Puddleshipping (Kisara x Ryouta)

Ryouta Kajiki loved water. He lived and breathed it. The ocean was his whole life, his very being. He couldn't remember a time when it wasn't such a big part of him. Any time he found himself too far away from the ocean, he would become shaky and dizzy. Water was his lifeblood, and he could not forsake it for any reason, not even the death of his father.

But there was just something about rain puddles. Something he didn't like.

He scuffled down the wet street, clad in his rain boots and poncho, kicking at rocks as he found them. Not that there were many; most had been washed away by the torrents of rain from this morning. Worms lay dying on the concrete, some wriggling lethargically in the water. Ryouta wrinkled his nose at the small, slimy creatures. The sun was starting to break through the clouds, now. That was good. T had been gloomy for the past couple of weeks, and Ryouta hadn't been able to go out fishing for fear of the storms coming in.

He kept his eyes trained firmly on the ocean in the distance, at the end of the road he walked on. He tried to ignore the stagnant puddles of water around him, and the annoying, lingering smell of rain that for some reason bothered him. He didn't quite understand his dislike of rain's footprints himself. He liked rain well enough. It was a nice feeling to stand underneath a pouring raincloud and feel the water rushing down all around him, like the ocean on land. But the aftereffects...with the rain soaked streets and the puddles and dying worms left behind...he didn't like it. He had never liked splashing through puddles like his fellow classmates in elementary school had. He had avoided them like the plague, instead. He had gotten teased a lot about that.

Sploosh.

The sound drew Ryouta from his thoughts. He glanced behind him to find its source.

A girl stood in a puddle, absolutely dripping wet. Her canvas colored dress clung to her curves in the way only water soaked fabric could. Long white hair, nearly blue in this light, drooped across her back and in her eyes. It looked as though someone had just dumped a bucket of water on her. But where had she come from? He hadn't heard her before.

She stood, barefoot in the puddle for a moment. Ryouta found himself staring. He couldn't help it. What was she doing, and where were her shoes? Her bangs fell over her eyes, so he couldn't see her expression.

Then, without a word, she stepped out of the puddle. She walked smoothly, almost like she was floating, to another puddle. Then, tentatively, she put one bare foot into the water, and then the next. She stood absolutely still once standing in the puddle. She didn't make a sound.

Ryouta could only stare. What was wrong with this girl? Was she all right? He had never seen her in town before, and that was saying something. This town was tiny; plus, she was fair skinned. She had to be a foreigner, but what kind of tourist walked around without shoes into puddles? He tried to open his mouth to speak, and found no words coming out. He tried several times to ask her what she was doing, and each time found that his words didn't want to come out right.

The girl pushed her hand through her hair – the first movement he had seen out of her since she left the other puddle. She pushed her wet bangs out of her eyes, and he found them to be a beautiful, coursing blue.

"We didn't have a lot of water like this, back home," she said, suddenly. "I've never seen so much water before. It's...beautiful."

And just like that, she was gone.

Ryouta's mouth hung open slightly. Had he really seen what he thought he had just seen? She had been there one minute, and not there the next. Was he dreaming? Imagining things?

He edged toward the puddle she had been standing in and glanced down at it, as if it would show some sign of her passing.

He saw nothing. Nothing except the reflection of the blue sky, as blue as her eyes...

A/N: Well. This one was...ah, interesting. I think Kisara just likes freaking people out. That, and she likes the feeling of being soaked with water. Next is...oh, mother of Madoka...Psychoshipping (Yami no Marik x Yami no Bakura). I'm...kind of afraid...