His chest heaved up and down, while perfectly balancing his weight between his toes, heels pointing upwards. His fingers, shaking with over exertion, delicately laced themselves around the hilt of a dagger as he moved his body into the next position, blade fiercely shooting forwards. All he saw were the tiny mistakes as he continued to push himself onwards, practicing early into the morning. Everything had to be perfect. *An Angsty Fic Told Through Ghirahim's POV During The Events Of SS*
9 parts