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┍━━━☽【☹︎】☾━━━┑ third person pov 11:32 am february 26th ┕━━━☽【☹︎】☾━━━┙
TAKING OFF in a sprint, Hitomi's wisteria tresses breezed behind her as she barely managed to stay ahead of the crowd, all thanks to her long legs that seemed to go on for kilometers. Being on her old school's soccer team for the past year probably helped too.
She swiftly broke off from the main road in fear of getting caught in the crossfire of the other teenagers untrained quirks. Her chunky jewelry that was usually tucked behind many layers, could actually be heard clinking together today as she ran deeper into the various alleyways.
Her oversized lilac t-shirt contrasted the darker hue of her collarbone length hair that was freely flying behind her. It was also stolen, but only from Neito, so no harm no foul, right?
Right! And knowing her equally as baggy dark jeans were stolen from Hitoshi's clean laundry basket, Hitomi had a feeling this test might scuff them up in the end.
With not much of a plan in her pretty tired head, she simply did her best to stay alert to any danger. But that didn't stop from wondering how in the world Eraser Head passed all those years ago.
As Hitomi entered a covered neon lit tunnel, she thought about what he had told her not many days before: "You'll be fine if you're smart about it, just remember," he paused and held out his pointer finger for emphasis. "Creativity is key."
She huffed as she neared the end of the fairly short underground passage. She ran a hand through her hair and began to mumble to herself.
"And just how am I supposed to do thaAAAAHT—"
A huge metallic robot slammed down in front of the girl's exit, scaring the life out of her. The sheer force of it knocked Hitomi on her back, winding her slightly damaged lungs.
She scrambled backwards a moment before pushing herself back to her shaking feet, mind blanking on what to do while the robot's red lens reflected her perturbed expression.
"Great," she sarcastically muttered under her breath while her hands were half up in surrender.
Soon enough, Hitomi's legs told her brain to book it back where she came from, sending her stepping backwards while still eyeing the three pointer suspiciously.
Before fully turning around— and feeling dread make her blood run arcticly cold. Another three point bot was blocking the entrance; she was trapped.
"Shiiiii—"
"Ready," the droid monotonously cut her off, echoing into the cement walls.
She whipped her head back and forth between each robot, analyzing her surroundings rapidly as she tried to decide the best course of action.
