House of Kotokura
Perhaps if someone had told them long ago, this would have been different. But had they always known, somewhere deep inside? They were two sides of the same coin; as one looked at the other they saw them self.
Shinji's hands traced the contours of Mitsuru's cheeks, jaw line, chin. It was his face he could feel, like touching a mirrored reflection. Her eyes told treasured stories, horrific and perfect. Words sprang forth from them that her mouth could never dream of uttering, would never understand.
He was her reflection and she was his. His eyes told clumsy stories but never the less beautiful, especially to her; a separation, loneliness, betrayal, the forgiveness. With one look each other's stories were now their own.
For so long they had felt the connection but had never known its origin. Dismissing a family tie, they took it as a romance – happy and stubborn in their childhood, which rekindled as an unbreakable love upon Shinji's return to the village in adolescence. Perhaps, had memories not been burned and oppressed, they would have seen how wrong it was now. But they didn't. To them, it was perfect. Their love was absolute.
Her lips touched his for the first time, but the feeling was no less familiar to her than a fox spirit's tail was to the fox. This was as natural as life itself. There was no rhythm to be made - it was like a heart-beat; lips breaking, connecting, deepening, retracting. If Mitsuru took Shinji's waist, Shinji's hands were already petting her back. If Shinji took Mitsuru's chin, she was already tracing circles on his cheeks with her thumbs. They were one mind with two bodies and one could not function properly without the other, like seasons of the year.
Born of the same house, the same mother, the same day, it was wrong. But no one had told them to stop. It was an attraction of the heart that could not be weakened. They were muses to each other now, lovers, friends. A bond unbreakable. Others could call it what they wanted, but this was love.
They curled together in bed, fingers and toes touching, arms lacing and chests connecting. A kiss. Their eyes connected and stories were told. Comfort, regret and remorse – but not of each other. Of those they had caused to suffer with no chance of repentance. An embrace, a whisper, a kiss. There was peace, no duty to hold them apart. For the rest of eternity they had each other, and no matter where they would end up, they would go there together. It was wrong, but they did not care. Tonight, for the first time, they were home.
Just a short story (well, story...?) to let me vent from doing all of my Uni coursework. Creative Writing is a heck of a lot more effort that I thought it'd be. So yeah, trying a few of the skills I learnt from that in this. Definitely different to my other stories, no doubt, but I hope you enjoyed~
