『If Bo-kun is the lightning rod, the one who draws damage to himself and away from the rest of the Famiglia, serving as the lightning rod. Then I am lightning itself, the one who strikes the enemies of the famiglia for the sake of them not getting i...
"I'm waiting for the right moment to finally say hello to him."
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51 days until the strongest sun comes.
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Imagine not talking to a guy because you're too much of a coward to talk to him, leaves him foods in his desk for an act of kindness and then suddenly, one day he bumps into you and both of you falls flat to the ground, his head in your stomach and your short skirt (She really needs to wear shorts in the future, she'll take notes of it.) up and everyone in the hallway sees your panties.
Sounds cliché but with this shōnen protagonist, it wasn't exactly uncommon. Him whose body is so uncoordinate, him whose body wouldn't listen to his very own self, him who trips even on air. Him who is Dame-Tsuna, no good at everything.
Yes him.
Sakura's whole face turned red, blushing furiously, not sure if it was from embarassment or if it was from anger. The boy who had gained Sakura's approval and unrequired attention looked up to her, his face pale and red.
Sakura could feel the frustrated tears gathering in her green eyes, her eyes showing anger on it. Imagine that every person is a channel on the television that is existence. Okay, understandably, that sounds as strange as it can get, but bear with that weird thought for a few minutes.
Each channel is unique. They are almost always rudimentary at the beginning in ways that are similar to others. But, after that period of awkwardness, they're ensured to grow in different manners and shoot off in widely separate directions. Some might become specialised channels, a news one perhaps or maybe one that shows nothing but nature documentaries. Others could go the opposite way and be filled with programmes so different from each other that it becomes a mess. There will be a few that reach fame and are immensely popular whilst a handful can only be understood by a very small albeit loyal niche crowd. All of them are constantly changing, evolving with time.
But, eventually, the great television of existence, which is being watched by some higher entity to us or perhaps by no one, just accidentally kept on when someone left the house maybe, will lose the signal to a few channels. When flicked to by a remote, there will be no shows waiting there. No reality show dramas, no horrifying news, no cartoons, only white noise accompanied by a screen blaring static.
