A/N: In complete honesty, to me this reads sort of like the bastard child of a bodice ripper and a Disney movie. I apologize if I tried too hard to add sex appeal and ended up making it look pasted on.
Disclaimer: I do not own any any of the characters used in my fanfiction, nor profit from my work.
The drone of the cicadas was heavy in the air; an om sutra, a lullaby. It competed with the midsummer humidity to lull the world to sleep under the summer stars that seemed close enough to touch. The thick canopy of tree leaves whispered in the barest of breezes, certainly not enough to provide any relief from the smothering heat.
One window in the old restaurant was wide open. Starlight peeped in, twinkling shyly, blazing pallid blue. The room was as full of happiness as it was the damp, sweltering night air. Even the window itself seemed to have been flung open with cheerful exuberance. Within the dark shadows of the window frame, something green and jewel-like perched, humming softly with the harmony of the universe. The spying starlight glowed on tiny gossamer wings.
Somehow, she event slept energetically. The futon seemed too narrow to contain her form as she sprinted and laughed her way through a kunoichi's dreams. Now, she was almost diagonal. Though petite, her limbs were long and slim, a pretty praying mantis come to roost. Despite her awkward position and her state of utter oblivion, she had a sinuous warrior's bearing. She called to mind a spider's web glimmering with dew, an alley cat huntress in effortlessly graceful repose.
Painted only with the rose petal blush of youth, every bit as velvety as the blossoms that emerged only after the first rain, her small lips quirked in a smile. Now she was dreaming something delicious…
She shifted and sighed, revealing a slim and pale neck. The hollow of her throat pulsed faintly with her shallow breaths. Though she didn't feel it, lost so far away in her dreams, the blue starlight kissed it, made it glow, a sensuous lure to any man's mouth. The unruly fringe of her bangs covered her eyes for a moment, then was shaken loose. A few wrinkles added even more character to her delicate brow as her dreams turned, perhaps, more tempestuous. One slender arm rested behind her head, fingers knotting lightly in her own hair. It was still a little damp from her bath before bed, giving off a teasing scent of honey and jasmine. As she tossed, the silken fall of darkness cascaded over her pillow, curling lusciously where the ends spilled over onto the tatami like a benediction. It shimmered with the slightest auburn spark, hinting at the keen fire within the girl it adorned so prettily. Finally free from her trademark braid, it was as bewitching as her lips.
Suddenly, a frown deepened the serene landscape of her face. Dark, spiky lashes were just long enough to brush her cheeks. Her face was angular in its beauty but still softened by the last remnants of baby fat, embellished by a tender pink flush like the most perfect white peach. Her pert little nose, lightly upturned and perfect for kisses, twitched at some imagined fragrance wafting through her fantasy.
Little glints of metal peppered the semi-darkness, glowing with a steely aura where the faint light hit them directly. Kunai were scattered across the futon, more hidden beneath the covers and in the folds of her snowy white yukata, a few more escaping diaphanous folds of a sheer, luridly pink ribbon that lay near her futon. Benign against her alabaster skin, they had almost the air of jewels. The hilt of one rested between her slim fingers, held almost lovingly, but never carelessly. She gripped it a bit tighter, flinching at some remembered battle, the sharp edge narrowly missing her soft flesh. Her ki was not as fierce as that of the male counterparts who slept nearby. Nevertheless, it was a banked fire, red-hot and ready to burst back into lively, consuming flame at the first hint of kindling. Would it be war or passion?
She had kicked the light summer blanket off in the sticky heat, her long legs escaping the heavy oppression of cloth to rest slightly splayed and bare to the thigh. They were creamy, faintly golden from her days making mischief in the endless summer sun. Her hips were still narrow, but showed the first signs of a womanly flare, her tiny waist providing more punctuation with each passing month. She jerked, turning to run after something or someone in her sleep; the yukata slipped open at the neck. The gap revealed a gentle swell, twin shadowy curves with a high valley beneath, heaving with the indomitable force of her life. A promise of things to come.
A promise made to whom?