Mashiro, the Watcher
How do the Vizards spend their afternoons? Mashiro can tell you. She watches.
Generally, afternoons are slow and quiet and everyone keeps to themselves. Ocassionally, one will hear the flipping of a page, someone clearing their throat, or a series of out of tune twangs from Rose's guitar. But the air feels so still that none of the sound should carry.
Now on this particular afternoon, really not extraordinary by any means, Mashiro was sitting cross-legged, back straight, lips pursed, and eyes wide; watching, like she did every afternoon. She didn't have a particular hobby like everyone else (unless you include pouting), and even she knew not to disrupt the silence, so she would wait for later to talk. For now, she watched.
Earlier in the afternoon, Kensei had excused himself and slinked away, behind a faraway rock. He's probably jacking off again, she thought. (Once, Mashiro had asked Lisa about what Kensei did by himself, and that is what Lisa replied. To this day, Mashiro had no idea what it meant.)
Lisa, was reading, as usual. Mashiro had asked before if she could read too. Lisa had said she owned nothing that would interest her. After this, Mashiro had never asked again, as if that were a perfectly satisfying answer. Love was reading as well, and Rose was tuning his guitar… for the fifth time that afternoon.
Hachi was practicing kido techniques. Actually, Hachi was the only one who ever did any real work in the afternoons.
Hiyori was… well, actually, Hiyori didn't really do anything during the afternoons either. Often, she stared at her feet and played with her sandals. Today, she lay on her stomach, picking at the ground.
Shinji, sat at the highest vantage point (he liked to feel important) with his eyes in shadow and a slight grin on his face. Mashiro could tell that he was thinking or watching too, but she had yet to figure out what about. Shinji was someone hard to figure out. Hiyori too. They're good for each other, she thought.
…Am I good for Kensei?
Hiyori grumbled, sat up, and ordered someone to cook supper. Kensei returned and the rest of the Vizards all fell into happy chatter.
One hundred years of watching… watching and waiting, and you end up knowing a lot about people. Like the way Kensei ruffled his hair when he didn't know what to do with his hands, or the way Lisa pushed up her glasses with just her middle finger, and how every few minutes, Hiyori's eyes would dart Shinji's way and then return to the ground as if looking anywhere else might kill the stillness… Yes, yes, and there was still much, much more to learn.
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AN: Ew, this one isn't very good…