Kiyoko studied her imaginary target in front of her. She was intensely focused as she gripped the handle of her katana tightly and swung, then leapt to the right toward a tree, put her back against it, and growled. She was so frustrated with how lonely she felt and this was the only way she knew how to let it out. Kiyoko swung the katana again; it gleamed and sang through the air, and she twirled pulling the katana to her, and faced the tree. She stopped short of slicing the gentle giant. She didn't want to hurt the beauty before her, and felt a pang of sorrow as the trees were the only listeners she had. She stood there for a good two minutes panting hard; her muscles ached from the tiresome two hour exercise. Her simple purple tank top and black sweat pants were soaked through with sweat, but she didn't care, and didn't feel any chill. She inhaled deeply then exhaled.
Sheathing her sword, she whispered her thanks to the wind, and let herself plop onto the ground with a sigh. She'd seen so many others with friends at school, and she couldn't muster up the courage to even attempt to make one. She was afraid of possible rejection and it didn't help that her peers saw her as intimidating. Her fathers taught her to be strong but kind. No one saw the soft side of Kiyoko because all they saw was her sword and precision. She hit the ground with a fist and closed her eyes trying to stop her mind from thinking anymore and tuned into the quiet of the forest around her.
