He was going to have some strong arms.

Saint let out slow breaths and was careful not to buckle his knees as he held up the buckets. Due to his physique--being taller and a bit bulkier than the average teen, his buckets were filled to the brim for the full effect. With lax eyes he stared forward at a bird's nest outside of the large window in front of him. Cream colored bangs were curled and plastered around golden eyes that shone like honey from the sunlight.

This school session was already starting out offbeat.

That morning was plagued with lateness. He didn't set his alarm like he thought he had right before knocking out in front of his game system. The bus came and went without him. Running to school was a feat and even now he regretted making such an effort just to be standing in pristine marble floored halls with sore arms playing the concentration game. 

He held his arms as steady as he could, but strain brought them to quiver just the slightest. The veins in his dark forearms began to protrude.