The clench of Tokaku's jaw sent a chill up Haru's spine, as she could practically hear teeth groaning against the strain.
She wanted to reach over to touch Tokaku, who's eyes bore into the screen with an aqua intensity Haru didn't think possible, every muscle poised on the edge of a tsunami of adrenaline, back terrifyingly rigid.
The ball sailed cleanly through the goalposts, and Tokaku was already on her feet, hands immediately at her knives; there was a stinging flick of her wrists and they were out, shimmering steel pointed at the new flatscreen.
"TOKAKU NO, PLEASE SIT DOWN"
Tokaku was still and silent, eyes unblinking until the ad break, when she finally exhaled.
"I'm getting a drink." She breathed, skulking into the kitchen.
Haru eyed the kitchen door nervously.
There was eight seconds of game time left. Brazil had been obliterated, and with them, Tokaku's dreams of another victorious FIFA world cup.
There was a small noise outside, and Haru could restrain herself no longer, sprinting to the door, slamming it open and being faced with…an empty room.
She got to the window in time to see Tokaku sprinting into the distance, knives poised.
A familiar red note sat upon the windowsill.
Haru tentatively picked it up, the smooth cursive lettering within scratched out and hastily replaced.
"Unbelievable." She whispered.
Haru sighed wearily; Tokaku's sport obsession was reaching new heights of idiocy.
She yelled out the window, though she knew the effort was futile.
"TOKAKU, YOU CANNOT ASSASSINATE THE ENTIRE POPULATION OF GERMANY. THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE. THAT IS NOT LEGAL. PLEASE COME BACK."