Author: SarasaComet PM
Giroro gets tricked once again by Keroro, but it turns out different this time. He's injured. Bad. But there's only one who wants to offer a helping hand... can he take it? Of course, he's afraid to... but he needs it more than ever... help him, Dororo.Rated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Romance - Giroro & Dororo/Zeroro - Chapters: 10 - Words: 13,213 - Reviews: 19 - Favs: 16 - Follows: 9 - Updated: 01-21-13 - Published: 09-17-12 - id: 8535482
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A placid breeze passed easily and lazily overhead a field far from the outskirts of Tokyo. In the middle of this forgotten prairie, a small red keronian raised his head to the sunlight that fell easily and coaxingly all around him. Well, it's not exactly challenging weather, so it won't be much to test us... he thought. But a lesser occupied frog might point out that it was a very beautiful day. However, that would not be this one. This frog, known commonly as Corporal Giroro, was currently very occupied. He tapped a foot impatiently on the ground, and forced himself to recall exactly what his plans today had been aligned to. First, set up camp in this abandoned field which he'd spent all night trying to find. Second, warm-up before combat training, something his platoon was in serious need of. Third, a brusque break, wherein he would allow no nonsense and no quitting half-way. Fourth, endurance training for an hour. Fifth, precision practice until the sun went down, so as to make sure they were properly worn out. Then the last break, a cool-down, and finally, he'd personally clean the equipment while the others left, before he, too, returned to their base (he refused to call it home). That was plenty to do, he figured. A busy day, he decided. Perhaps the only problem was possibly that no one else had bothered to show up.
Just yesterday, in the middle of the invasion meeting, Keroro had come up with this idea. It had been about the time he'd gotten in a shouting match with him about the usefulness of an invasion plan involving, what was it? Zeros, table corners, hot springs, whatever. All of Keroro's ideas were useless from the start, as far as he was concerned. "A mandated training day!" That's what that fool Keroro had said. "I'll even let you plan the whole thing, Corporal! Just calm down, gero!" Oh, and like the gullible idiot he was, he'd spent all night planning, deciding, researching. Everything from the most optimal location for a training practice to the kind of training that would provide the most challenging atmosphere. All so that they could all train together like a platoon should, sharply and admirably...and, yet...
"Alright, if no one's coming, then I'm still getting on with this! I didn't go through all this work to just slack-off like that green bastard!" He growled sharply through his teeth, infuriated as usual. Was that Keroro's plan all along? Just to anger me? Well, great, he'd finally succeeded at something. Giroro looked over his shoulder, toward the pile he'd amassed for provisions. There sat over a dozen different types of military-grade weaponry and five packs filled with necessary survival tools. He had assumed the others would bring their own vital supplies, like food and medical kits.
He scanned the horizon once more, hoping to spot some UFO in the distance speeding towards his chosen area with great fervor. It wasn't anything special, it was just a barren field, surrounded by trees on two sides and more field on the other two, probably once used for soy beans or corn, but now out of season and empty. His own transportation device laid abandoned just to the right of all his supplies, which had been so meticulously picked out. Tmp, tmp, tmp. His foot tapped quickly against the ground. What time is it? Giroro glanced at the abandoned UFO, a small digital clock within its' dashboard announcing that it was 5:56 am. He'd told them "Be there at 6, definitely. Actually, get there ten minutes before that because you're all going to be late, anyway." He should've recognized what was going to happen the moment the light in Keroro's eyes just sort of faded out, and from the discouraged face Private Tamama had shot him. They must've just thought "What? That's way too early! 6? What, is he insane! Oh, I'll just tell him I forgot the next day, that'll work...". He hadn't even expected Kululu to come from the start, that nerdy, seriously out-of-shape frog had just sort of slouched forward in his seat, cocked his head in the opposite direction, and let out a mumble of, "Bad timing, Corporal." before launching into one of his infernal resonances of "Ku Ku Ku.".
Giroro ground his teeth in anger, slowly closing his eyes against the cheerful sunshine. How mad he was for letting himself believe that it'd be different this time! How many times had Keroro thrown him a bone in pity like this? Another damn unfulfilled promise added to the pile, he supposed. There was no such thing as 'Have your cake and eat it, too', huh?
Behind him, the digital clock chimed peppily in his direction, a timer he'd left incase everyone really did show up on time and he needed to be alerted it was time to start training. What a useless device, reminding him once again that his was the only soul left in that whole field! Fury seized hold of him, wrapping all around his muscles and limbs, exploding out of no where all at once and culminating in him taking a running start and throwing his fist right into the dashboard before he even knew what he was doing. The small window shattered instantly, sending sparkling shards of glass flying in all directions, including into his skin and all around the ground. The machine beeped weakly in defeat, sending a steady stream of error messages his way to match the steady stream of curse words he flung back at it.
"You piece of scrap metal! Don't send your damn messages to me like I don't know full well Keroro tricked me again! I don't need this bull, I don't, I don't-"