The Gym; Thursday Afternoon.

[bound2blade.livejournal.com]

After her phone call, Sakurazaki made a straight bee-line toward the gym, toward one of the punching bags, and set to the task of beating the stuffing out of it with all her brute strength and training (because, really, she was a tiny girl, and brute strength only got her so far). Punches, kicks, all used to release her anger and frustration on a poor, defenseless sack. But the rush, the adreniline, the constant movement, was possibly the only thing keeping her from breaking down at that moment.

And, for once, she didn't want to be anywhere near her sword.

Which was probably a good thing.


[[ open for afternoon gym needs. she probably wouldn't pay any attention to anyone unless they came to her ]]