Story: Thirteen
Pairing(s): Ichigo|Haruka
Word Count: 250
Rating: T
Author's Comment: I was on a bit of a Cranberries kick while writing this and another piece of short fiction. This piece in particular takes inspiration from two songs, "Animal Instinct" by The Cranberries and "Howl" by Florence and the Machine. The way that I want to reformat Thirteen (in the re-vamp) is going to focus a little more on the traits that inspired the Arcana characters. In Haruka's case, I have a very specific idea of how I wanted her written (and hoped she was perceived), whether I have been successful or not, I don't know, but she's quite still-very stagnant. However, there is an aspect of her personality that has yet to fully take shape within Thirteen and I wanted to explore it here. The songs I mentioned really helped me focus on what I wanted and if you're curious, look them up on YouTube and have a listen. They're wonderful songs.
Enjoy!
Given that this is the last contribution to the 30DoSF for this story, I'm going to be marking this story as "Completed." That said, feel free to continue to follow it for possible future updates.
Originally posted on December 9, 2017 for 30 Days of Short Fiction. For more information on 30DoSF, please refer to the pinned entry on at my wordpress, linked available in my profile, or read the vague explanation under the announcements header on my profile page.
Animal Instinct
Haruka oversees Ichigo's training. She takes in the sweat on his brow, formed of both his frustration and deep concentration, and watches it draw a trail down the side of his face. The way he swings his sword and how the muscles of his arm strain against his skin thins her breath. Power returns to him in growing bouts and surrounds him like a mantle of goodness that she feels wash over her like mist rolling out into a street.
She kisses him once training has ended and it takes every bit of willpower to stop herself at that when she wants nothing more than to feel the weight of his body on hers, smell the sweat and sunlight mingling on his shoulder, or feel the tightening of his muscles beneath her palms.
She smiles at him once they draw back and pats his cheek. There's an awkwardness in him and she knows he senses it too. She holds back, allowing him to exit her dimension, because it frightens her to feel the way she does.
It's animalistic. Her desire for him. Not only carnal. It's spiritual. It's beyond fate. Want isn't a strong enough word. Need isn't either. Possession comes close, but what she's experiencing, she feels in her marrow. Every week, every day, every breath it grows into a black hole that may be too strong for him to stand close to without being swallowed in.
This is stronger than her and efforts to ignore it are wasted.