Juro had been told to run. Tom had made it clear that he ought to be running longer (which was still a stupid way to measure), and so because he’d been bored he’d decided to go running again tonight to push himself. Even if he’d pointed out a hundred times that physical exertion was not something that utilized any of his strengths, he’d found that he liked the time he spent running. Moreso because he was generally alone when he did it, and had time to think without the constant stupidity of people who tried to talk to him.
He’d finished his run, though, and found that he had quite a distance to walk back to his dorm. Which is how he came, easily distracted, to be by the Archery area – the wrong end of it. Anyone else would have been happy that they hadn’t been shot, really. Juro, instead, looked at the perfectly hit bullseye, and then through the dark at the boy who’d shot it. He didn’t say anything.