A/N: I'm writing again! I didn't think I actually would. This is an adaptation of a story I wrote for a livejournal community. During the writing process it often brought to mind the Karasu/Kurama pairing so I thought I'd give this a try.
The sun hung low on the horizon painting the tobacco fields a deep red. A lone figure paced the furrowed rows. He blended perfectly into the heavenly scene. His hair shown with a fiery sheen all its own. Even his eyes sparkled, a stunning emerald green. This beauty dressed in white had no destination in mind. A breeze raced across the Carolina countryside just to caress this one's cheek, bringing a subtle blush to the skin.
"Kurama! Come in! Supper's ready!"
Kurama grumbled. He wasn't hungry. He had no desire to obey his mother but he knew he should all the same. His father always criticized his scrawniness so he figured he'd better eat. He relished the last of the fresh air before heading inside. As he climbed the steps onto the vast porch of the plantation house, Kurama had to admit that dinner smelled absolutely mouthwatering.
When he entered the dining room, the whole family already sat around the table. Henrietta, one of the house slaves, was just setting down the last dish of food.
"You're late," Kurama's father admonished sternly.
"I'm sorry, father. I lost track of time."
"Well, let's say grace," his mother cut in in attempt to avoid an argument.
The family clasped their hands and bowed their heads while Kurama's father said the prayer of thanks for the meal.
At the word 'amen' Kurama eagerly dug into his piece of roasted chicken. Seeing the tender meat surrounded with mashed potatoes and collard greens, all smothered in gravy perked his appetite.
"Wow, Kurama. You really seem hungry today. I guess finally getting out of the house made you work up an appetite," Kurama's older sister, Eleanor, commented.
Kurama had to swallow before replying. "I suppose so. Still, I'd like to play the piano for a little bit before I go to sleep. I just don't feel right going through a whole day without playing."
Marie, the oldest of the three Scarborough children, spoke up. "You know Kurama, you really should find something more interesting to do. No woman is ever going to want to marry you at this rate."
"Now Marie, Kurama is only 15. He still has a lot of growing up yet."
Kurama smiled. His mother always came to his rescue. He hadn't minded Maire's comment so much. It was mostly his father that worried him. Kurama couldn't help but feel inadequate under his father's glare. He knew he was a less than ideal heir. He wanted to please his parents but he also wanted to be true to his own character. He wasn't the strong, manly son his father hoped for.
"Have you heard about the man that bought the old Smith plantation?"
All present shook their heads 'no' and waited for Mr. Scarborough to explain.
"He seems like a real gentleman. He's a veteran too. He fought in the War of 1812."
Marie's face fell. She was obviously hoping that the man would be young and handsome but the War of 1812 was almost 30 years ago.
"Does he seem nice?" Kurama asked. "I'd love hear his stories from the War."
"You know, Kurama. I hope you spend time with him. I think he would be a good role model for you."
"Maybe. May I be excused. I'd like to have my piano practice now."
NOTE: This is just a prologue thingy to let you know where I'm going with this. Hopefully you will find it intriguing enough to continue reading and comment.