A/N: I don't know what happened, but I just wrote this. I think I'm edging too much on Kusanagi, eh? Well, it won't be just him— I'll insert some more later! I would've wanted to expand Yata-chan's love for his skateboard, though if I did that, this chapter would get out of track. Anyway, please review and enjoy! :D
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN K (ANIME & MANGA) AND ITS CHARACTERS.
Kusanagi-san is acting really strange today; is it just me or he's hiding something? He was being so considerate yesterday— he didn't even strangle me to death when I told him what happened. What's his problem now? He got all serious and fussed up about the city activities. Tss. I don't see a single reason why he'd raise Alert One in my turf; it's annoying. If something happens, then I'll just smash my way out. There's not even a fucking thief or kidnapper here in Shizume for the past two weeks; what's the big deal?
.
.
.
So, here I am taking my patrol in the main streets, and man, are those people like ants. Hah. Watching from the rooftops while on my skateboard is the best— I don't have to avoid cars and that scum bots. I can fly all I want 'til my feet hurts, and no one's going to stop me. This is why I enjoy taking the job of being Homura's Eye: I get to clear my mind and do whatever I want. Almost everyone in the clan doesn't know how much freedom I have when I ride my skates; it's like I have the power over the winds, and I defy gravity all the way. Hmm. I am Yatagarasu after all.
.
.
.
After an hour, Kusanagi-san called. I held my PDA in front of my face for about five seconds, and then, snapping out, I immediately answered it. Tch. Stupid. Why didn't I just accept the call right after I saw it was him? Stupid. Kusanagi-san's voice was far from his PDA— maybe he was doing something else? Anyway, I asked why he called, but he just said that I should head back to the bar right away. He killed the line before I could say anything, and he sounded like he was too distracted. What's wrong with him? I've never thought that he'd crack— can someone tell me what shit is happening? Fuck.
.
.
.
.