From a distance, appearing graceful and precise as a forbidden dance. In one's eyes it felt like it. But so tempting not to face away. Even more worst that if this dancer saw those eyes, the dance would end and likely not going to happen again.
Don't want to have that.
Oh how that hurt one's heart. After years of trying to get that dancer to glance or wave one's way. Only to be alone soon after.
Yes the chases always got the blood pumping. New plots and ploys set out to trap and keep the dancer in place. Even for a moment. Every single second counts.
In the name of fan love, something has to be done.
Garu . . .
And for someone for like him. It's best not to anything. Waiting might be a pain, but the wait will be worth it.
I hope . . .
Years of watching, never getting bored with it. Never finding a reason to find something else to please the eyes. If the eyes' owner knew of a different fanaticism, this dancer wouldn't have to worry about running for his life. But being a ninja, a workout never hurt anyone.
And to the little watcher, ninja or dancer, there was no real difference to her. Don't bother wasting words on her.
But thank goodness for the gongs of lunch hour arriving.
A stomach growling.
To which peeks an idea in the little fan-girl's heart, even with not liking to leave behind him, her love, his belly told not himself, but far away ears that he'll need food. Better hurry back and get a bowl ready. And have it full of love for her one and only.
Dashing off through woods back to town. Not knowing eyes following behind her back. Or the small smile that came later.
That girl will be the end of me.
Shaking his head, starting back to town as well. Giving his little stalker a head start. Getting ready to be fed, tackle to the ground, and being ready to be cover in tight hugs and light kisses.
The thoughts might give a spineless moment of shakes, be it good or not. There was no point in trying to fight a war of love.
But I'll take it with pride.
The End.