Disclaimer: yeah, yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah. I don't own the rights to
ANYTHING like my dear Aoshi-sama or the spunky little Misao-chan. No,
Nobuhiro Watsuki owns them and many other respected business-types. If ya
like, want to comment, then by all means, please REVIEW!
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Tears of Buddha
Chapter 5: Revelations
By Starhopper
He had been found under her lips. With the slightest touch of her fingertips against his chin, she had pulled him back from the abyss. And now he was lying over her, fully aware of the reality that thrummed through his chest, the skin that rose to his touch. He finally was taking her for himself . . . something that could not be allowed. In confusion, he could allow for the promiscuous daydream of shutting the shoji and letting his most inner desires ravish an innocent. But reality preached moral sensibilities that had been forgotten while still wandering through the haze.
However, she had responded willingly, knowing full well that with every caress could come something much more -
No. The driving urge to grant her request was swallowed before Aoshi brought himself to lean back on his knees before her, shivering under a sudden chill that whistled between the shoji and doorframe.
The question in her eyes tore at his insides, at last scraping away at his skin when her voice asked what her eyes pleaded, "Why?"
The memory of how her mouth had moved against his landed on his lips, but he shook it away. Far away. No, he was her guardian, her protector. He knew what was best for her, and what was best was for him to leave now. His icy blue eyes had been melted; he could see her clearly through the illuminated darkness of the storm, leaning towards him, the loosened obi allowing for a generous gape in the neck of her kimono, sheer midnight tumbling around her shoulders, wildly free from the confines of a braid . . .
He felt his arms quiver like the strings of a bow, ready to send him flying back into her embrace. Oh if only the fog would descend and shroud her beauty in a haze of confusion like before. Then maybe he would gladly accept the role of hunter instead of predator.
"You know why Misao," his tongue felt so heavy, laden with the syrup of her kiss, "Because you're a woman now."
It had taken him so long to realize it, and now he agonized over that fact. This was why he let his mind fester over the mental scars he had inflicted upon himself, creating a forest for him to get lost in. This was the reason why he had forced his heart to freeze and regard the ninja from a distance. If he had ever noticed it before, the very act of waiting would have killed him with desire. Instead, the calculating mind of an Okashira had provided him with a catalyst. With every glance in her direction, he had disillusioned the blooming flower of maturity with memory. Her smile of reassurance was replaced by her smile as a baby, placing all hope in whoever held her. Her touch would be felt as nothing more than a tug on his shirt to play. And most distressing of all, her voice would fall on his ears as that of a child's, fawning over yet another act of her god, Aoshi-sama. The one she put high on a pedestal, the one that would someday come crashing down upon her in a torrent of confessions and caresses.
Truly, how could she love a man such as he? A man who subconsciously guarded himself from the true wantings of his heart?
A shiver trailed down from her shoulders as she knelt closer to him, her eyes refusing to leave his. "It's alright, Aoshi-sama," she soothed, pressing a palm to his heart. "If you accept that as truth, then it's alright," the hand snaked up to the nape of his neck, and he felt her pull his head down to meet hers. "Just kiss me again, and,"
Aoshi felt himself slip, each syllable rumbling under her breath like thunder as she shyly pushed herself against him, covering her mouth over his, emboldened by his last return. If he had given her earthly blossoms, she was going to give him heavenly manna. No mortal man could resist its flavor.
His mind was pleading with him to stop. But now that he had tasted her for the second time, it was hard to listen. She loved him. He loved her. Nothing could come between them short of Kami-sama's own hand appearing out of the skies, a monstrous fist crashing down on the couple. No, they finally had this moment to share together, alone, in peace.
Visions of himself meditating in the temple flashed through his memory, biting reminders of how broken and wounded he had been. Oh, if only he had let her find him sooner, instead of dumbly slashing his way through the briars of the catalyst! But meditation had provided him with some solace, some other guard against the outside world. It had also guarded him from the true Misao. However, that had only been to save him from what he now hungered -
'Am I so weak as to collapse under the demands of the body?' he wondered, giving into the heat burning against his chest. Spirit, heart; what had been so cold, was now so hot. Arms snapping to hold her, Aoshi sunk to kneel on the floor, the feather of his Misao cradled in his embrace. 'I've spent more time with the mind than the body,' he admonished, pulling back the shoulder of her kimono to reveal the tender flesh of her neck. 'Experiencing both brings balance.'
Indulging in the revelation, he kissed her below the jaw line, moving down her neck to come to the hollow where he whispered her name. But it was more than just "Misao".
'Can you feel my heart beating? Can you feel me smile? Of course you can, because it is you who has possessed me and made me move. You have it wrong, my Misao, you kiss me and everything will be alright,'
Soft palms cupped each side of his face. She understood the whisper choked out by a man reanimated as only she could. Pulling his head up from its track along her collarbone, she guided his mouth back to hers, smiling for him as he trembled against her body. More heavenly nectar flooded his through his being, her warmth and passion seeping into every vein. She was his life, his blood, his heart.
The kiss ended, and he sunk lower until his head rested against her left breast, his arms pulled tight about her waist. He felt the small weight on his head as she pressed her cheek against his bangs, molding her body around his to conserve the heat.
He slipped into a meditative state just to listen to both of their hearts beating, enjoying this moment of the body with no mind to confuse him. All he needed was to feel her fingertips gripping his shoulders to know that he had been caught, and wouldn't fall again.
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Tears of Buddha
Chapter 5: Revelations
By Starhopper
He had been found under her lips. With the slightest touch of her fingertips against his chin, she had pulled him back from the abyss. And now he was lying over her, fully aware of the reality that thrummed through his chest, the skin that rose to his touch. He finally was taking her for himself . . . something that could not be allowed. In confusion, he could allow for the promiscuous daydream of shutting the shoji and letting his most inner desires ravish an innocent. But reality preached moral sensibilities that had been forgotten while still wandering through the haze.
However, she had responded willingly, knowing full well that with every caress could come something much more -
No. The driving urge to grant her request was swallowed before Aoshi brought himself to lean back on his knees before her, shivering under a sudden chill that whistled between the shoji and doorframe.
The question in her eyes tore at his insides, at last scraping away at his skin when her voice asked what her eyes pleaded, "Why?"
The memory of how her mouth had moved against his landed on his lips, but he shook it away. Far away. No, he was her guardian, her protector. He knew what was best for her, and what was best was for him to leave now. His icy blue eyes had been melted; he could see her clearly through the illuminated darkness of the storm, leaning towards him, the loosened obi allowing for a generous gape in the neck of her kimono, sheer midnight tumbling around her shoulders, wildly free from the confines of a braid . . .
He felt his arms quiver like the strings of a bow, ready to send him flying back into her embrace. Oh if only the fog would descend and shroud her beauty in a haze of confusion like before. Then maybe he would gladly accept the role of hunter instead of predator.
"You know why Misao," his tongue felt so heavy, laden with the syrup of her kiss, "Because you're a woman now."
It had taken him so long to realize it, and now he agonized over that fact. This was why he let his mind fester over the mental scars he had inflicted upon himself, creating a forest for him to get lost in. This was the reason why he had forced his heart to freeze and regard the ninja from a distance. If he had ever noticed it before, the very act of waiting would have killed him with desire. Instead, the calculating mind of an Okashira had provided him with a catalyst. With every glance in her direction, he had disillusioned the blooming flower of maturity with memory. Her smile of reassurance was replaced by her smile as a baby, placing all hope in whoever held her. Her touch would be felt as nothing more than a tug on his shirt to play. And most distressing of all, her voice would fall on his ears as that of a child's, fawning over yet another act of her god, Aoshi-sama. The one she put high on a pedestal, the one that would someday come crashing down upon her in a torrent of confessions and caresses.
Truly, how could she love a man such as he? A man who subconsciously guarded himself from the true wantings of his heart?
A shiver trailed down from her shoulders as she knelt closer to him, her eyes refusing to leave his. "It's alright, Aoshi-sama," she soothed, pressing a palm to his heart. "If you accept that as truth, then it's alright," the hand snaked up to the nape of his neck, and he felt her pull his head down to meet hers. "Just kiss me again, and,"
Aoshi felt himself slip, each syllable rumbling under her breath like thunder as she shyly pushed herself against him, covering her mouth over his, emboldened by his last return. If he had given her earthly blossoms, she was going to give him heavenly manna. No mortal man could resist its flavor.
His mind was pleading with him to stop. But now that he had tasted her for the second time, it was hard to listen. She loved him. He loved her. Nothing could come between them short of Kami-sama's own hand appearing out of the skies, a monstrous fist crashing down on the couple. No, they finally had this moment to share together, alone, in peace.
Visions of himself meditating in the temple flashed through his memory, biting reminders of how broken and wounded he had been. Oh, if only he had let her find him sooner, instead of dumbly slashing his way through the briars of the catalyst! But meditation had provided him with some solace, some other guard against the outside world. It had also guarded him from the true Misao. However, that had only been to save him from what he now hungered -
'Am I so weak as to collapse under the demands of the body?' he wondered, giving into the heat burning against his chest. Spirit, heart; what had been so cold, was now so hot. Arms snapping to hold her, Aoshi sunk to kneel on the floor, the feather of his Misao cradled in his embrace. 'I've spent more time with the mind than the body,' he admonished, pulling back the shoulder of her kimono to reveal the tender flesh of her neck. 'Experiencing both brings balance.'
Indulging in the revelation, he kissed her below the jaw line, moving down her neck to come to the hollow where he whispered her name. But it was more than just "Misao".
'Can you feel my heart beating? Can you feel me smile? Of course you can, because it is you who has possessed me and made me move. You have it wrong, my Misao, you kiss me and everything will be alright,'
Soft palms cupped each side of his face. She understood the whisper choked out by a man reanimated as only she could. Pulling his head up from its track along her collarbone, she guided his mouth back to hers, smiling for him as he trembled against her body. More heavenly nectar flooded his through his being, her warmth and passion seeping into every vein. She was his life, his blood, his heart.
The kiss ended, and he sunk lower until his head rested against her left breast, his arms pulled tight about her waist. He felt the small weight on his head as she pressed her cheek against his bangs, molding her body around his to conserve the heat.
He slipped into a meditative state just to listen to both of their hearts beating, enjoying this moment of the body with no mind to confuse him. All he needed was to feel her fingertips gripping his shoulders to know that he had been caught, and wouldn't fall again.