Yu-Gi-Oh! is owned by Kazuki Takahashi. Mostly.
Enter
Otogi had visited the museum more times in a single week than he had his whole life. Now, on the last day of his visit to Domino City, he entered through the doors of the building and headed straight for the marble corridor on his left, no longer needing to stop to pick up a directory or a flyer of upcoming events. He didn't need to know the whole museum; there was only one room he was interested in. He passed through several galleries, appearing as if he were walking down a school hallway or crowded street, hand in pocket to show he was relaxed and head held high to show he was only interested in the best.
After gliding by one or two stares in his direction, Otogi slowed down and his expression changed. He still tried to maintain an appearance of mild interest in what was around him, but his heart quickened as each step took him closer and closer to the final gallery on that wing. He knew he couldn't turn back now. He couldn't see her yet, but he knew that she could see him and was pulling him in, like a siren lures sailors with her song.
He peered around. No one was in the room with him. Up ahead he could see no one. The only sound was the steady click of his shoes, then a scoff of one heel that revealed his nervousness.
He crossed over into the room and turned to the wall. The quiet surrounded him and buzzed in his ears.
His eyes were taken captive.
He had been afraid every time he came to the cool, abandoned room that she would be missing, stolen by some other who was entranced with her. He was always proved wrong; every time she was there waiting. This time was no different. He approached slowly. Her beauty seemed to magnify with each inch lost. Otogi stopped a few feet away from the frame; he had never dared to go closer. He fought the temptation to reach out one of his long, thin arms. A part of him grumbled that he was being stupid as he stood there, uncharacteristically reverent, but it was a voice that was gradually giving up with each visitation.
He dared to tilt his head back and gaze at the top of the painting. There was no halo above the woman's head, but her thick, golden hair gushing out of her head and all about her was an appropriate substitute. Next he looked into her eyes, a violet so vibrant it made him almost jealous that his couldn't be so. Her irises had been placed in a wide sphere in which he found a new expression with each visit: coyness, determination, a sadness hidden by pride. Last time he had found that the mix of attitudes in her eyes had spread to her lips. They were set as straight as a line as always, but he thought he saw a faint trace of a muscle working in her cheek, not sure if she should grin or smirk.
It was difficult to pull his eyes away from her round, smooth face, but below her defiant chin was a beauty far more striking than her face. The woman sat confident on a throne, pale white arms sitting upon armrests of gold and her back resting on plush red velvet behind her. She had no scepter, no rings. She wore nothing; whoever had painted her knew that no earthly clothing would suit her. Up her bare arms Otogi's eyes went, tracing a path across her faintly protruding collarbone down across her ribs. He took in the sight of her large breasts, his heart racing not because of the flesh, but the way they were displayed proudly and without shame. It was a pure pride with arrogance slowly seeping in.
Her belly was the opposite. Instead of pride, the small, rounded area held an air of caring that he could find no where else in her body. The curve of fat above her pelvis was gentle, soothing him. It was with regret that slipped away from it and continued his adoration of her, his eyes falling down to her knees. They were held together tightly, the only part of her body that betrayed a feeling close to fear. Seeing them always made him forget the rest of her for a moment and filled him with sympathy and a desire to protect. If she were real--
Otogi was pulled away from his thoughts by the sound of giggles. He turned around sharply, but saw no one. As he stood there, not yet wanting to leave the painting – they had been together for such a short time - he listened as the footsteps drew closer, the sound of two schoolgirls' gibberish growing louder. He wanted to shout at them to leave before they even approached the room. He didn't. Their time was ruined. But he couldn't just leave so soon; he didn't know when he'd be back in the city.
The steps grew closer. Otogi took a deep breath and closed the distance between him and the woman. He lifted his finger to her lips, where he knew a smile must have been forming, and touched them. He quickly retracted his finger from the canvas and turned.
He walked coolly past the girls as they came in, blushing and giggling at the sight of him. He made his way steadily back to the entrance, but when he placed his hand on the door to push it open, he found that he couldn't will himself to do it.
He'd go back one more time.
End