(Edit: This story was originally published under an 'M' rating, but has been modified to fit into the K-T filter.)
Crack.
Two parts of an eggshell sailed across the room, both landing in the sink.
Crack.
Another eggshell joined the pair.
Crack.
The third eggshell soared in the air... and barely missed its mark; instead, sliding across the countertop onto the linoleum.
"Damn it."
Nineteen year old Ichigo Momomiya sauntered over to the dropped eggshell, picked it off the ground, and lazily lobbed it back in the sink, where the rest of the shells awaited the jaws of the garbage disposal. Ichigo went back to the stove, where she pushed the eggs around in the pan. Today, she was alone in her apartment. Lettuce, who had been her roommate for the past year, had gone home for the weekend. This meant Ichigo was free to play the pop songs she liked as loud as she liked, and make scrambled eggs at one in the morning without being questioned.
If only every weekend could be like this, Ichigo thought. Not that Lettuce was a disagreeable person-she wasn't-but Ichigo found herself relishing the moments where she had the place to herself. Her second year in the local college's nursing program was tough. She had spent many a night staying awake until the sun came up, studying for this or that exam. It was worth it, though. Ichigo knew that her career would be worthwhile. She would care for her fellow human beings in a way that didn't involve growing cat ears.
She smirked at the thought. Cat ears. Haven't seen those for a while.
Leaning over the pan, Ichigo poked at one of the chunks of scrambled egg, testing for consistency. It was hotter than she thought. She hissed, recoiling and sucking on her finger, then wiping it on her oversized t-shirt. Another upside to being alone: not having a roommate to worry over you constantly hurting yourself, or telling you to put on pants when you wear long t-shirts.
Ichigo clicked off the stove and walked over to her cabinets, where she pulled out a plate and spooned the eggs onto it. She set the eggs down on the counter and was about to grab a fork when she felt something strange. The atmosphere in the room had shifted slightly. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Had she locked the door? Yes, Ichigo told herself, Yes, I locked the door. Ghosts, maybe? Angry spirits?
Ichigo had frozen stiff. She was terrified to look around her. Her eyes darted around the space in front of her, but she could not will her body to turn around. She knew something was wrong. Her acute, still intact feline senses gave away the presence of something else in the room.
Ichigo's breath was shallow, palms sweating cold. She stood for what seemed like ages before she heard faint breathing. Something snapped in her, screaming at her to move, and she whirled around to face...
Darkness.
Everything had gone foggy and Ichigo could barely make out the shapes of her apartment fading into the distance, as though she were falling into the space behind her. Falling, falling...
And then she woke up.
Slowly, at first, and then all at once she jolted up in bed. It was not her bed. It was not a bed she had ever seen before. Lavish pillows and an ornate oak headboard, a down comforter curled around her body. The sight both shocked and pleased her. She had half expected to wake up in a concrete basement chained to a wall. Then again, the other half had expected her to wake up in her own bed to find out it was all a bad dream.
What's going on? Ichigo thought to herself. Where am I?
At first, she didn't know if she should get up. The alcove her bed was placed in separated it from the rest of the room, but, noting that the room did not have a door, and observing the furniture around her, Ichigo could tell that this was not an apartment. It had to be a hotel room. This only served to further confuse her. Why a hotel room? She immediately began to translate the scenario as best as she could.
Deciding that lying in wait was not going to do her much good, Ichigo rose from bed, noting that yes, she was still wearing the panties and shirt she had on when she left, and no, her body did not feel in any way defiled or beaten. If these people were rapists, at least they had the decency to wait until she was conscious.
She listened, trying to make out any noise from the surrounding rooms. She couldn't hear a thing. Maybe the people who brought her here were sleeping. Deciding to chance it, Ichigo crept on her tip toes around the corner of the alcove. A quick glance to the right told her that yes, she was in a hotel room, judging by the bizarre, heavy door and the fire escape map . . . in French? Well there goes her plans for escaping without help. Ichigo almost flunked out of high school English. There was no way she was getting anywhere with no money in a foreign place that has French as a first language. She furrowed her brows and turned her head to her left.
What greeted her took her breath away. The room opened up into a living area that had a glass wall overlooking the city-a city which Ichigo could not mistake for anything else but Paris, France. The room had a perfect view of the city lights illuminating the streets, the Eiffel Tower perched low on the horizon a few blocks away. The magnificent structure was lit up along with the bright city it inhabited. It was a view Ichigo had only dreamed of seeing in her lifetime.
For a moment she forgot about her unsavory predicament, but when it snapped back to her what she was in Paris for, and realizing that she did not have an answer for the question "Why am I in a five-star hotel in Paris", her nerves sent her back into panic mode. She was more confused than ever.
The room was still and quiet. A few chairs were set around a modern-looking table. A sofa sat to the side, and a couple armchairs sat facing the glass wall. It wasn't until Ichigo's eyes fell upon the armchairs that she realized one of them was occupied. Her chest tightened, and her hands scrunched into fists. She took two steps, and stopped.
Ichigo realized that the seated figure was awake when they exhaled sharply. She must have taken them by surprise with the sound of her movement. Good. At least she had frightened them, if only just a little. The person in the chair crossed their legs.
Then, a voice.
"Beautiful view, huh?"
Something was strangely familiar about the way the man (yes, a man, Ichigo concluded when she heard the voice) said those words. The tone of his voice made Ichigo feel an odd mix of begrudging warmth. Why?
"Who are you?" Ichigo's voice cracked. She tried to sound brave, but her voice wasn't cooperating.
"Figure it out," the voice called nonchalantly. Well, whoever this was, they weren't in a rush to get to know their captive. Ichigo felt a bit miffed at this attitude. Grudgingly, she took a few more steps towards the armchair until she was only a few feet behind the figure.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice cracking again. Damnit, she thought, you've gotta act tougher than this!
"Nothing in particular," the voice replied. This time, it was closer, and Ichigo felt the acute sting of familiarity in his tone. She raked her mind for the owner of the voice, trying to figure out who this person in front of her could be.
"Sit down," he said. He did not command harshly, but in a welcoming manner reserved for friends. That bothered Ichigo. She was reluctant to accept the notion that he could, and very well could be, someone she knew. She stood still, unmoving from her spot in blatant defiance.
"Ok, or stand. Your choice." The owner of the voice sighed deeply. That sigh. Where have I heard that? "You've always been . . . stubborn anyway."
Something clicked. Stubborn, stubborn . . . Ichigo strained to connect the word with context. She knew it held significance to this person sitting in front of her. Stubborn Ichigo . . . stubborn Momomiya-san . . . stubborn girl . . .
Suddenly, Ichigo gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth.
Stubborn kitten.
"Shit," she cussed under her breath. In one fluid motion, she took two strides around the chair and stood wide-eyed in front of a pair of liquid gold eyes, staring transfixed at her shaking, moonlit figure. Cat-like pupils narrowed into slits as he studied her expression. Finally, after an intense moment of staring, his eyes softened and a corner of his mouth turned up.
"Jesus christ, will you sit down? You're making me nervous just looking at you."
"I'm making YOU nervous?" Ichigo blurted out, both flushed and strangely relieved at the same time. "What the hell am I doing here? With you? In goddamn PARIS?" She flung her arms out towards the glass wall, gesturing dramatically at the view.
"Not a fan?" Kish said nonchalantly, steadily following Ichigo's wild eyes.
"Are you kidding me? I love Paris! I've dreamt of coming here my whole life! I'm just "not a fan" when I'm kidnapped from my home against my will and brought to a strange hotel at one in the fucking morning by some guy who I haven't seen in five years!" Ichigo shrieked, almost maniacally. Kish snorted. He was obviously suppressing a laugh.
"Just sit down. Please. You'll wear yourself out shouting like that."
Ichigo opened her mouth to scream some retort about having a "goddamn right to scream when I want", but thought better of it and plopped into the adjacent armchair from Kish. She crossed her arms and tried to look as unhappy as possible.
"Why am I here?" she hissed. Kish had taken to staring at his folded hands, no longer meeting Ichigo's gaze. In a way, Ichigo felt relieved to no longer have his sharp eyes following hers. She noticed that Kish was wearing oddly human-like apparel, dressed in dark jeans and a grey, baggy tank. She wondered to herself why.
Kish, considering Ichigo's question, shrugged.
"I guess I was bored."
At first, Ichigo was angry to receive such a frivolous answer. Then, she looked closer at Kish. No, something was wrong. She could tell by the way he sat curled slightly to himself that there was a deeper thought behind his eyes. There was something he wasn't telling her.
"No, it's not that," Ichigo said bodly. "What's going on?"
"It's no emergency if that's what you're thinking," Kish was quick to say. He paused, not sure how to follow up his statement. Ichigo was perplexed at how tongue-tied he was. It was uncharacteristic of the Kish that she knew, who was slick and easy with words. This Kish was hesitant, reluctant. Again, Ichigo found herself wondering what he was thinking, what was hindering his usual quick wit.
"Nostalgia, I guess," Kish said at last. "Thinking about the old times."
Now there was something Ichigo could relate to.
"I get that a lot," Ichigo said, "I think about being a Mew more than I'd care to admit."
Silence. After a little while, Ichigo smiled and spoke up, this time in a lighter tone.
"Remember that one time where you guys released that giant purple turtle dinosaur thing at us Mews and you thought it was the best chimera ever? And then it had the most obvious weakness in the world . . . a huge eye right on top of its shell? I mean, come on!" Ichigo let out a short laugh and Kish seemed to find it amusing, letting a low "hmmh" slip out while he smiled.
"Hey, that one wasn't as bad as the weird kangaroo thing that had one skill, and that one skill was to throw beach balls," Kish replied, snickering. Ichigo laughed.
"Oh man, that was one of the first ones we fought!"
"And one of the first ones we ever manufactured," Kish added thoughtfully. "Not exactly A-plus quality."
"That's for sure!" Ichigo added, still laughing. "Oh, what about that one time you made the creepy dancing chimera that kicked the shit out of us using ballet moves?"
"That one was awesome," Kish said, visibly growing more excited. "But not as good as the poisonous moth we hatched on the top of Tokyo tower! That was the crown jewel of our chimeras."
"Yeah, too bad I almost fell to my death that time," Ichigo laughed, her voice lacking in humor. Kish's face grew solemn again. Ichigo, sensing the tension in the air, picked her brain for something more lighthearted.
"What about the cicada chimera you made on the last day of summer? Man, that one was annoying! Not just because of the awful sound, but because I had put off all my summer homework until the last day, and I didn't have time to do any of it because of that pest!"
Kish's face lightened. "That was one of Tart's creations. He likes to make his chimeras extra annoying."
The air grew still around them once more, the warmth of the memories settling in around them. Ichigo, still smiling to herself, glanced up, only to see that Kish was already looking at her. His pupils were narrow slits in the moonlight at first, but they quickly became round and more full when Ichigo caught his eyes in hers. She blinked, and he broke eye contact, inhaling deeply, arching his back, and choosing to stare out the glass onto the cityscape.
"Your hair got long," Kish said suddenly. Ichigo couldn't help but blush. She reached up to her red locks, which now fell a few inches below her shoulders, and twirled one of the loose curls in her fingers.
"You changed wardrobes," Ichigo offered, trying to match Kish's sudden statement with one of her own. Ichigo saw Kish smirking to himself. She recognized that facial expression as one he wore many years ago, whenever he was mischievously flirting with her, as he often did. It made her stomach feel tight and bubbly at the same time.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Kish said. "It helps me blend in more. With the humans, you know." Ichigo nodded understandingly. Then, something unexpected: "I noticed you've decided to not wear pants."
Ichigo was crimson. She yanked at the hem of her large size shirt to force it futher down her bare thighs. Flustered, she sputtered, "Well you didn't exactly give me a warning! You know, you could've just said, 'Hey Ichigo let's hang out sometime' and I could have gotten all nice and ready and packed a bag to stay in Paris for the weekend! But no, you just whisk me off unannounced in the middle of the night in my sleeping shirt to some mysterious hotel room in a city I've never been to before!"
"I never said 'no pants' was a bad thing," Kish muttered with a completely straight face, continuing to stare out the window. Ichigo hid her blushing face in her hands.
"Just like old times, huh?" she grumbled. "You say something to get me riled up, I start blushing and get flustered, you get a flirty, then . . . I don't know, I start throwing punches? Is this the part where I start trying to kill you?" Kish let out an audible snort of laughter this time. He covered his eyes with his hands and grinned.
"Fucking hell . . . why do you have to be so goddamn cute all the time?" he groaned.
"I.. I.. what?" Ichigo sputtered, still red as a beet.
"I was half hoping that you'd be ugly and bitter and no fun at all," Kish said, a smile still playing on his lips. "It'd make this a whole lot easier."
"Make what easier?" Ichigo prodded, curious.
". . . letting go," Kish said, his voice going cold. His smile was gone now. Ichigo wasn't sure what to say. What was there for him to let go of? They hadn't seen each other in years.
"Why?" Ichigo posed the simple question. "Why let go? We had so much fun just now talking about the old times. Isn't that good?"
"Yeah but . . ." Kish stared at the floor again. "It's just that, when we talk I . . . talking to you just . . . I just can't risk it."
"Risk? Risk what?"
Suddenly Kish blurted it out with a pained, hoarse voice.
"I can't risk falling in love with you all over again."
He immediately went silent. He slumped his head, resting his elbows on his knees, and cradling his head in his hands. Ichigo was silent too, steadily watching Kish as he continued in the same weak tone.
"I can't stand talking to you because I know that if I do, I won't be able to go back. I know it would be the end of me because I know I can't have you, and that hurts. It hurts so much the dull ache wouldn't leave even when I separated myself from you for five years. Five years. And I know you have your soulmate already and I know you'll be very happy together so I try and fix myself to stop fixing my eyes on you. It hasn't worked. Nothing works. And I'm beginning to doubt if anything ever will."
Ichigo was focused, intent on the outpouring of emotion before her. Something dawned on her, something odd about their conversation.
"Kish, I need you to say my name. You haven't said it this entire time we've talked."
Kish was still.
"I know it might be hard for you, but I need you to do this. For me. It will help you face what you are feeling."
"But I can't-"
"Masaya and I aren't together anymore."
Ichigo immediately felt the change in mood within the room. The aura Kish was emitting was no longer one of desperation, but one of shock.
"You're lying," he hissed. He sounded near malicious. It frightened Ichigo.
"Why would I?" Ichigo murmured. "We went in different directions after we left high school."
"But why?" Kish spat, bewildered. "You always said that you two were . . . meant to be! Destined!"
"Masaya was my first love," Ichigo continued, "But like most first loves, as we matured we realized that our personalities were too different in order to continue to maintain a healthy relationship. So we went separate ways. I've actually dated a couple other guys after h-"
"You mean to say you've been broken up for more than two years now?" Kish hissed, still seething with misplaced rage. "And you've been dating normal men?"
"Yes, well, neither "normal" relationship lasted very long . . ." Ichigo trailed off. She glanced towards Kish, who looked positively furious. Kish ran his hands through his hair, clutching at handfuls of it in his fists.
"But you . . . Masaya! You and Masaya! Together! I just . . . I was so certain that it would always be that way! Forever! How could you promise such devotion to one being and just abandon it like that?" He stood up suddenly and began to pace, gesturing this way and that with his hands. "I mean, it's not like I was particularly in favor of the relationship to begin with, but now everything I thought about human devotion is just gone! Do you always leave? Do you humans abandon your passionate relationships so suddenly? If it was this easy to break you two apart, then by god I wasn't trying very hard before!"
"Kish, stop," Ichigo interrupted sternly. "You're acting like a child. Of course Masaya and I loved each other, but sometimes relationships—even long-term ones—fizzle out and die. That's normal. Not all relationships end like ours did."
"But you two were soulmates! You said so yourself!"
"I guess I was wrong."
"Ergh!" Kish slammed his palms against the glass wall, staring out into the city lights. "I just . . . I just don't know what to think anymore."
"I thought you'd be happy to hear the news," Ichigo mumbled. Kish sighed, slumping his shoulders.
"It's a mixed emotion, really." His eyes stared fixed on the city below him. He started again, his voice lower this time, "It's just that, in that day, Deep Blue, Masaya, you and Masaya, being together, happy . . . the only consolation in dying a . . . a loser was that my death was a stepping tone towards Masaya's return to normalcy. . . I always thought that it was ok that I lost, because if I had killed Deep Blue, Masaya would have died too. And you wouldn't be able to be with him. But now that you aren't together . . . I feel like I died for nothing."
Ichigo held her breath. All of a sudden, she was taken back to that night, the horrific memory of the killer—her boyfriend—standing in front of her, Kish fighting him, fighting to save her. His last words, his thick, warm blood staining her hands as he . . .
It was to much to think about. The memory alone made Ichigo's heart surge with pain whenever she recalled Kish's last moments. She had played them in her mind over and over again to the point where she felt every last emotion as tangible as a specimen one could turn over in their hands. She had memorized every sight, every smell . . . and she hated it. She wished she could forget. But the memory plagued her.
And here he was, standing in front of her, after all these years. Ichigo stared at his figure, turned away from him. His slim body stood facing the glass, his arms crossed in front of him. There wasn't an ounce of fat on his slight frame. He was toned, his exposed shoulder blades rippling with muscle, yet he was slim, not appearing bulky in the slightest. His hair was shorter and notably darker, cut close to his head in the back, though he let some of it sweep in front of his face like he had in the past. How old was he now? Ichigo could only guess that he was in his early twenties, since he had always seemed two or three years her elder.
Ichigo stood up from her chair and walked over to where Kish was standing. He remained unmoved. She stood next to him and asked in a voice that was almost a whisper, "Did it scar?"
He didn't need any more context than that. They both knew what she was talking about. Kish slowly reached down and pulled the tank over his head, revealing a huge, worm-like scar running from one shoulder blade all the way across his chest. Ichigo grimaced at the sight.
"You wouldn't think . . . with the Mew Aqua . . ."
"I know, I expected the Mew Aqua to heal me in a cleaner fashion." Kish interrupted, turning back towards the glass. "But that is the nature of the substance—it is natural energy. It is life. It's not some kind of alien magic. It heals by natural means. In this case, it used scar tissue. And to be honest, I don't care. I'm just happy to be alive."
Ichigo continued to stare at the scar. He had it because of her. He died. For her. And she . . . she had . . .
"Kish, I need to say something," Ichigo blurted out. Kish's reply was quick, and it shocked her.
"I know."
Ichigo bowed her head, murmuring the two words she had been meaning to say for so long:
"I'm sorry."
"You're forgiven."
His voice was stoic, cold. Ichigo, her breath shallow, turned her head to look at Kish. He continued to stare out into the distance.
"The kiss, I . . ."
"It's fine."
"But I-"
"It's ok."
"No, Kish, it's NOT okay!" Ichigo yelled, her tone rising. Suddenly she felt a surge of emotion, a reservoir of untold thoughts she kept pent up over five years. "It's not okay because I denied you the last thing you wanted in this life! I was too stupid and dumbfounded to help you fulfill your last wish, and that's not something I've been able to live with easily!"
She paused to catch her breath, continuing only a moment later, "Do you know how it feels to have someone die in your arms? To feel the last breath go out of them? To feel their heart stop, their limbs go limp? Because I know! And I know because that person died trying to save me! Because I was too weak to save myself! Too weak to save you! And on top of that, I was too stunned, too stunned to even bend my head down to kiss you in thanks for giving your life! For me! Kish, that is not okay! I will never be okay with that, and I suspect you never will be either!"
And just like that, Ichigo found wet trails of tears streaking down her cheeks. She angrily wiped them away and choked back the lump forming in her throat. Kish's eyes were lowered now, staring at his shoes. His eyes shifted towards Ichigo, his body staying still. His gaze grew sad as he looked at her.
"But I'm alive."
"How could I be so cruel?" Ichigo choked, still engrossed in her thoughts. A small sob escaped, Ichigo shoving at her eyes with her hands to try and force back the tears.
Kish exhaled, lifting a hand to gingerly touch Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo failed to react, more sobs escaping from her small, shaking frame. Kish took two steps towards her and folded the petite girl in to him, wrapping one hand around the small of her back, and cradling her head in the other. At first, Ichigo continued to cry, albiet silently, against Kish's chest, but within seconds she tore herself out of his grasp and turned away from him.
"I don't deserve this from you!" she cried. "Why are you being so kind to the girl who killed you?"
"Ichigo." Kish said her name slowly, deliberately. The way it slipped off his tongue was running your fingertips over fine silk. "Stop this right now."
Ichigo looked behind her towards Kish, her eyes red and puffy.
"Ichigo, there's a reason you're here tonight," Kish said slowly. Ichigo remained silent, the sobs receding. "I wanted . . . I wanted to finish it."
At first, Ichigo narrowed her eyes in confusion. Then, after a moment of thought, her face relaxed, her lips parted. She breathed, "Finish . . . the kiss."
Kish didn't have to say a word to know that Ichigo had guessed correctly. He stared steadily into her eyes, searching her for a reaction. Ichigo, never leaving his gaze, turned her body to face him once more.
"But how?" she murmured. "How could you possibly hope to make up for the damage I've done?"
"I know that we can never go back to that moment in time," Kish replied, breaking eye contact to look back on the room. "But I've been craving a resolution. I need that resolution more than anything, and I realize now that you need it too."
Ichigo bowed her head to stare at her bare feet. He was right. Painfully so.
But there was something different this time.
"Kish, I don't know if that's possible," Ichigo said slowly. "I'm so different from who I was. I used to be in love with Masaya. I used to . . . well, I used to feel . . . actually, I wasn't sure how I felt about you back then either."
"You're not sure now?" Kish asked, pacing the room slowly.
"No. I thought I was. I thought you were an old, annoying friend of mine I'd probably never see again. But now, tonight, I . . . I just don't know anymore. Seeing you again has made me realize that you've never really been just a friend. Do you know what I mean? Does seeing me again change your feelings at all?"
Kish stopped his pacing for a moment, facing away from Ichigo.
"No." He paused. "I've known that I'm hopelessly in love with you since I first knew you, and I stand before you with no different feelings than I had when I breathed my last breath in your arms."
Ichigo was dumbstruck, breathless. She was at a loss for words. Kish turned on his heel and began walking towards Ichigo once again. His head lowered, his molten gold eyes fixed on her, he stopped in front of her, just close enough so that Ichigo could feel his breath on her lips.
"Close your eyes," he said in a low tone. Ichigo silently obeyed, her breathing growing quick and shallow. "I realize it's painful, but I need you to go back to that night. The night that I died. I need you to see me fighting, lashing out at my mentor turned enemy, and now I need you to see me bleeding, dying."
Ichigo slowly raised her arms and extended them towards Kish. Kish slowly eased herself into her embrace, lightly wrapping his arms around her.
"Why are you crying?" he murmured. Ichigo knew from the moment he said it that Kish had, too, etched this memory into his brain. His voice precisely matched the one he had those many years ago. Ichigo couldn't keep the tears from falling.
"Ichigo," Kish continued, more husky this time. Ichigo guessed he was near crying too. "Ichigo, I'll tell you something good."
Kish lifted one of his hands from Ichigo's back to caress her tear-stained cheek, the other hand shifting to the back of her head.
Ichigo could barely stifle the words, yet somehow, she managed to choke them out. "What is it . . ." Then, "Kish?"
"I love you," Kish breathed, relishing the words just as much as he had those five years ago. "Ichigo . . ."
Ichigo could feel him drawing closer. She opened her eyes to look into his, and she knew. She knew that this was it. This was what she needed. She needed to be here, with him, in this moment. She could finish what he started.
She tilted her head to the side and pressed her lips against his.
The kiss was electric. Ichigo felt Kish wrap his arms around her waist and pull her against his body. His lips drew back only slightly before she felt them pushing back on hers, stronger this time. Ichigo wrapped her arms around Kish's neck, welcoming his lips with the tip of her tongue against their walls. In moments Kish had his tongue intertwined with hers, tilting his head further to the side. They broke only for a moment before the kisses grew more frequent, and quicker. Kish's hands moved up and down Ichigo's sides, stopping only at her hips, which he held against him. Ichigo's hand traveled into Kish's hair, caressing the back of his head.
Suddenly, Kish stepped forward, forcing Ichigo to stumble back with him, lips still locked. He took another step before Ichigo felt the cold surface of the glass wall on her back. Kish pressed his body against hers, pinning her against the glass and continuing to kiss her with more passion than she could stand. Ichigo was in an intoxicated bliss. Being so close to Kish was heaven. The way he kissed her, held her, touched her, it all made her heart race and her skin shiver in pleasure. He kissed her like he would never see her again, like kissing her was the last thing he would ever do. And it was exhilarating. It only made her crave more.
"Kish," Ichigo moaned in between kisses, "Ki—mm- Kish y-mmm- you're cheating."
Kish broke away only to grin mischievously at the blushing girl.
"Old story, new twist," he offered, his voice deep and full of breath.
Ichigo sighed, wrapping her arms around Kish's neck once more. He hesitated to begin kissing her again.
"I gotta say, kitten, I thought you would put up more of a fight than this."
"Well, when I pictured myself . . . when I pictured myself with my next boyfriend, you weren't exactly who I had in mind," Ichigo said with a sideways smile, narrowing her eyes. Kish bent down and nuzzled the side of her face affectionately, breathing in her scent.
"Mmm, but I might be exactly who you need."
Ichigo awoke slowly, recognizing immediately that she was in an unfamiliar bed. It took her a moment to allow the memories of the night to come back to her. Cracking her eyes open, she observed the morning sunlight streaming into the adjacent room.
Ichigo was warm, almost too warm. She moved her body slightly, and discovered when she looked down that there was an arm curled around her waist. She rolled over to see Kish still sleeping, his mouth slightly ajar. Smiling, she thought, What a night. What a crazy, fantastic, hell of a night.
She traced the curve of his nose with her fingertip, traveling down his lips and to the end of his chin. Then she pulled herself closer and gave his upper lip a gentle kiss. No reaction, and he had a bad case of morning breath too.
Ichigo propped herself up on her elbow and whispered in his ear, "Good morning, Kish. Time to get up."
Immediately he began to stir. He closed his mouth, screwed his face up tight, and slowly blinked his eyes open. His eyes traveled upward starting from Ichigo's bare, bruised chest, to her neck covered in bite marks, and up to her smirking face.
"Hi."
"Holy shit," Kish mumbled, "Best morning ever."
(A.N.) :
This story has a continuation in case you want more context to it. For now, I'll leave the "climax" here and see how it does. If you have questions like, "Why is Kish in Paris?" and "Who were the two people Ichigo dated after Masaya?" and "How do Ichigo's friends react to her relationship? Does she tell them?", let me know and I'll release the second part of this story.
Also, I realize that I combined parts of the anime into this story during the battle descriptions, while the rest of it seems to be based in the manga-verse. This is intentional in order to create a better-sounding scene, since the manga battles are typically less wacky/silly than the anime ones. I know, I'm bad.