The blonde heaved her head off the floor, "Thirty, I'll take thirty," she finished her sit-ups, wondering if she should even attempt push-ups.
The little wind picked up the blonde locks off her face, coming from the feet swinging off the bedframe, "Are we ready to go?" A purple sundress, a hat and a scarf-cape that could wrap around her arms—a dagger taped to the side.
"Yeah, yeah," Jotou peered to her friend. Friend. And one thing she could read from her friend's face, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Fumeko shook her head, her gaze was lowered the entire time of the blonde's short exercise routine—a solemn look.
"Somehow I doubt that."
"Did I do this the last time or am I just getting bad at hiding it…?" the brunette crossed her arms and glanced elsewhere.
"You were never good at it to begin with; at least not with me."
