Disclaimer: I do not own Nurarihyon no Mago or any of its characters, and I make no profit whatsoever in the writing of this story. However, if I really were Hiroshi Shiibashi, this is how Chapter 57 would have ended. Enjoy!
…
Chapter 1: Nightly Nonsense
"NOOO! NOOO! WHY'VE I GOT TO BE HEALED BY A YOKAI?"
For the greater part of the last few minutes, Yura Keikain was locked in a vehement struggle with her would-be nurse. Although Yura would have normally welcomed any and all medical treatment, her current situation overrode her sense of gratitude. It was simply appalling! To think, an onmyouji of the Keikain, Kyoto's most famed family of exorcists, would be receiving aid from her enemy in her enemy's very own home.
"H-hey . . ." the young woman before her grumbled out. "I'm not thrilled about it either! But it was Master's order, so it can't be helped!"
Yura shot the Yuki-onna an indignant look. "What do you mean 'Master'?" she questioned. "And who do you think you are, just showing up to school like you have a right to be there, when you're just a stupid yokai!"
As hard as it was for Yura to believe, the girl called Tsurara Oikawa was indeed a yokai. She had always seen this person as your normal, everyday schoolgirl, save for her excessively doting behavior towards one particular boy. This girl, whom she considered a classmate, had hidden her true identity as a Yuki-onna.
Without thinking, Yura reached into her pocket and brandished two shikigami. "I'll put an end to you right n-gebogghh!"
As much as she wanted to summon Tanrou and Rokuson, Yura could not find the words to complete the incantation. It was probably due to the fact that her loving caretaker had seen fit to cover her mouth with a rather large slab of ice.
"Just stay quiet for a while!" Tsurara stated. "Covered in wounds like this even though you're a girl . . ."
Yura was stunned. The Tsurara before her was nothing like the bright, cheerful girl that she went to school with. Her stringent tone matched perfectly with her cold blue eyes, eyes that would not hesitate to freeze her at a moment's notice. Had the circumstances been different, Yura would have been intimidated; however, with everything that had happened to her that night, Yura could only twitch in annoyance. It irritated her to be treated in such a condescending way, especially from a yokai.
Yura wanted to offer some sort of retort to the Yuki-onna, but the icy block that still adorned her face could only allow a muffled garble. She compromised by leveling a seething glare at Tsurara in the hopes that the ice yokai would miraculously melt into a shallow puddle. The female yokai, however, simply ignored Yura's death stare as she began to unroll a set of bandages. Coward! You little coward! Yura yelled in her head.
She could not take it anymore. This current predicament was already messing with Yura's already fragile state of mind. With a heaving gasp, the young onmyouji tore the ice block from her mouth and made a mad dash for the partially opened shoji.
"Enough of this!" Yura screamed. "I told you I'm fine!"
Having made it outside, Yura continued running through the garden of the Nura Clan Main House all while ignoring the fading protests of Tsurara. After surveying her surroundings, the onmyouji decided to take refuge in the shadow of a weeping cheery tree.
"Damn it," Yura whispered, "that girl sure doesn't mess around . . . And this mansion really was crawling with yokai after all . . ."
As Yura let her sentence trail off, her thoughts drifted back to the day when she first visited Rikuo's house. How is it possible? How could I have missed them? she asked herself. In her training to become the next successor to the Keikain style onmyuoji arts, Yura had absorbed herself in her studies, practiced the summoning of her shikigami, and worked to develop her ability at sensing spirit auras. She knew that there was something strange about this house, yet she had failed to exorcise even one single yokai. Hell, she even talked face to face with Nurarihyon, the Supreme Commander of all yokai, and did not even realize it!
So absorbed was she in her thoughts, Yura almost failed to notice the gentle shower of leaves that passed before her unfocused eyes. Regaining her composure, she followed the leaves to their origin at the top of the weeping cheery tree. It was then that Yura finally took notice of a figure in the branches, a familiar long-haired figure bathed in the light of the waxing moon.
…
Rikuo Nura was tired, and rightly so. What should have been an ordinary night – spent in the comfort of his favorite weeping cherry tree – turned into a bothersome fight with a pair of fairly skilled onmyouji. The young head of the Nura Clan scowled as the memories of that encounter resurfaced.
Damn that Keikain! thought Rikuo. Those stupid flowers stung like hell. And that partner of his was just as bad. I was pretty close to being exorcised. It was to be expected, though. Onmyouji were practitioners of the power of "yang," the perfect balance to yokai who were considered the "yin" of this world. The two forces were enemies, pure and simple. While yokai strove to instill fear into the hearts of humans, onmyouji took it upon themselves to protect their fellow man. And yet, mulled Rikuo, that bastard had no problem attacking his own sister.
Glancing into the night sky, Rikuo let his thoughts wander to the younger Keikain sibling. She was certainly an interesting one, that Yura. Despite her brother's hostility, that girl fought with all her might to protect his day form, to protect a friend from harm. And for her actions, she was badly hurt.
A grimace formed on Rikuo's face as he remembered Yura's haggard figure after being overwhelmed by her brother's shikigami. That liquid monstrosity could have killed her. It was called Gengen, right? Rikuo thought. If he ever tries that again, I'll do more than just cut him with Nenekirimaru.
With that final thought, Rikuo reclined into the tree branch and took out the pipe that he had "borrowed" from his grandfather. He spent too much time contemplating the night's events, and he just wanted to relax. Unfortunately, the young head's rest was postponed when a lone figure made itself known.
Speak of the devil.
Yura had managed to scale the weeping cherry tree and leveled Rentei at Rikuo's yokai form. Her eyes remained emotionless as she steadied the fish shikigami with her right hand.
"Oi," Rikuo stated, "that's a little dangerous, don't you think?"
"If your answer doesn't convince me," Yura warned, "I'll shoot. Nura-kun . . . are you human, or yokai?" The young girl's eyes remained firm as she waited for his answer.
The long-haired yokai gauged her for a minute, seemingly unfazed by the shikigami pointed right at him.
"I'm human during the day. But I'm yokai," he continued with a smirk, "right now, anyway."
"So you're telling me," Yura voiced cautiously, "that you're one person."
"Not convinced?" Rikuo answered. "I guess because I'm like a different person huh . . ."
Rikuo had not expected her to be won over so easily. She was an onmyouji after all. It was only natural that she would not be swayed by the words of a yokai. That is why Rikuo was honestly surprised by the words that followed his response.
"No . . . I'm convinced. What didn't make sense was you, as a yokai, saving me." Yura said softly. She continued with a smile, oblivious to Rikuo's incredulous expression, "But if it was you, Nura-kun, then everything makes sense. Yokai are what they are because they do bad things. If it's you, Nura-kun, then I can accept it. For all those times, thank you . . . for being kind, Nura-kun."
Rikuo took another look at the young girl. As she finished her monologue, her Rentei evaporated into a soft mist that seemed to catch the moonlight. The effect was almost ethereal as the onmyouji stood before him in a bluish glow. Her smile was sincere and her soft, chestnut eyes looked at him with a gentleness that he rarely saw at school.
Doki-doki.
Rikuo froze. What was that? he thought to himself. My heart thumped for a second. It was a strange feeling, one that the young head had never experienced before. His breath seemed to shorten and his chest felt tighter than usual. He tried to turn away, but for some reason, his eyes would not allow it. The longer he stared at Yura, the greater the sensation became. For the first time in his life, Rikuo Nura was scared, scared of the feelings that this girl seemed to be pulling out of him.
With his mind racing, Rikuo did the only thing that he could think of . . . and kicked the onmyouji girl out of the tree.
…
Yura barely had time to think before she was forcefully removed from the branch that she was standing on. The air seemed to rush by her as Rikuo's figure shrunk from her view. Closing her eyes, Yura braced her body for the inevitable impact.
Thankfully, Yura's contact with the ground was softer than expected. That was probably because the girl's intended trajectory was actually the pond at the base of the tree. And was it her imagination, or were there a pair of webbed hands steadying her form underwater? Finally regaining her bearings, Yura willed herself to ascend and broke through the surface with a heavy gasp.
Her anger renewed, Yura directed her attention to the yokai responsible for her fall. "WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING!" she screamed. "YOU'RE SUCH A JERK!"
The yokai in question only offered a lazy glance. "Get your ass back to Kyoto."
Yura directed a furious glare at the long-haired yokai. "That was an evil deed just now!" she exclaimed. "When I get back, I'm gonna destroy you as payback!"
"Oh?" Rikuo answered, amusement in his voice. "I'll look forward to it."
With one final glower, Yura pulled herself from the pond and headed for the house. Her clothes were soaked, and she did not fancy adding a cold to her already bitter mood. She did not even spare the newly arrived Tsurara a passing glance. Ignoring the Yuki-onna's baffled expression, Yura simply contemplated ways in which to exorcise Rikuo's yokai form.
Slowing her pace, Yura rethought her words. Okay, maybe exorcism is too harsh, the girl mused. He did save me three times already. I'll just make him do something embarrassing . . .
The young onmyouji's eyes narrowed as her mouth contorted into an evil grin. She would have plenty in store for him when she returned from Kyoto. Visions ran through her head about what she could do to the arrogant yokai, and most of them included a combination of a collar, a maid's outfit, her wolf shikigami, Tanrou, and a whip. But before Yura's fantasies could get any more outrageous, she was interrupted by the very yokai she swore sweet revenge on.
"OI!"
"What is it?" Yura demanded. He better have had a good reason to disrupt her ruminations.
"Want me to go with you back to Kyoto?" yokai Rikuo asked. He held his pipe away from his mouth, waiting for an answer.
Yura was dumbfounded. What was he playing at? After kicking her out of the tree, he was now asking if she wanted his company as she ventured back home.
"Why would I want that?" she asked incredulously. "No way!"
With one final huff, Yura reentered the house in the hopes of finding some dry clothes. She was soaked to the bone and was finally feeling the chill of the night air.
"AH-CHOOO!"
Yura sniffled as she recovered from the sneeze. Damn it! she thought. As if this night couldn't get any worse . . .
"Oh my!" a tender voice exclaimed from the hallway.
Glancing to her left, Yura laid her eyes on a familiar woman carrying a stack of futons. This was the same woman who had served her tea when she first visited Rikuo's house. Hers was a voluptuous figure, made all the more apparent by her tight-fitting kimono. But what really stood out about this woman was her waist-length hair. The wavy raven locks cascaded down from her head like a waterfall of ebony. Her look alone was enough to entice even the coldest of men.
Yura backed away and raised a shikigami. "You're a yokai as well, aren't you?" she asked cautiously. Yura's pose would have seemed more intimidating had she not sneezed again and dropped her shikigami.
"AH-CHOOO! AH-CHOOO!"
A soft smile graced the woman's face as she set the futons on the ground. Yura began to back-peddle until she made contact with the shoji. Her eyes stayed focused on the woman who was advancing ever-closer. Reaching into her pocket, Yura prepared to take out more shikigami when the figure before her spoke.
"Hello there," the woman greeted. "You're Keikain-san, the young Master's onmyouji friend, aren't you? It's a pleasure!"
Despite the warm welcome, Yura was still wary and kept her fingers on her shikigami. "You still haven't answered my question," stated the young girl.
With a small chuckle, the woman answered, "Yes, yes, I'm a yokai, and my name is Kejoro. Please don't be alarmed. The young Master instructed everyone not to harm you. You're safe here, so please don't worry."
Hesitantly, Yura asked, "Nura-kun said that?"
"Of course. In fact, he threatened to kill anyone who so much as put a scratch on you," the yokai replied. She then narrowed her eyes and continued in an insinuating manner, "You must be 'very' special to him."
The emphasis of that one word was not lost to the young onmyouji. Unbidden, Yura felt her face heat up as a rosy blush accentuated her pale cheeks.
"W-W-WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" Yura screamed. "STOP TALKING ABOUT SUCH NONSENSE!"
Yura could barely wrap her head around what this yokai was implying. Her, a descendant of the Keikain family, special to "him," the grandson of Nurarihyon! It was preposterous, not to mention that she found Rikuo's yokai side to be a complete jerk. In fact, she began to mentally list all of the things that she found detestable about the subject in question.
One: He was an arrogant jerk.
Two: He kicked her out of the tree.
Three: . . . He was an arrogant jerk.
Four: . . . He . . . he . . . Yura could not think of anything else.
Crap! she thought. There was nothing else she could use to justify her current hatred of the long-haired, robe-clad yokai. Drained of all her energy, Yura simply slumped to the ground in a tired heap.
"Hey now," Kejoro whispered softly, transforming from mischievous minx to mannerly mother. "We can't have you falling asleep in these wet clothes. Come on. I'll get the bath ready. Most everyone's out on the town tonight, so you should have it all to yourself."
The young onmyouji did not even care anymore. Too exhausted to argue, Yura allowed herself to be escorted to the bath. Oh well, she thought, maybe I can finally get some peace of mind.
Unfortunately for Yura, she failed to notice the ghost of a smirk pass over the yokai's face.
…
It was infuriating. For the past half hour since his spat with Yura, Rikuo could not sit still. No matter how many times he tried, he just could not get the image of that girl out of his mind. He kept replaying the scene over and over in his mind.
What the hell happened? Rikuo asked himself. Why did I react like that? Since the blood of Nurarihyon awoke within the young head, he had never felt fear the likes of which he experienced tonight. No matter the opponent, Rikuo had been the one to invoke his fear and overcome any adversary that threatened him or his friends. From the wise and experienced Gyuki to the deranged and power-hungry Tamazuki, Rikuo had found the strength and the will to surpass them all. But this girl, this one human girl managed to tear a hole in his iron-clad defenses.
Yura Keikain.
Doki-doki.
"DAMN IT!" Rikuo screamed. He had enough. Pondering the enigma that was the onmyouji girl was only giving him a headache. After one last puff of his grandfather's pipe, the long-haired yokai jumped down from the weeping cherry tree and headed inside.
As Rikuo entered the corridors of the main house, he noticed the lack of activity in the normally boisterous abode. If he had been in his day form, the young head may have considered it eerie. As it was, he was simply glad that things were quiet for once.
Making his way into the kitchen, Rikuo happened upon Kejoro, who seemed to be pouring herself a cup of tea.
"Young Master," Kejoro remarked once she noticed his presence, "how are you feeling? Fancy a cup of tea?"
"No thanks, Kejoro." Rikuo answered with a sigh. He was exhausted, and he showed it by collapsing on the tatami in front of the kitchen table.
The hair yokai regarded the successor of the clan with a raised eyebrow. It was rare for Rikuo's night form to express any weakness, much less fatigue. Her interest piqued, Kejoro prodded the boy whom she considered like a little brother.
"Something wrong?" she asked. "You seem tired."
Rikuo turned his attention to the woman who now seated herself directly across from him. After taking a quick sip of her tea, she flashed the boy a quick smile and cocked her head slightly, waiting for a response.
"I'm not sure . . ." Rikuo began.
"Come on," insisted the female yokai. "You know that you can tell me anything." Rikuo could not help but agree with those words. Kejoro was like the older sister he never had. In the past, he would always go to her with problems that he was uncomfortable discussing with his grandfather or mother. Maybe she could discern the feelings that he had been having.
"I . . . well . . . it's . . . it's just really strange. I've just been feeling really strange ever since I talked to Yura." As soon as he mentioned the onmyouji girl, Kejoro's eyes lit up like fireworks during a summer festival.
"Really . . ." the hair yokai interrupted. "That's interesting. Go on."
Eying the woman across from him warily, Rikuo continued, "Yeah . . . I don't know what to make of it. I can vaguely remember feeling like this while in my day form. It's just been happening recently, and I'm pretty sure it's all because of that girl. Whenever I think about her, my chest tightens and it becomes harder to breathe. And when I see her, my mind races. I can't seem to think properly when it comes to her. To be honest, it . . . it . . . it scares me."
Kejoro was momentarily taken aback. This was unexpected. Rikuo, grandson of the Supreme Commander, was scared! Although Kejoro had an idea about what Rikuo was truly feeling, she halted her thoughts and continued to listen with rapt attention.
"It scares me," Rikuo stated, "to know that this girl can affect me in ways that even the strongest of yokai can't. What is this girl? Why does she make me feel this way? I can't help but think that she's really a yokai in disguise. . ."
After Rikuo uttered that last sentence, Kejoro couldn't help but let out a jovial laugh.
"Hey, what's so funny?" demanded Rikuo as his face began to glow.
Once Kejoro calmed down, she took a long, hard look at the yokai in front of her. My, my, she thought. You really are too cute Rikuo. The person in front of her may have been destined to become the Supreme Commander of all yokai, but he was still a boy, an innocent boy who had yet to fully grasp matters of the heart. It depressed Kejoro a bit to know that the young boy she used to take care of was now growing up. But that was life, and the female yokai knew that there was no way to stop the flow of time.
After taking another sip of her tea, she gave Rikuo a warm smile and responded, "I'm sorry Rikuo, but this is a question that I can't answer for you. This is something that you have to realize on your own. But I can assure you that it isn't something bad. I promise."
Even yokai knew the value of love. Though they were beings born from the shadows, they too knew what it meant to cherish another.
Rikuo seemed to deflate back into the tatami once his sister figure said her piece. If Kejoro would not answer him, then he gave up. It was not worth it.
"Well," Kejoro said in an overly happy tone, "why don't you take a bath to get your mind off things? I already prepared it for myself, but it seems like you could use it more."
Rikuo took a second to consider her offer. A long, hot soak in the grand bath sounded like a dream, and he was hoping for a chance to finally rid his thoughts of the onmyouji girl.
"Thanks, Kejoro," replied Rikuo. "I'll take you up on that."
As Rikuo headed off to the bath, Kejoro couldn't help but smirk mischievously. Although she did not want to tell Rikuo outright what his feelings were, the hair yokai had no qualms about pushing him toward the answer . . . literally.
…
After getting out of the bath, Yura felt refreshed. There was just nothing like a relaxing soak to make all of her worries dissipate. Even her annoyance towards Rikuo was long forgotten.
Grabbing the towel left by Kejoro, Yura proceeded to dry her damp hair. As much as she hated to admit it, she liked that hair yokai. Not only had she prepared the bath, but she also offered Yura a set of spare pajamas while she washed the girl's clothes. I wish more yokai were like her, mused Yura. With her body finally dry, the female onmyouji set down the towel and reached for her pajamas.
Now, Yura was not one to believe in luck. She was the type of person who made things happen by her abilities alone. But today, it seemed as if some god of misfortune was picking on her especially. There was no other explanation for everything that had happened to her. Some god of misfortune somewhere in Ukiyoe Town was so bored that he just had to torture some random onmyouji girl from Kyoto. That could explain why it was at this moment in time that the fusuma slid open to reveal yokai Rikuo clad in nothing but a towel.
For nearly a minute, the two adolescents simply stared at each other, lost for words. Under more normal circumstances, Yura probably would have screamed, but for some reason, her voice would not cooperate with her. Maybe she was just tired after all that had transpired this night, or maybe she was just too shocked to even care anymore. Regardless, the girl finally snapped out of her trance and broke the heavy silence.
"I . . . I'll be ready in a bit," she managed to stammer out. "Can you wait outside for a while?"
"Y-yeah," answered Rikuo in a strained voice.
Their exchange concluded, Rikuo closed the fusuma and went to fetch some tissues. For some reason, his nose was bleeding.
Yura on the other hand, quickly dressed and disappeared from the bath in such a way that would make Nurarihyon himself proud. She raced down countless corridors and ducked through various rooms before she finally lost her breath and crumpled to the ground with her head buried between her knees.
Someone dig a hole and bury me right here, pleaded Yura. She had never been so mortified in her entire life. A boy had seen her naked, and it was not just any boy. It was "him." It was that arrogant, long-haired grandson of Nurarihyon, Rikuo Nura. But what was even more humiliating was the fact that Yura had just outright stared at him in all his towel-clad glory . . . and enjoyed it!
Kami! She enjoyed it. Although she focused most of her time on her onmyouji arts, Yura Keikain would be lying if she said that she did not have an appreciation for the male species. Yokai Rikuo may have not been excessively muscular, but his arms were fit and his abs were toned. Like a Roman god chiseled in marble, Rikuo's body was one that would turn even the most proper of Japanese women into a raving fan girl.
But what enraptured Yura the most were his eyes. They were orbs of deep crimson that seemed to penetrate her very soul. Though those eyes were usually filled with strength and determination, Yura managed to see a different side of those eyes just moments ago. In the bath, they were innocent, vulnerable eyes that expressed genuine surprise, and had the onmyouji not been in a state of undress, she would have swooned.
A fierce blush spread across Yura's face as she dwelled on the encounter. There was no way she could face Rikuo after that.
"Keikain-san," a soft voice stated, "are you all right?"
Yura lifted her face to gaze upon the hair yokai that was standing above her. The woman looked almost apologetic, but for what, Yura was not sure.
"I'd rather not talk about it," Yura mumbled into her arms.
"It's something to do with the young Master, doesn't it?" Kejoro reasoned softly.
Yura tensed, but she refused to offer a response. There was no way she could talk to a yokai about her problems.
The hair yokai simply smiled and continued saying, "Please don't worry too much. The young Master of the night is hard to approach sometimes. He is certainly different from his day form, that's for sure."
What Kejoro just said caused Yura to start. Though she had confronted the long-haired yokai about the same idea earlier that night, she was still unsure. Were human Rikuo and yokai Rikuo truly one in the same? She wanted to know the truth.
Kejoro decided to answer Yura's unasked question. "If you really want to know more about him," the yokai said, "I suggest you talk to his human side. He is certainly more truthful and agreeable in that form."
"Y-yeah," Yura responded with a yawn, "I guess I will."
"For now though," Kejoro asserted, "you should get some rest. There's already a futon in this room, and I'll make sure no one disturbs you here."
"Thank you," Yura whispered as sleep slowly started to claim her. The events of the night had finally taken their toll on the young girl, and she was looking forward to a much-needed respite. She would tackle her troubles in the morning.
…
It was quite late by the time Rikuo finished his bath. He wandered down the main corridor of the house looking for a certain hair yokai.
Damn that Kejoro! cursed Rikuo. She knew that Yura was in the bath, and she purposefully tricked him just so that they would meet. Rikuo could feel his face grow warm as he remembered the image of the onmyouji girl.
Steam permeated the air of the grand bath, but the young girl's figure was still distinguishable through the light mist. Although Rikuo knew that Yura was fit, he would never have guessed that she had such an athletic figure. Those school uniforms really were quite deceiving. Her lean muscles were probably honed through years of study in the onmyouji arts. After all, one had to be physically capable to be able to square off against yokai.
Despite her nimble form, Rikuo was surprised to find just how pale her skin was, though not in an unhealthy way. Rather, her skin was a dazzling white, akin to that of porcelain. She was like a fragile doll that would easily break if handled in the wrong hands. If Rikuo handled her, he would definitely be gentle, especially with her br-
STOP! Rikuo yelled in his head. DO NOT GO THERE! DO NOT LET YOUR THOUGHTS GO THERE!
So lost was Rikuo in his thoughts that he almost ran into the very yokai he was looking for.
"Kejoro!" Rikuo exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the hair yokai. "Why the hell did you do that?"
Rikuo's sister figure looked at the young head with the most innocent look she could muster, complete with puppy dog eyes.
"Do what?" she asked.
"You know what I mean!" Rikuo croaked out. "Yura . . . the bath . . . Yura . . ."
"Oh that . . ." Kejoro trailed off. "I figured you would find the answer to your question if you spent more time together."
Rikuo was truly at a loss for words. What was his caretaker trying to do to him? It was bad enough that these strange feelings kept swirling around within the troubled yokai. Now Kejoro was simply adding fuel to the fire. Rikuo was surprised that he had not gone mad yet.
"Fine," Rikuo stated gruffly as he rubbed his forehead with his left hand. "I don't care anymore. I just want to get some sleep."
"Good," Kejoro said with a smile. "There should be an extra futon in your room, considering Keikain-san is already sleeping in yours . . ."
"Okay then," Rikuo remarked.
It took all of ten seconds for Rikuo to process what Kejoro had just told him. His eyes widened and his face paled as he rounded on the female yokai.
"WHAT?" Rikuo exclaimed.
Kejoro merely raised an eyebrow. "You heard me," she answered, "and keep your voice down. She's already sleeping. Or would you rather it be the one futon? If that's the case, then I'm not going to be the one to explain to Wakana-sama why she suddenly became a grandmother."
"Kejoro," Rikuo managed through gritted teeth, "you know what I mean."
With a sigh, Kejoro whispered, "That girl is exhausted Rikuo. There is no way she is going home in her condition at this time of the night. Also, even though you trust your subordinates, there are those who hold hostile feelings toward humans, especially one who is an onmyouji. The safest place for her to be right now is right by your side . . . and who knows? Maybe you'll be able to discover what it is that you're truly feeling."
After hearing her explanation, Rikuo could not argue with her. Tired and defeated, Rikuo could only comply to his caretaker's wishes. "All right, all right, I understand . . . thanks Kejoro. Goodnight."
The hair yokai smiled softly. "Goodnight, young Master."
With that, Kejoro departed and Rikuo entered his room. He surveyed the familiar surroundings. His desk was situated on the left side of the room, adorned with the clutter of various school supplies. Bookshelves lined the right wall, filled mostly with a variety of shonen manga. And in the center of the tatami lay two futons, as well as the girl that had been driving him crazy for the past few hours.
Rikuo took a seat near Yura's head and took a moment to study her. The moonlight filtered perfectly through the shoji and settled on the onmyouji's face, giving her a subtle glow. Thanks to the light, the young head could see all of her features perfectly. She looked peaceful as she laid there in the throes of a light slumber.
Her eyelashes were thin and looked like fine thread. They were perfect for her pale skin. Her nose was petite, like a button. It was barely noticeable in the faint light. But what drew Rikuo's attention the most were Yura's lips. They were small and had a soft pinkish hue to them. As he continued to stare, those lips parted softly to let out a quiet breath.
Gulping slightly, Rikuo found his face drawing ever closer to Yura.
Discover what I'm truly feeling? Rikuo asked himself. After gazing at the angelic face beneath him, the young head was beginning to understand.
I think I already know the answer. But it can't be, can it? It's too fast. It's . . . Rikuo's thoughts trailed off as he focused on the girl's lips one more time. They were but a breath away. He could almost taste her . . .
No . . . Rikuo reasoned. He pulled his head back. Not like this. I need to be sure. I need to talk to her . . . when I'm human.
As Rikuo settled back into his futon, he took one last look at the girl sleeping beside him. With a gentle smile, he closed his eyes and began to dream strange dreams . . . of yokai, onmyouji, and bath towels.
…
Author's Notes: Well, here's the first chapter of my first ever piece of fanfiction. I really enjoyed writing this, and I plan for this to have at least two more chapters. Unfortunately, due to college starting again, I don't know when I'll have the time to finish this. I WILL finish this though, no doubt.
Comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism are appreciated. After all, that's the only way I can get better.
Catch ya later!
Vocab:
yin and yang - two opposing forces in traditional Chinese philosophy and medicine (e.g. yin = dark/evil, yang = light/good)
shoji - sliding and portable doors made of paper and wood
kimono - a traditional Japanese garment worn by men, women, and children
tatami - a traditional type of Japanese flooring consisting of mats made of rice straw to form the core, with a covering of woven soft rush (igusa) straw
fusuma - vertical rectangular panels which can slide from side to side to redefine spaces within a room, or act as doors
futon - Japanese bedding consisting of padded mattresses and quilts pliable enough to be folded and stored away during the day, allowing the room to serve for purposes other than as a bedroom