[Fuji] Staying in Shape
Who: Fuji Syuusuke
Where: Outside Ami's house
When: June 17th, around 5:30 PM
Invited: Open
Status: Incomplete
Whack, thud, whack, thud, whack, thud
The ball met the racket and flew towards the wall, hit it and immediately bounced back. Rinse and repeat. It had been a while since Fuji had felt the urge to pick up his old racket and one of the well used balls from his mediocre luggage. It sort of figured that he really didn't have all that much clothes with him, but he did have some parts of his tennis equipment with him. And he hadn't even been one of the most dedicated players on the team, not by a long shot.
Still, he figured that during special circumstances, most people liked to return to that what was familiar to them, to find a sense of security, the eye of the storm so to say. For him, that security blanket was the tennis - or his photographing, but he wanted to safe his film, and develop pictures right now might just prove to be a far too great hassle - and that was the reason he had snuck out of the house half an hour ago and started to attack the wall of a nearby house, sending away balls with the ease that came from being a genius and having practiced the sport for over six years.
A thought flashed through his head; if the tennis ball split open, would half rotted matter spill from it, just as it had with the zombies' brains? Or would it be dry like the body in the store?
Maybe tennis hadn't been such a good idea after all...
Where: Outside Ami's house
When: June 17th, around 5:30 PM
Invited: Open
Status: Incomplete
Whack, thud, whack, thud, whack, thud
The ball met the racket and flew towards the wall, hit it and immediately bounced back. Rinse and repeat. It had been a while since Fuji had felt the urge to pick up his old racket and one of the well used balls from his mediocre luggage. It sort of figured that he really didn't have all that much clothes with him, but he did have some parts of his tennis equipment with him. And he hadn't even been one of the most dedicated players on the team, not by a long shot.
Still, he figured that during special circumstances, most people liked to return to that what was familiar to them, to find a sense of security, the eye of the storm so to say. For him, that security blanket was the tennis - or his photographing, but he wanted to safe his film, and develop pictures right now might just prove to be a far too great hassle - and that was the reason he had snuck out of the house half an hour ago and started to attack the wall of a nearby house, sending away balls with the ease that came from being a genius and having practiced the sport for over six years.
A thought flashed through his head; if the tennis ball split open, would half rotted matter spill from it, just as it had with the zombies' brains? Or would it be dry like the body in the store?
Maybe tennis hadn't been such a good idea after all...