There was a mark on the wall, a deep green, perfectly round dent that scarred the smooth face of the cement. A tennis ball chipped away at the surface, digging into the mark, one hit at a time.
Sweat was dripping down Kirihara's face and running into his eyes. The burning sensation made him twitch, but if he caved into the pressure to blink, he would lose track of the ball, so he let his eyes burn. Pain was a small price to pay for success.
He swung his racket over and over again, relishing the ring that the racket strings made when they came into contact with the ball. He knew whether the fuzzy green ball would crash into the mark or fly somewhere else the instance the ball met his racket; he could feel the connection vibrate in the tips of his fingers. Every shot hits its mark. Simple rallies were too easy for someone of Kirihara's skill.
He tossed the ball into the sky and smashed it towards the wall as it came down. The strings flexed under the pressure, but sent the ball on course towards the dent. The ball ricocheted off the wall but the racket couldn't match it's speed and the ball skipped by untouched.
Kirihara set up another rally. Things couldn't end that way. Missing the return to his own serve was pathetic. Things couldn't end that way, so he smashed the ball again. When it bounced back, Kirihara dashed sideways to outrace it. This time, the racket caught the ball, making the strings tense under the weight of the force.
Snap.
(Author's Note: Um, well, this is the first part to a triptych that I had to write for my English final and I just made it a PoT fic because I could. XD Kirihara gets pwnd by the wall. Concrit is love, so please drop some off if you feel like it as my action writing must fail a lot. -_-")
Disclaimer: Don't own PoT =\