotionally dead because of a chore youâre doing.â He follows her into the hall and closes the classroom door behind him.
Introductions are probably in order but he cannot get the nerve to introduce himself when sheâs just insulted his mop. âThe mop isnât stupid. Itâs cleaner then the both of us.â { You take that back about my mop. }
âAwwwwwwww? Just physically dead? How beary boring of you! To think that you canât even humor a teensy weensy philosophical concept. Guess you arenât that bright after all! And here I had hopes higher than the Himalayas for your intelligence!â
With a tiny, haughty huff, she turns on her heel, facing him as he exits through the door. âAre you... A-Are you calling me d-dirty...?â If the mop is cleaner than both of them...
âI...I-Iâll have you know I bathe t-three times a day, b-baka! So... So shut up! S-Speak for yourself a-and your d-disgusting mop, G-Grimy Ears McGee!â
Sheâs staring at that mop, though, gaze curious. âW...W-Why the fuck are you MOPPING, a-anyway? T-Thatâs not even your job!â
The Beginning of the End [1zuru and Basicallyabear]
Izuru didnât react at first. The heat was becoming unbearable beneath his suit, and he could think only of the boredom settled heavy over his mind like a fog. He had yet to decide what he would be doing in the science building, but hopefully something mildly interesting would present itself. If all else failed he could simply take apart the buildingâs AC unit.
He continued walking as the gyaru spoke to him. It wasnât until she began shrieking that he bothered to glance at her.Â
â⊠Were you speaking to me?â It wasnât common that another student called upon him for conversation. Perhaps that was why he responded? She certainly seemed as boring as the next teenage girl. Even her choice in attire was painfully predictable within her own fashion genre. He found himself growing bored of the conversation before she even replied.Â
â... Duh? Who the fuck else would I be speaking to? Asking a question like that is like asking if trees are made of wood! Upupupupu.â Shifting her weight into a more relaxed posture, she tilts her head, nonchalantly cracking her neck as her gaze settles directly on his eyes. His eyes are... red?
Lips quirking up into a playful grin, she flashes him a peace sign, pointedly showing off bright red tips.
âHey! Hey! Hey? Hey! Hey?! Hey!â Twirls around inexplicably, prancing forward until sheâs directly within his range of sight before wiggling her fingers - which smell faintly of cherries and lotion - in front of his nose. âGuess what! Guess what your eyes match! Go on, guess! Guess! Now!â Unlike Izuru, she was far from bored at this point.
Another person who finds his hairstyle disagreeable. Itâs noticeably something everyone trying to get on his nerves gets a crack at. As if there was only the one flaw in his personal design. He phases the comment out however because he doesnât believe itâs that bad and focuses more on the important part of what she says. âYouâre not dead so I guess everything looks okay.â He shrugs, mop still in hand.
Good thing he also couldnât hear her murmuring, because mumblers donât make much sense to those listening in. And heâs kind of not really listening. Heâs half assing it. Normally he would eavesdrop to the fullest extent but here he is, giving half his all. âYou look bored.â Nice observation, Ace Dick. âIâm bored too, but I have responsibilities. Iâm actually in the middle of mopping, do you want to come out to the hall and uh. Talk?â
Of course sheâs bored, so at that much, she says absolutely nothing, but with regard to his first remark...she stares for awhile, numb.
âOhhhhhhhhhhh?â Her head tilts to the side as she rises from her desk, a smirk crossing her expression. âIâm not dead? And just how can you gauge that?â
âI could be dead on the inside, yeah? Death is a relative experience, amiriiiiiiiite?â
"Thou doust forget that there is far more to death than that of the physical sort, human peasant! We, as the crowning ruler of this nation, doth propose henceforth that all individuals possess the ability to be emotionally dead!â
Taking measured steps toward him with perfect posture, she crosses her arms, raising a challenging brow.
â...Do you disagree? Look at you, after all, doing something as mind numbing and draining as physical labor. Wouldnât you say that you, too, are capable of being emotionally dead from such a chore? Or...perhaps from something else?â
After a few beats of awkward silence, she just...snorts, waving a dismissive hand as she heads for the classroomâs exit and toward the hall. âSure, sure! Letâs talk! Come on; before I change my mind and leave you with no one but your stupid mop! Upupupupu!â
Her odd laugh practically bounces off the walls, but whatâs even more odd than that is - probably - the girl herself.
The Beginning of the End [1zuru and Basicallyabear]
The weather was beautiful. The sun was shining brightly, delicate rays falling across the Academy campus. The trees swayed gently in the breeze. The air was filled with gentle chatter from students and staff alike, and the scent of the impending summer.Â
Not that Izuru much cared for summer or good weather. He would be spending his time on campus in solitude, as he spent most of the school year. His fellow students would be returning home for the break. But not him. There wasnât a home to return to- he couldnât recall ever having a home, apart from Hopeâs Peak. The idea of one seemed stereotypical and dull, if he were to be honest.
His trek across campus to the science building was uninterrupted thus far. Perhaps it was the aura of intense disinterest that seemed to hover over him like a rain cloud on the otherwise beautiful day.
Itâs warm. So warm, in fact, that all the gyaru could think of is the fact that she is entirely thankful that the majority of her wardrobe is devoid of longer pants and skirts; her mini is her only savior in this sweltering heat, and - beautiful as it may be - all of this humidity is making her crave ice cream and a goddamned nap; nothing, after all, is more despair inducing than a bad hair day, and she swears that all the products in the world wonât save her if it gets even remotely hotter outside.Â
Every breeze, too, saves her, and as she stops underneath the shade of the science building, basking in it, she notices...someone else...that may also be having a bad hair day pretty soon, though their lack of wave to their locks may make matters far easier.
âWhatâs that...?â Gesturing to the hair on his head with a mildly impressed tone, she tilts her head to the side. âAre you trying to outdo me? I have the longest hair on campus, you know...â
Curling into irate fists, her hands angrily ball up at her sides, permeating her previously relaxed state.
âOr at least, I DID, until SOMEONE fucking came along and RUINED MY GODDAMNED RECORD!â
What was that THUNK?!
Hinata was left on cleaning duty after class, well left as in, volunteered. Hinata volunteered to clean the school after class. He didnât want to head back to the other department and he didnât want to go home so he said âhey yeah Iâll tidy a buildingâ. And during moping the floor he heard a noise. So he decides to check it out and he peeks through the window. Oh man is that a classmate? What the heck why are they still at school?
He decides to talk to them. He opens the door and calls out to them. âIs everything okay in here?â not knowing that no, nothing is okay because everything is so plain and boring.
Slowly but surely, she raises her head off the desk, lips quivering into a pathetic, depressing frown as she looks the boy over, eyes wandering up and down once...twice...and then again, one last time.
âDoes everything look okay...? Why would you ask such a pointless, despair-inducing, tactless question? Sigh... Not that I could expect anything more from someone who has an ahoge so sharp they could use it as a shank...â Her head uselessly hits her desk with another thunk, though itâs more of a thump this time. Ignoring the other boyâs dutiful mopping, she murmurs, almost to herself.
âItâs awful. Itâs horrible. Itâs despairingly unacceptable, because... Iâm so bored that I could stab a thousand men in the throat before dumping their corpses in the nearest incinerator...â