Disclaimer: I do not own furuba, nor am I making any sort of profit. Just borrowing the characters to enact my dark fantasies .
The sakura trees were blooming
Delicate puffs of pink, tipping the barren branches
Petals drifting, like snow, to the ground.
A tree, cordoned off with straw rope.
A lady, black hair, like silk, pooling around her.
Her silk kimono, layered ten deep in the Heian style, the sleeve and hem tinged silver
The piercing sound of a flute as the wind slipped between the tree's branches
The ground throbbed like a heartbeat, or drums.
Petals swirled, deeper, thicker, closer.
She drew closer to the woman.
Faltering steps, fluttering breeze, pounding heart.
Petals, faster, closer, obscuring her vision
A kimono sleeve, like a breeze, came across her face.
Behind her, the woman spoke, softly into her ear
She opened her mouth to reply
Petals filled her throat
Sweet, melting like snowflakes
A peach, its soft flesh brushed her lips, juices dripped from her mouth
The woman leaned forward, soft lips like petals on her skin, licking the nectar from her throat, her lips, her mouth.
Tohru woke up gasping. She flushed, raising her hand to her mouth, experimentally licking her lips, sweet, they tasted sweet. What an odd dream. Tohru ran her hands sleepily through her hair. The sky was just beginning to glow as the sun rose above the horizon. A chill breeze smelling like the dew and damp earth of early morning swirled fitfully around the room, she'd left the window open. Shivering as she padded barefoot along the unheated wooden floor, she reached the window and drew it shut. The air in the room stilled, quieted. Quickly, Tohru stripped off her pajamas and stepped into her school clothes. In the bathroom, she scrubbed her face with a wet washcloth, but she still had this faint, cobwebby dreamy sensation. Frowning, she stuck her whole head under the faucet, letting the icy water pour over her, tilting her head so that it ran over her entire face, "c-cold" she grimaced, wide awake, water running in rivulets down her chin. Looking into the mirror, she tied her hair back with a blue ribbon her mother had given her when she was small and stepped out of the bathroom, going over the breakfast menu in her head.
"Ah, Tohru-kun, good mor-"
Startled, Toru raised her head, tripping as she did so, she was on a straight course for Yuki's chest, arms flailing for balance, she tried desperately to recover, or at least fall in another direction.
Yuki took a quick step backwards, bracing himself as he caught Tohru by her shoulders, stopping her mere inches from his chest. Her hair swung forward across his face. Kami, it flowed, like silk, like water. Cool and sensuous, he let his eye drift close for a moment and felt his breath catch in his chest. Her face was right next to his. Her lips close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek. So close, everything was so close. He leaned in, ignoring everything else. For just this moment, just these few moments, he could pretend.
"Yuki-kun?" at the sound of her tremulous voice, his eyes opened. She was looking at him, confusion darkening her soft brown eyes, and a soft blush rising in her pale cheeks.
Swallowing harshly, he straightened, setting her gently back on her feet.
"Thank you for catching me Yuki-kun" she said softly, lowering her eyes, the flush in her cheeks becoming deeper, rosier.
"It was nothing, please be careful though, Tohru-kun, I don't want you to get hurt." He replied, the words more for him than for her. What was he doing, what the hell was he doing? He hurried past her into the bathroom, sliding the door shut behind him. He leaned his forehead against the mirror, it was cool and smooth against the heat of his skin. He had to stop doing this. It was difficult enough to control his thoughts. Impossible if he touched her. Images raced through his head. If he had closed the space between them, brushed her lips with his. Would those sighing lips have opened, yielded, would they taste sweet like the strawberries they grew together? Would she shiver, would she moan as he touched her. Oh, and how he could touch her, smooth gliding strokes, skin against skin, uninterrupted by clothes so easily ripped away, to finally see, to feel, what he had spent so long dreaming and imagining. Stop it. No, he told himself, savagely, he was supposed to be protecting her, not having these thoughts. She was pure and sweet and good, but lately, all he could think about . . .
He laughed harshly, lowly and punched his hand through the bathroom door, ripping paper and bamboo. They scratched against his knuckles, leaving thin, red lines of blood. It was a good thing he had the cat to fight with for distraction, or he'd have gone insane or destroyed the house by now. He turned the tap on and stuck his hand underneath it, letting the water numb the cuts. Just focus on the cold, on the pain. It had become a mantra.
A/N: This story will get very dark, the theme is in the title. So you've been warned.
The sakura trees were blooming
Delicate puffs of pink, tipping the barren branches
Petals drifting, like snow, to the ground.
A tree, cordoned off with straw rope.
A lady, black hair, like silk, pooling around her.
Her silk kimono, layered ten deep in the Heian style, the sleeve and hem tinged silver
The piercing sound of a flute as the wind slipped between the tree's branches
The ground throbbed like a heartbeat, or drums.
Petals swirled, deeper, thicker, closer.
She drew closer to the woman.
Faltering steps, fluttering breeze, pounding heart.
Petals, faster, closer, obscuring her vision
A kimono sleeve, like a breeze, came across her face.
Behind her, the woman spoke, softly into her ear
She opened her mouth to reply
Petals filled her throat
Sweet, melting like snowflakes
A peach, its soft flesh brushed her lips, juices dripped from her mouth
The woman leaned forward, soft lips like petals on her skin, licking the nectar from her throat, her lips, her mouth.
Tohru woke up gasping. She flushed, raising her hand to her mouth, experimentally licking her lips, sweet, they tasted sweet. What an odd dream. Tohru ran her hands sleepily through her hair. The sky was just beginning to glow as the sun rose above the horizon. A chill breeze smelling like the dew and damp earth of early morning swirled fitfully around the room, she'd left the window open. Shivering as she padded barefoot along the unheated wooden floor, she reached the window and drew it shut. The air in the room stilled, quieted. Quickly, Tohru stripped off her pajamas and stepped into her school clothes. In the bathroom, she scrubbed her face with a wet washcloth, but she still had this faint, cobwebby dreamy sensation. Frowning, she stuck her whole head under the faucet, letting the icy water pour over her, tilting her head so that it ran over her entire face, "c-cold" she grimaced, wide awake, water running in rivulets down her chin. Looking into the mirror, she tied her hair back with a blue ribbon her mother had given her when she was small and stepped out of the bathroom, going over the breakfast menu in her head.
"Ah, Tohru-kun, good mor-"
Startled, Toru raised her head, tripping as she did so, she was on a straight course for Yuki's chest, arms flailing for balance, she tried desperately to recover, or at least fall in another direction.
Yuki took a quick step backwards, bracing himself as he caught Tohru by her shoulders, stopping her mere inches from his chest. Her hair swung forward across his face. Kami, it flowed, like silk, like water. Cool and sensuous, he let his eye drift close for a moment and felt his breath catch in his chest. Her face was right next to his. Her lips close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek. So close, everything was so close. He leaned in, ignoring everything else. For just this moment, just these few moments, he could pretend.
"Yuki-kun?" at the sound of her tremulous voice, his eyes opened. She was looking at him, confusion darkening her soft brown eyes, and a soft blush rising in her pale cheeks.
Swallowing harshly, he straightened, setting her gently back on her feet.
"Thank you for catching me Yuki-kun" she said softly, lowering her eyes, the flush in her cheeks becoming deeper, rosier.
"It was nothing, please be careful though, Tohru-kun, I don't want you to get hurt." He replied, the words more for him than for her. What was he doing, what the hell was he doing? He hurried past her into the bathroom, sliding the door shut behind him. He leaned his forehead against the mirror, it was cool and smooth against the heat of his skin. He had to stop doing this. It was difficult enough to control his thoughts. Impossible if he touched her. Images raced through his head. If he had closed the space between them, brushed her lips with his. Would those sighing lips have opened, yielded, would they taste sweet like the strawberries they grew together? Would she shiver, would she moan as he touched her. Oh, and how he could touch her, smooth gliding strokes, skin against skin, uninterrupted by clothes so easily ripped away, to finally see, to feel, what he had spent so long dreaming and imagining. Stop it. No, he told himself, savagely, he was supposed to be protecting her, not having these thoughts. She was pure and sweet and good, but lately, all he could think about . . .
He laughed harshly, lowly and punched his hand through the bathroom door, ripping paper and bamboo. They scratched against his knuckles, leaving thin, red lines of blood. It was a good thing he had the cat to fight with for distraction, or he'd have gone insane or destroyed the house by now. He turned the tap on and stuck his hand underneath it, letting the water numb the cuts. Just focus on the cold, on the pain. It had become a mantra.
A/N: This story will get very dark, the theme is in the title. So you've been warned.