Why, hello, minna-san! **Dodges blunt objects thrown at her** I'm
terribly sorry that it's taken me this long to update, but I hope to be
writing more chapters more quickly. I'd really like to honestly thank each
and every one of you who has read this story, has or has not left a review
(but it helps). It really means a lot to me, because, like fellow writers I
have spoken with, I have bouts where I loathe my writing. I'm currently
sort of in one right now, but I hope this turns out okay. Don't be
surprised if I revise it. ^_^ Well, now that that's out, please enjoy! ^_^
And a special thank you to Chaotic Serenity.
~Midnight.Star
Sharp, cold blue eyes bore into me, blond bangs shift over the hostile face. He steps forward towards me, I can feel his hands on me once more. The harsh fabric of the tent cuts into my back, slicing some of the jacket's material. I struggle, and my face stings from a swift smack.
"Priestess, would you rather be awake?" Nakago's unfeeling voice interrupts, making me tremble violently. I'm back in Sairo, in his tent. My seishi. . . They've gone on ahead! Nakago, don't. . . don't. . . I'm here for Nuriko's sake. He wears the Shinzaho around his neck like it was simple jewelry, a cruel grin lines his face. The shogun knows he has the upper hand on this, and I'm not going to be able to summon Suzaku anytime soon. The air turns cold on my exposed skin, I can't do much held against this wall.
Tamahome, forgive me. . . My heart feels like it's breaking. . .
Next thing I know I'm on the floor, and Nakago is looming over me, his symbol ablaze on his forehead. Heart. If it were a different situation, I would laugh at the irony. His hands press me into the unyielding ground, roving over my body and unbuttoning my shirt. I'm helpless, I can't move, please don't let this happen. . . Anyone. . . Azure eyes show the never- ending depths of his hunger for power and pain, Nakago's hands find my throat and begin to apply steady pressure. He slips in between my legs and. . .
"No!" I startle awake, shaking fiercely. An arm is around me, and I push away, eyes wide. Terse seconds go by as I attempt to figure out where I am, breathing harshly and body trembling. I put my arms in an X over my chest to hide myself. Warm colors surround me, unlike the harsh reality of the tent. . . That dreaded spot. . . But I'm not there. This is Japan, I slowly remind myself. This is my apartment building, far away from him and the rest of the Seiryuu. Nakago is dead, the scene replays itself in my mind each and every day. He'll never be able to touch you, or anyone you love, ever again. . .
No. . . No. . . No. . . I turn around slowly, willing my breathing to calm down, as I face a bewildered Taka. He is surprised, slate eyes are wide and questioning. He half sits, now raised slightly into a premature crouch.
"I'm sorry, Taka." I apologize hastily, rising quickly to my feet, cursing myself for the recurrence of the nightmare. The last one was more than two weeks ago. I had woken up crying, in a cold sweat, awful memories of what might have happened. The hallway gives me a quick reminder that human bodies are not made for sleeping in such places, I emit a low hiss as my backside prompts me so. The rustle of a jacket behind me acknowledges his ascent to his feet as well, and gentle footsteps follow mine, welcomed, into my apartment once more.
Taka closes the door behind him, and it is with a brief wave I motion for him to remove the jacket and make himself comfortable. He does so, hanging up his jacket on the coat rack near the door, and taking mine in the process. With a soft smile, I thank him, offering him something to drink. My hands shake slightly, the recurrence of the nightmare still vivid in my eyes.
I soon find myself in the kitchen, searching through oak cupboards for my favorite kind of tea, a spiced green tea I took a liking to in the ShiJinTenChiSho. The monk got me hooked on it, as I remember that it's his favorite, too.
"Would you like any help, Miaka?" Taka offers thoughtlessly, a slight grin lining his handsome features. "I'm not that bad in a kitchen." Unconsciously, I smile myself, acknowledging my great feats in cooking. Faint cries from Keisuke, screaming, "Mom! Where's the fire extinguisher!?" If one would have remembered clearly enough, he might have sound panicked. Yep, that's it.
"Thank you, but it's really alright. Is this kind okay?" I hold it up, and he nods approvingly. "Chichiri's the one who started me on this, anyway. Said it's relaxing." Taka pauses, as if registering a familiar name, my own heart pulls strings of remembrance and nostalgia. I speak of them like they're all here. I wish they were, that way someone could help me figure out what's going on, and why Tamahome is here. Not that I don't like it, but it'd be nice to find out why things are working out the way they are.
Amethyst eyes are raised to my own hazel ones, the expression on his face appears as if he's thinking hard about something. "Chichiri. . . where do you know him from?" More of a question to himself, rather than me. The way he faces me, yet looks at himself almost inwardly. Taka, if I could make you remember, I'd relive every moment. But you made it here, somehow, and I should be ashamed of myself for wanting more. "He's not here," I speak softly, more for my own sake than his. I. . . I had to part ways. Suzaku wouldn't let me stay where I wanted to most. Don't get me wrong, I love Japan, I grew up here. . . But I found everything I've ever wanted in Konan, and more.
My back is turned to him, and I can hear the balcony door slide open. One of the best thinking places in all of Japan, I've found, is on that balcony, overlooking the bustling city, curled up in one of the chairs I've pulled out there and haven't had the thought to bring back in. He raises his slate-colored head to the night sky, where only the brightest of starts outshine the competing lights of Japan, as if the answers themselves happened to be written up there.
The shrill call of the kettle startles me, and I jump almost as badly as I did before, out in the hall. Turning quickly, I curse the device, yet pour the boiling water into tea cups, watching the teabags turn dark and waterlogged. The small porcelain mugs give off a cheerful steam, and I turn to carry them out to the balcony, to join Taka in searching the stars for my own selfish questions.
The night air is cool and welcoming on my face. Without speaking, I set the glasses on the small side table I use for parties (although not often anymore), and join the reality before me on the edge.
"Where have I head that name before? It's almost a curtain, blocking something I should know." His voice is low and calm, but his face is troubled. Sympathy overtakes me, and I let my hands grip his elbow lightly, and he turns his handsome face to me.
"I have dreams about people. Like Chichiri, the others, and you. Something happened, and I'm trying to figure it all out. Maybe I'm blocked as well." That's only half of it. Dreams where I wake up in a cold sweat, sleepless nights after waking up thinking that I'm reliving terrible moments again. Watching Nuriko die in Tamahome's arms, listening to Hotohori tell me he'll never hold his child. . . Amiboshi letting go. . . And Chichiri's heartbreaking pain, one that not even time can fully heal. Get a hold of yourself, Miaka, before you let your emotions get the better of you again.
"Dreams?" He speaks barely above a whisper, almost a statement rather than a question. I face the quiet darkness outside on the balcony, the lights of the city hiding the splendor of the stars. The metal railing is cool, and I debate for a moment about resting my head on it. Taka rests his arms on the railing, relaxing one foot easily, his eyes searching the evening sky.
"Things I can never forget." The murmur escapes me, and I fall silent. If I have to, I'll tell you again, Taka. Everything, from the amazingly close calls, to those times where we could just be happy. I close my eyes, heightening the rest of my senses to him. A slight sound of his clothes shifting over his body, and I feel two hands tentatively touch my waist, Taka's standing behind me. With a brief pause, he gently slides his hands around my waist, pulling me softly back into him, burying his face in my auburn hair.
"I missed you." He whispers faintly into my tresses. Almost immediately, I let my eyes slide open, in an effort to blink away tears. Sudden and immediate comfort floods me, every nerve in my body. Please let this never end. It's been so long, and I've waited for what seems like forever. Oh Tamahome. . . It's you. . . I promise you, I'll hold you more tightly this time, I promise. My eyes close once more, allowing the tears to run down my face. Easily, Taka turns me around in his arms, I find myself lightly pressed to him, enfolded in a soft embrace. I begin what would have been a quick glance upwards, only to be trapped by his amethyst eyes, sparkling and serious all at the same time. So many emotions flash through, however, it's difficult to read them.
Ever so slowly, he leans down, closing his eyes, my own the same. I can feel warm breath on my cheek, soft lips brushing away my tears. Cautiously, he travels towards my own lips, ever so gently covering my mouth with his. Feathertouch, one hand carefully strokes my hair, as if afraid I'll disappear in a heartbeat. Oh Taka, I'm not going anywhere! Painstakingly slow, he begins to advance his intentions, and I'm crying even harder. . . Tamahome. . . ! Every sweet touch is a jolt through my body, my hands are buried in his thick hair, I'm losing myself and it's glorious. A passion that has remained dormant for so long is awakened, and I feel my knees going weak, but that doesn't matter, I'm wrapped up in his arms. . . My whole being is shaking, right down to my soul, this can't be happening, I must be dreaming, this is probably just my mind playing the most wicked trick on me. But everything else says it's real, that the most important person in either world is right here, with me. For once, let this moment never end. . . Please. . .
Please let me know what you think. ^_^ I appreciate any reviews, should they be flames or not, but each one suggesting a critical view will be taken into account and reviewed. Thank you all, to my loving supporters who are either named or nameless, or just the people who read this for the love of the story. Thanks you again,
~Midnight.Star~
And a special thank you to Chaotic Serenity.
~Midnight.Star
Sharp, cold blue eyes bore into me, blond bangs shift over the hostile face. He steps forward towards me, I can feel his hands on me once more. The harsh fabric of the tent cuts into my back, slicing some of the jacket's material. I struggle, and my face stings from a swift smack.
"Priestess, would you rather be awake?" Nakago's unfeeling voice interrupts, making me tremble violently. I'm back in Sairo, in his tent. My seishi. . . They've gone on ahead! Nakago, don't. . . don't. . . I'm here for Nuriko's sake. He wears the Shinzaho around his neck like it was simple jewelry, a cruel grin lines his face. The shogun knows he has the upper hand on this, and I'm not going to be able to summon Suzaku anytime soon. The air turns cold on my exposed skin, I can't do much held against this wall.
Tamahome, forgive me. . . My heart feels like it's breaking. . .
Next thing I know I'm on the floor, and Nakago is looming over me, his symbol ablaze on his forehead. Heart. If it were a different situation, I would laugh at the irony. His hands press me into the unyielding ground, roving over my body and unbuttoning my shirt. I'm helpless, I can't move, please don't let this happen. . . Anyone. . . Azure eyes show the never- ending depths of his hunger for power and pain, Nakago's hands find my throat and begin to apply steady pressure. He slips in between my legs and. . .
"No!" I startle awake, shaking fiercely. An arm is around me, and I push away, eyes wide. Terse seconds go by as I attempt to figure out where I am, breathing harshly and body trembling. I put my arms in an X over my chest to hide myself. Warm colors surround me, unlike the harsh reality of the tent. . . That dreaded spot. . . But I'm not there. This is Japan, I slowly remind myself. This is my apartment building, far away from him and the rest of the Seiryuu. Nakago is dead, the scene replays itself in my mind each and every day. He'll never be able to touch you, or anyone you love, ever again. . .
No. . . No. . . No. . . I turn around slowly, willing my breathing to calm down, as I face a bewildered Taka. He is surprised, slate eyes are wide and questioning. He half sits, now raised slightly into a premature crouch.
"I'm sorry, Taka." I apologize hastily, rising quickly to my feet, cursing myself for the recurrence of the nightmare. The last one was more than two weeks ago. I had woken up crying, in a cold sweat, awful memories of what might have happened. The hallway gives me a quick reminder that human bodies are not made for sleeping in such places, I emit a low hiss as my backside prompts me so. The rustle of a jacket behind me acknowledges his ascent to his feet as well, and gentle footsteps follow mine, welcomed, into my apartment once more.
Taka closes the door behind him, and it is with a brief wave I motion for him to remove the jacket and make himself comfortable. He does so, hanging up his jacket on the coat rack near the door, and taking mine in the process. With a soft smile, I thank him, offering him something to drink. My hands shake slightly, the recurrence of the nightmare still vivid in my eyes.
I soon find myself in the kitchen, searching through oak cupboards for my favorite kind of tea, a spiced green tea I took a liking to in the ShiJinTenChiSho. The monk got me hooked on it, as I remember that it's his favorite, too.
"Would you like any help, Miaka?" Taka offers thoughtlessly, a slight grin lining his handsome features. "I'm not that bad in a kitchen." Unconsciously, I smile myself, acknowledging my great feats in cooking. Faint cries from Keisuke, screaming, "Mom! Where's the fire extinguisher!?" If one would have remembered clearly enough, he might have sound panicked. Yep, that's it.
"Thank you, but it's really alright. Is this kind okay?" I hold it up, and he nods approvingly. "Chichiri's the one who started me on this, anyway. Said it's relaxing." Taka pauses, as if registering a familiar name, my own heart pulls strings of remembrance and nostalgia. I speak of them like they're all here. I wish they were, that way someone could help me figure out what's going on, and why Tamahome is here. Not that I don't like it, but it'd be nice to find out why things are working out the way they are.
Amethyst eyes are raised to my own hazel ones, the expression on his face appears as if he's thinking hard about something. "Chichiri. . . where do you know him from?" More of a question to himself, rather than me. The way he faces me, yet looks at himself almost inwardly. Taka, if I could make you remember, I'd relive every moment. But you made it here, somehow, and I should be ashamed of myself for wanting more. "He's not here," I speak softly, more for my own sake than his. I. . . I had to part ways. Suzaku wouldn't let me stay where I wanted to most. Don't get me wrong, I love Japan, I grew up here. . . But I found everything I've ever wanted in Konan, and more.
My back is turned to him, and I can hear the balcony door slide open. One of the best thinking places in all of Japan, I've found, is on that balcony, overlooking the bustling city, curled up in one of the chairs I've pulled out there and haven't had the thought to bring back in. He raises his slate-colored head to the night sky, where only the brightest of starts outshine the competing lights of Japan, as if the answers themselves happened to be written up there.
The shrill call of the kettle startles me, and I jump almost as badly as I did before, out in the hall. Turning quickly, I curse the device, yet pour the boiling water into tea cups, watching the teabags turn dark and waterlogged. The small porcelain mugs give off a cheerful steam, and I turn to carry them out to the balcony, to join Taka in searching the stars for my own selfish questions.
The night air is cool and welcoming on my face. Without speaking, I set the glasses on the small side table I use for parties (although not often anymore), and join the reality before me on the edge.
"Where have I head that name before? It's almost a curtain, blocking something I should know." His voice is low and calm, but his face is troubled. Sympathy overtakes me, and I let my hands grip his elbow lightly, and he turns his handsome face to me.
"I have dreams about people. Like Chichiri, the others, and you. Something happened, and I'm trying to figure it all out. Maybe I'm blocked as well." That's only half of it. Dreams where I wake up in a cold sweat, sleepless nights after waking up thinking that I'm reliving terrible moments again. Watching Nuriko die in Tamahome's arms, listening to Hotohori tell me he'll never hold his child. . . Amiboshi letting go. . . And Chichiri's heartbreaking pain, one that not even time can fully heal. Get a hold of yourself, Miaka, before you let your emotions get the better of you again.
"Dreams?" He speaks barely above a whisper, almost a statement rather than a question. I face the quiet darkness outside on the balcony, the lights of the city hiding the splendor of the stars. The metal railing is cool, and I debate for a moment about resting my head on it. Taka rests his arms on the railing, relaxing one foot easily, his eyes searching the evening sky.
"Things I can never forget." The murmur escapes me, and I fall silent. If I have to, I'll tell you again, Taka. Everything, from the amazingly close calls, to those times where we could just be happy. I close my eyes, heightening the rest of my senses to him. A slight sound of his clothes shifting over his body, and I feel two hands tentatively touch my waist, Taka's standing behind me. With a brief pause, he gently slides his hands around my waist, pulling me softly back into him, burying his face in my auburn hair.
"I missed you." He whispers faintly into my tresses. Almost immediately, I let my eyes slide open, in an effort to blink away tears. Sudden and immediate comfort floods me, every nerve in my body. Please let this never end. It's been so long, and I've waited for what seems like forever. Oh Tamahome. . . It's you. . . I promise you, I'll hold you more tightly this time, I promise. My eyes close once more, allowing the tears to run down my face. Easily, Taka turns me around in his arms, I find myself lightly pressed to him, enfolded in a soft embrace. I begin what would have been a quick glance upwards, only to be trapped by his amethyst eyes, sparkling and serious all at the same time. So many emotions flash through, however, it's difficult to read them.
Ever so slowly, he leans down, closing his eyes, my own the same. I can feel warm breath on my cheek, soft lips brushing away my tears. Cautiously, he travels towards my own lips, ever so gently covering my mouth with his. Feathertouch, one hand carefully strokes my hair, as if afraid I'll disappear in a heartbeat. Oh Taka, I'm not going anywhere! Painstakingly slow, he begins to advance his intentions, and I'm crying even harder. . . Tamahome. . . ! Every sweet touch is a jolt through my body, my hands are buried in his thick hair, I'm losing myself and it's glorious. A passion that has remained dormant for so long is awakened, and I feel my knees going weak, but that doesn't matter, I'm wrapped up in his arms. . . My whole being is shaking, right down to my soul, this can't be happening, I must be dreaming, this is probably just my mind playing the most wicked trick on me. But everything else says it's real, that the most important person in either world is right here, with me. For once, let this moment never end. . . Please. . .
Please let me know what you think. ^_^ I appreciate any reviews, should they be flames or not, but each one suggesting a critical view will be taken into account and reviewed. Thank you all, to my loving supporters who are either named or nameless, or just the people who read this for the love of the story. Thanks you again,
~Midnight.Star~