Nobody seems to be online this week, so here's an old ficclet that I'm not terribly proud of.
10. Time:
He spent countless hours trying to find the perfect outfit for her to wear to the Deimon Sports Day.
"Hmmm…Full armor?" *scratch* "She'd look like she was from Damn Ojo." *Scribblescribblescribble* "Amazon? No, That's powerful but it won't get those damn brats motivated to win like I want." Another crumpled ball of paper made a perfect arc into the now full trashcan.
"Yakuza? I'd never get a big paint-on tattoo like that to last all day, and I doubt she's the type to walk around in a torso wrap all day at school… maybe Damn Skates would help her with that…" I'd be willing to help…FOCUS!
The whole notepad made its way to the trash this time. He furrowed his brows, fingers to his temples, a new idea forming. "Not yakuza, maybe more Godfather; American Gangster. A mafia boss's lady…"
Shots rang out from inside the clubhouse, as well as a particularly enthusiastic, "Ya-Ha!" Mamori paused, turning, arms full of water bottles and a frown marring her face. She thought briefly that it was odd for Hiruma to be working in the clubhouse during practice, but shrugged and headed for the field to set up the next drills.