[ Eleven-year-old Sousuke is sitting at a desk practicing his calligraphy. Everything is very neat about the affair, including the pots and brushes laid out on the table before which he kneels. Slow, even strokes as he works on the kanji for 'Patience'.
It's a very nice day outside and the porch shouji are pushed aside, allowing the sunlight and
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[There's a yelp intertwined with the snapping of the wood quickly followed by the sound of something falling through the leaves and the grand finale is the solid thud of body hitting dirt.]
-ow, ow.
[... At least Gin's okay.]
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It allows Sousuke to stand up and fold his arms disapprovingly without having to feel guilty. ]
Don't die next to my house, you'll make a mess if you land on a rock.
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What? That's all ya've got to say after I fell all that way?
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