Disclaimer: Why do we have to write these things? Shouldn't they know by
now that if someone did own something, they probably wouldn't be writing on
here . . .
What ever.
I own nanimo.
My quick little shout-outs:
Sakura of the Ninjitsu: --; Those are the only sports my school provides in the spring. Remember we have two others seasons of Autumn and Winter in which there's possibly eighteen different sports . . . or maybe . . . I don't know. Sarah, Caroline, Myriam, help me out here!
I just got an iPod for my birthday on Monday so I'm wicked happy. All I've been doing is playing around with it. Did I mention that the FLCL soundtrack is the BEST THING EVER?!??! Oh my GOD. I haven't stopped listening to it since I got it. I can't stop listening to CARNIVAL by The Pillows. It's awesome.
hem hem
Enjoy!
Way Enough
"Sir?"
. . .
"Excuse me, sir?"
. . .
"Um, sir? Mr., um . . . Youkai, sir? The bus has stopped. We're here."
I stir slightly. I've heard the goddamn woman the whole time she's been shouting in my ear and I'm this close to strangling her to death.
Damn hearing . . . it's been (as my mother says) "gifted" since I was born.
Gifted my ass.
"Sir? Did yo-"
"I heard you the first twenty seven times, you don't have to keep going." I mutter under my navy blue jacket that had been thrown over my face because of the noise of the bus. I muttered it quite half-heartedly might I add.
I can hear her huffing and the sounds of her fists resting on her hips. Through the cloth of my jacket I can vaguely see her sticking her tongue out towards me.
"Oh yeah. Real lady-like," I scowl.
She's taken aback and mumbles some upper class, swear words under her breath.
I take a deep breath and slide off the jacket that's resting on my face. I inch over to my right and stuff the jacket in my bag along with my head phones attached to my scratched up iPod screen. I stretch my arms above my head lethargically, reach over, snatch my sports bag and slink over to the front of the bus.
I give the driver a tired look and salute her with my fore finger. She scoffs and flips her chestnut brown hair over the side of her face that's visible to my eyes.
'Whatever,' I think as I hop off the bus, the sunlight blinding me as I look up at the small molded wooden cottage before me. 'Oh, peachy. Looks like home.'
I can feel the sun creeping up on the dusty sand below my feet. Before the bus even moves, I can feel the vibration of the engine on my back and the earth. As it pulls away along the gravel road, I can see the shadows of the trees brush over the roof of the large white van and then re-position themselves back on their respective spots.
I lean over and get a better grip on my bag as I make my way towards the worn out hunk of wood known as a cabin. The steps creak as I walk up to the moth eaten screen door.
I can hear myself clearly sigh.
Suddenly, I hear a scream from inside the cabin. My eyes widen as I realize it's a woman's scream.
'I thought this was a boys camp?!' I think as it all sets in. 'That bus driver must have dropped me off at the wrong camp. Damn the bitch to hell.'
The woman in the cabin screams again. I drop my bag and hurl the door open as I stumble into the tiny cottage. It's dark and damp with insects crawling everywhere.
I briefly look around for the source of the scream and quickly find it. On the bottom half of one of the bunk beds, there's a girl sitting there. I can tell immediately she's shaking. She looks no older than me but still maybe a year younger. Her wavy ebony hair tumbling about her cold and sweaty face. Her eyes find mine as we awkwardly stare at each other for a long while. She's plastered against the wall as if someone's threatening her. I can hear a tiny jitter of movement as her eyes jolt right back to something in front of her. I blink and look down to what she's staring at.
A centipede.
. . .
A centipede?!
She's scared of a centipede?!
My eyes narrow lazily as the sole of my shoe casually finds the large bug in a very intimate way. The girl flinches slightly and looks up at me. She slides out of her position and kneels on the edge of her bed to look closer at the remains of the giant bug. Her nose scrunches in displeasure.
She's wearing a dark red jacket with a faded green shirt underneath. The shirt reads 01 in large print. She's wearing denim shorts that looked like they've been cut down even further with a jagged knife.
She turns her gaze up at me again. "Thanks," she says blankly. She blinks and then smiles shyly.
Something about that smile . . .
Ah, who cares. She begins to speak as she stands up off her cot. "I'm Kagome. Are, um, you the coach?"
I can't help but chuckle. "I wish. I'm here to row." Her facial expression disappears and a confused look takes over. "To row?"
My amber-eyed glare meets her doe eyes. "You have a problem with that?"
She looks away still confused. "No, it's just that . . .well . . . I thought this was for girls."
She looks almost disappointed. I lean back against the bed post leisurely. "Well, you're not the only one. I thought this was for guys only."
"Looks like we're both in a rut." She smiles wearily, closes her eyes and then slips back on the bed again. Her hands resting on her knees.
Now that I notice it, she's not too bad looking.
Both our heads cock and turn as I hear a familiar voice and a familiar sound of a slap. The door opens as a girl with long brown hair and a very crimson face drags an-all-too-familiar monk-in-training through the door; a new hand print painted on his face.
I shake my head. "Miroku, you idiot."
He looks up at me as do the other two girls. "InuYasha, my friend! How are you, lad?"
"You call me lad again and I'll kill you."
"Aww, why so harsh?" his short black ponytail slicked back as he smiles.
For the umpteenth time today, I bring my glare towards him.
"Okay, okay!" He mutters, his hands flying up in the air as a defense. I turn to the girl with long brown hair.
"Sorry for any perverted moves this guy makes on you. It's his nature."
A sad look appears on his face. "Now, now, did you really have to put it so . . . so . . ."
"Truthfully?!" The brown haired girl shouted.
. . .
"Maybe . . ."
She grunted as she rubbed her forehead soothingly. "This guy was touching my ass the entire ride down here! Get him away from me! And-!" her attention turns to the Kagome girl.
"Kag-chan?!"
"Sango-chan!!"
They practically fly into each others arms as Miroku and I exchange looks.
The Sango girl pulls back still holding onto Kagome's arms. "But I thought you we-?!"
"Yeah. I was."
Sango gives a worried look and Kagome waves it away with her hand.
Suddenly, as we all look at each other and mentally figure out names (Miroku figuring out other things . . .) a man comes flying through the door. He looks old and ratty. He rises up slowly and dusts off his pants. "I apologize for my tardiness. My names Myoga. Coach Myoga to you all."
AN: Interesting. Interesting. I would write more but my dad's picking me up soon so whatever.
My quick little shout-outs:
Sakura of the Ninjitsu: --; Those are the only sports my school provides in the spring. Remember we have two others seasons of Autumn and Winter in which there's possibly eighteen different sports . . . or maybe . . . I don't know. Sarah, Caroline, Myriam, help me out here!
I just got an iPod for my birthday on Monday so I'm wicked happy. All I've been doing is playing around with it. Did I mention that the FLCL soundtrack is the BEST THING EVER?!??! Oh my GOD. I haven't stopped listening to it since I got it. I can't stop listening to CARNIVAL by The Pillows. It's awesome.
hem hem
Enjoy!
Way Enough
"Sir?"
. . .
"Excuse me, sir?"
. . .
"Um, sir? Mr., um . . . Youkai, sir? The bus has stopped. We're here."
I stir slightly. I've heard the goddamn woman the whole time she's been shouting in my ear and I'm this close to strangling her to death.
Damn hearing . . . it's been (as my mother says) "gifted" since I was born.
Gifted my ass.
"Sir? Did yo-"
"I heard you the first twenty seven times, you don't have to keep going." I mutter under my navy blue jacket that had been thrown over my face because of the noise of the bus. I muttered it quite half-heartedly might I add.
I can hear her huffing and the sounds of her fists resting on her hips. Through the cloth of my jacket I can vaguely see her sticking her tongue out towards me.
"Oh yeah. Real lady-like," I scowl.
She's taken aback and mumbles some upper class, swear words under her breath.
I take a deep breath and slide off the jacket that's resting on my face. I inch over to my right and stuff the jacket in my bag along with my head phones attached to my scratched up iPod screen. I stretch my arms above my head lethargically, reach over, snatch my sports bag and slink over to the front of the bus.
I give the driver a tired look and salute her with my fore finger. She scoffs and flips her chestnut brown hair over the side of her face that's visible to my eyes.
'Whatever,' I think as I hop off the bus, the sunlight blinding me as I look up at the small molded wooden cottage before me. 'Oh, peachy. Looks like home.'
I can feel the sun creeping up on the dusty sand below my feet. Before the bus even moves, I can feel the vibration of the engine on my back and the earth. As it pulls away along the gravel road, I can see the shadows of the trees brush over the roof of the large white van and then re-position themselves back on their respective spots.
I lean over and get a better grip on my bag as I make my way towards the worn out hunk of wood known as a cabin. The steps creak as I walk up to the moth eaten screen door.
I can hear myself clearly sigh.
Suddenly, I hear a scream from inside the cabin. My eyes widen as I realize it's a woman's scream.
'I thought this was a boys camp?!' I think as it all sets in. 'That bus driver must have dropped me off at the wrong camp. Damn the bitch to hell.'
The woman in the cabin screams again. I drop my bag and hurl the door open as I stumble into the tiny cottage. It's dark and damp with insects crawling everywhere.
I briefly look around for the source of the scream and quickly find it. On the bottom half of one of the bunk beds, there's a girl sitting there. I can tell immediately she's shaking. She looks no older than me but still maybe a year younger. Her wavy ebony hair tumbling about her cold and sweaty face. Her eyes find mine as we awkwardly stare at each other for a long while. She's plastered against the wall as if someone's threatening her. I can hear a tiny jitter of movement as her eyes jolt right back to something in front of her. I blink and look down to what she's staring at.
A centipede.
. . .
A centipede?!
She's scared of a centipede?!
My eyes narrow lazily as the sole of my shoe casually finds the large bug in a very intimate way. The girl flinches slightly and looks up at me. She slides out of her position and kneels on the edge of her bed to look closer at the remains of the giant bug. Her nose scrunches in displeasure.
She's wearing a dark red jacket with a faded green shirt underneath. The shirt reads 01 in large print. She's wearing denim shorts that looked like they've been cut down even further with a jagged knife.
She turns her gaze up at me again. "Thanks," she says blankly. She blinks and then smiles shyly.
Something about that smile . . .
Ah, who cares. She begins to speak as she stands up off her cot. "I'm Kagome. Are, um, you the coach?"
I can't help but chuckle. "I wish. I'm here to row." Her facial expression disappears and a confused look takes over. "To row?"
My amber-eyed glare meets her doe eyes. "You have a problem with that?"
She looks away still confused. "No, it's just that . . .well . . . I thought this was for girls."
She looks almost disappointed. I lean back against the bed post leisurely. "Well, you're not the only one. I thought this was for guys only."
"Looks like we're both in a rut." She smiles wearily, closes her eyes and then slips back on the bed again. Her hands resting on her knees.
Now that I notice it, she's not too bad looking.
Both our heads cock and turn as I hear a familiar voice and a familiar sound of a slap. The door opens as a girl with long brown hair and a very crimson face drags an-all-too-familiar monk-in-training through the door; a new hand print painted on his face.
I shake my head. "Miroku, you idiot."
He looks up at me as do the other two girls. "InuYasha, my friend! How are you, lad?"
"You call me lad again and I'll kill you."
"Aww, why so harsh?" his short black ponytail slicked back as he smiles.
For the umpteenth time today, I bring my glare towards him.
"Okay, okay!" He mutters, his hands flying up in the air as a defense. I turn to the girl with long brown hair.
"Sorry for any perverted moves this guy makes on you. It's his nature."
A sad look appears on his face. "Now, now, did you really have to put it so . . . so . . ."
"Truthfully?!" The brown haired girl shouted.
. . .
"Maybe . . ."
She grunted as she rubbed her forehead soothingly. "This guy was touching my ass the entire ride down here! Get him away from me! And-!" her attention turns to the Kagome girl.
"Kag-chan?!"
"Sango-chan!!"
They practically fly into each others arms as Miroku and I exchange looks.
The Sango girl pulls back still holding onto Kagome's arms. "But I thought you we-?!"
"Yeah. I was."
Sango gives a worried look and Kagome waves it away with her hand.
Suddenly, as we all look at each other and mentally figure out names (Miroku figuring out other things . . .) a man comes flying through the door. He looks old and ratty. He rises up slowly and dusts off his pants. "I apologize for my tardiness. My names Myoga. Coach Myoga to you all."
AN: Interesting. Interesting. I would write more but my dad's picking me up soon so whatever.