Jumping Rope [OPEN!]
Oct 25, 2012 13:42:09 GMT -5
Post by Nanami Yuuki on Oct 25, 2012 13:42:09 GMT -5
The problem with not having any friends is that you end up developing unsightly habits just because the days are long and boring and there’s often nothing to do. Unless you count studying, but who counts studying?
Friends are the ultimate time-fillers in school life. Have none of those, the result is too much time. That’s why Nanami ended up staring into oblivion for several hours every other day, and writing bad poetry, and doing her nails to pristine perfection just like Brooke had taught her. Or jumping rope.
Yes, unfortunately, jumping rope too. There’s this hour that’s sort of in-between everything during the afternoon that nobody ever, ever comes out into the courtyard. Nanami had been at it for months already, and on the rare occasion that she had encountered a living soul, she had managed to stop what she was doing fast enough to pretend she was doing nothing.
Not that there was anything to be embarrassed about, really. Jumping rope was a perfectly natural and plausible and normal form of exercise. It’s one of those things that she started as a child, and loved so much that by now she had already become freakishly good at it.
She can not only do doubles, she can do triples too, and quadruples if you’re really curious to know. That’s not the problem at all. The problem is the humming.
The cursed, cursed humming. It’s not particularly controllable. A habit she picked up as a child and just got worse with the years. It’s just no fun without the humming, the humming is the part that makes jumping up and down exciting.
And if anyone finds out about it, she’d probably die from embarrassment. Not that she knows them, or owes them, or will ever talk to them. But die, she’d simply die.
Nanami Yuuki who spent most of her days at Hammel confined within her rigid self-inflicted loneliness, felt free and happy jumping rope in the Courtyard that day. So much so that she forgot a very important fact.
And that is: every rule has an exception. And if for dozens of times beforehand no one had ventured onto the courtyard at an appointed hour, it did not mean that that phenomenon was not subject to change.
She danced across the courtyard with her skip-rope, humming the entire time, completely immersed inside her own bubbly world. Jumping rope at a certain level required concentration, and if you wanted to do all those tricks that Nanami loved to do, there can be no contact with the outside world.
And it was too late, far too late. A shape entered her awareness, a dark, looming, human-shaped shape. Nanami stopped her skipping, the rope falling limp at her feet and stared up at it. It was there. A person.
And they had heard the humming.
Her mouth turned into a gasping O, she looked left and right, but there was nowhere to hide. All she could do was close her eyes and cover her face with her hands and hope to forget that person’s face and that this ever happened.
Friends are the ultimate time-fillers in school life. Have none of those, the result is too much time. That’s why Nanami ended up staring into oblivion for several hours every other day, and writing bad poetry, and doing her nails to pristine perfection just like Brooke had taught her. Or jumping rope.
Yes, unfortunately, jumping rope too. There’s this hour that’s sort of in-between everything during the afternoon that nobody ever, ever comes out into the courtyard. Nanami had been at it for months already, and on the rare occasion that she had encountered a living soul, she had managed to stop what she was doing fast enough to pretend she was doing nothing.
Not that there was anything to be embarrassed about, really. Jumping rope was a perfectly natural and plausible and normal form of exercise. It’s one of those things that she started as a child, and loved so much that by now she had already become freakishly good at it.
She can not only do doubles, she can do triples too, and quadruples if you’re really curious to know. That’s not the problem at all. The problem is the humming.
The cursed, cursed humming. It’s not particularly controllable. A habit she picked up as a child and just got worse with the years. It’s just no fun without the humming, the humming is the part that makes jumping up and down exciting.
And if anyone finds out about it, she’d probably die from embarrassment. Not that she knows them, or owes them, or will ever talk to them. But die, she’d simply die.
Nanami Yuuki who spent most of her days at Hammel confined within her rigid self-inflicted loneliness, felt free and happy jumping rope in the Courtyard that day. So much so that she forgot a very important fact.
And that is: every rule has an exception. And if for dozens of times beforehand no one had ventured onto the courtyard at an appointed hour, it did not mean that that phenomenon was not subject to change.
She danced across the courtyard with her skip-rope, humming the entire time, completely immersed inside her own bubbly world. Jumping rope at a certain level required concentration, and if you wanted to do all those tricks that Nanami loved to do, there can be no contact with the outside world.
And it was too late, far too late. A shape entered her awareness, a dark, looming, human-shaped shape. Nanami stopped her skipping, the rope falling limp at her feet and stared up at it. It was there. A person.
And they had heard the humming.
Her mouth turned into a gasping O, she looked left and right, but there was nowhere to hide. All she could do was close her eyes and cover her face with her hands and hope to forget that person’s face and that this ever happened.
