- THE WORDSMITH'S FLOWER -
Hello and welcome back to The Wordsmith's Flower, an impromptu, easygoing story written on behalf of a kind reader (and of course, for anyone interested). It's Sei's second year as a literature student and already she is embarking on a serious prospective career as a novelist. To the incumbent Red Rose, the reborn and now very beautiful, mature Yumi, Sei is like a ghost back from the dead. Now Sei is back to haunt her, so it seems, with the provocative invitation to stay at her house every week - every day, if Yumi so prefers - to provide some form of vague inspiration for her forthcoming novel. Here, Sei will bare all her professional and personal vulnerabilities to Yumi, who will in turn be the muse for Sei's first masterpiece and opus.
No harm in an intimate reunion between a Red Rose whose gentle face hides a heart of passion, and an older writer whose every word is pure magic... right?
By the way, thank you for your reviews, I'm very happy to know that the reader who originally requested this seems satisfied with the current direction. Unleash the critiques if you feel I'm not doing justice to the characters. Stay happy and creative! That is why we dream, read, and write. ^.^
- Second Draft -
- Coffee First -
For every young lady, there are three words that leave an impact on her forever, whether for better or worse. They might be:
"I love you."
Or, "Maria bless you."
Or, "This is over."
Today, Yumi pressed the doorbell to Sei's house, she heard her three most important words for the day. It was, "Come on in." She could see Sei's welcoming eyes, those eyes that were wandering briefly over Yumi's figure to enjoy those new modest curves that were springing out of nowhere post-Sachiko. Oh, what the former head of the Red family was missing out! But as Sei opened the door for her smiling guest, she wondered why Yumi had been strangely silent and secretive about her beloved grande soeur since their reunion. Naturally, Shimako and Yoshino were her closest friends and colleagues now, so regular contact and collaboration was only expected. But not one peep about the woman who shaped her into the Rose she was today. Or perhaps, mused Sei, that she had overestimated the influence Sachiko exerted over the surprisingly strong and independent Yumi? She had tamed Touko, after all - something Sachiko could never have done in her wildest dreams.
"You're welcome here, every day of the week. I don't have foundation courses this term anyway, so I'm free to stay back whenever I feel like, which is going to be most of the time. I'm happy to take you around Lillian College too, we could grab some classically crap uni dosh there. You're looking good, by the way," observed Sei, admiring Yumi's skinny jeans and red jacket (which was notably slimmer and more flattering than the ones she once donned).
"As are you," answered Yumi politely, "although I wish you'd come up with a better colour match than white and blue all the time," she added, eyes pressing against Sei's white, sleeveless top, before moving down to her denim shorts that exposed most of her legs. Yumi's eyes clouded over briefly, and Sei wondered what crossed Yumi's mind as the latter indulged in her figure ever so briefly, reminding herself of what kind of woman had touched her, kissed her, treasured and guided her, throughout her school years. Sei began walking towards the staircase, and Yumi followed, crossing the threshold and following her past the door and onto the floorboards. She couldn't help watching the back of Sei's slim legs and the soles of her feet, taking turns to press upon the brown wood.
"I brought some white coffee and chocolates," offered Yumi absently, staring at Sei's shapely calves and thighs, not to mention her slender arms flaunting themselves past her sleeveless top. "Like old times, Rosa Gigantea."
"Awesome, Rosa Chinensis!" cried Sei, stretching high her stiff arms and yawning reflexively. "That's what I've been needing all along to get through this mental block, you know? I've barely started conceptualising this whole thing and I'm already stuck. You're my heavy artillery against the pressures of this internship, Yumi-chan."
Yumi flicked back her long hair. "Flatterer."
Sei now lived with Katou Kei, a fellow university student, so everything could have been read as an innocent gesture on Sei's part. But the novelist hadn't been lying; today the two-storey house was quite empty indeed, and looked to be every week while Kei continued attending classes and she holed herself up in her room for the duration of her internship. "The only time I ever leave the house is to get to class or grab something from the konbini," said Sei, as if reading Yumi's thoughts, "although I did go out to see Youko, and I wouldn't mind making the effort to catch you at school too."
Although she smiled, Yumi didn't feel as amused as she thought she would. These old jokes, these constant pickup lines that once agitated her so and made her hot under the necktie, just seemed corny. Sei really did resemble a perverted ojii-san, only much more lovable. It wasn't that Yumi was bored with Sei's lavish attention, and indeed she was pleased they now had a chance to exchange more emails, more texts, more calls, more visits. But Sei's old ways of treating her was too childish. It wasn't enough.
She needed more.
She wanted better, in any sense of the word.
A brief flash of concern crossed Sei's face when she noticed Yumi's unimpressed eyes, but that momentary awkwardness was broken by something worse. Sei had half-turned around and grabbed Yumi's hand - "Come on, up to my room!" she had said eagerly - but Yumi instantly blushed, her forced, composed face shattered by a wildfire of smothered affection and devotion. It was a simple touch, second nature for any pair of girlfriends - yet...
What was this? What had happened to their physical spontaneity?
Usually they would have laughed it off, or Sei would have just hugged Yumi and been done with it. Yes, perhaps they would have, a long time ago. This time, after a year apart, they glanced at each other in dry, throaty panic, as if the older woman might as well have farted a nuke. What had happened to Sei's usual mucking around and Yumi's reciprocal games?
"Come up," stuttered Sei after a painful silence, disconcerted by the silken texture of Yumi's skin. She still wasn't used to Yumi's long hair.
"Right," whispered Rosa Chinensis dryly, gingerly sliding her hand out of Sei's flawless, gentle grip.
Several strange minutes later
Yumi looked around Sei's sparse room. It was not extraordinary in any way. If anything, it was disappointing. There was a window that let in bright light, but aside from some cute patterned curtains there was no individual touch. There was no poster, no trophy, not even a framed photo or certificate: no expression of a personality. The only addition that looked relatively recent was a waist-high bookshelf with several volumes of English books. Whatever. She didn't know what to make of it, so she said to the writer, "I think I'll go make you that coffee. Let me prepare the chocolates, too."
"Cheers, Yumi-chan," replied Sei, and Yumi walked briskly out of the room, her bare feet pattering off the carpet and onto the wooden corridor. Sei slumped down onto her pink swivel chair as Yumi's footsteps receded, pressing her forehead on her table and groaning quietly. She ignored the stacks of paper and her fountain pen, which was rolling inconspicuously to one side. This was already not unfolding as she had planned. What was wrong with them? What was wrong with the feelings between them? They were like two complete amateurs fumbling a netball, except that the netball was their joined heart.
Awwwwwkwaaaarrrd...
Why did I call her up here?
Why did she agree to come with me? she wondered, and she thought she could dwell on those thoughts for several moments, but already Yumi had returned, having helped herself to a tray and some crockery in the Satou family's pantry. Sei watched her place one cup of steaming tea to Sei's small desk, before setting aside the tray at a corner on the floor, where there would be no accidents. Rosa Chinensis then slipped off her red jacket, revealing a white tee with a brown teddy bear. The novelist smiled in thanks, but Yumi looked away as she spoke.
"What am I supposed to do here, Sei-san? Just watch you? You need to tell me how I can help. I'm not good at English, let alone any kind of literature. I can just give you ideas, but not much more."
"Well, yeah, talk to me. And I'm going to talk to you, too. Bounce some ideas back between us. Keep me entertained and on my toes."
Yumi planted herself on Sei's bed, across from where Sei sat. She gazed at the surprisingly plain pattern of the blanket folded haphazardly on the mattress. She somehow imagined her covers would be decorated with anime heroines or cartoon aliens. Apparently not. How unexpectedly boring.
Yumi glanced up, and their eyes met again. "So, what's your story about? Maybe we could start with that," she proposed.
"No idea!" declared Sei shamelessly, throwing up her arms.
"Not the best start," replied Rosa Chinensis, and for a brief moment, Sei thought she was looking at a friendlier, sociable clone of Sachiko. "Is there anything you want to do with your writing? What do you want to tell your future readers?"
Sei's expression turned (just a bit) more serious. "My motivation for writing is pretty selfish, actually. In a way, I'm trying to tell a story that can help me leave behind my own old stories. And Youko said that I was good at expressing myself, in good times and bad. So I thought writing might be something worth trying as I left behind the old me."
"Forest of Thorns," said Yumi suddenly, staring straight into Sei's grey eyes. "Except with a happy ending. While you didn't write that novel, it represented everything that went wrong with your... your relationship with Shiori-sama." The Red Rose kept her eyes on Sei's kind gaze. "I'm sorry for bringing her up. But it seems that if you want to write, you need to draw up inspiration from your past, too."
"I only remember the snow that night," said Sei quietly, her smile turning sad, although Yumi had a way of easing anyone into talking about the recesses of their past. "The thorns were just a metaphor for how we felt about each other. But the snow was a clearer memory, falling so gently as I waited in vain for Shiori, as I cried in my grande soeur's arms. The snow was still falling by the time I walked home with Youko, just in time to have some drinks for my birthday. So I want this novel to be more... physical. More literal and visceral. That's why I've decided to call my story 'Dreaming Snow'."
"Yes, but you actually haven't written anything else, have you? Except for that corny title, that is," deduced Yumi, and Sei slumped, chuckling.
"Bingo," muttered the university student. "When did you become so perceptive?"
Yumi pursed her lips. "What about you? You told me I was looking lonely last week."
"That's because I really felt it." Sei turned around, sifting through the sheets of paper. "I guess I should try to get something done..."
Yumi tilted her head, innocently defiant. "I'm not cute enough for you?" she teased suddenly. "Are you already done talking, and I should just laze around here until I fall asleep and you shake me up a couple of hours later and shoo me out in time for dinner? Just like how you'd treat a junior high school student?"
Sei glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Yumi, you naughty filly. You're growing quite the attitude, aren't you? No, you're very pretty. And you're... no junior freshman. I... I don't know how I should talk to you anymore, in all seriousness. I don't want to talk down to Rosa Chinensis. I guess I want to know if I'm still pretty enough for you, too?"
"Too pretty. Too kind. Kind to the extent of being cruel."
Sei whistled. "What a brave and honest reply. As I said before, you're quite the one for me, too. That's why you're here to give me some ideas about this motif of dreaming snow..."
Yumi stared at the writer once more. "Who do you think I am, Sei-san?" she asked unexpectedly and defiantly. She rose from the bed and made her way over to Sei's swivel chair. Sei's impressed expression became apprehensive. She never used to look uncertain to Yumi's face. Now everything had changed, and she was betraying her uncertainty about this older Yumi fairly often. Yumi stopped only when she was looking directly down at Sei's sitting form - their contrast could not have been greater: one sitting, the other standing, one's blonde hair cut short and subdued, the other's rich brown hair unbound for all to marvel at.
"Where is this going?" asked Sei, almost meekly. She had never heard herself speak like this before.
"Nowhere. I'm just saying that I'm Rosa Chinensis. I've grown up. You should have known I would grow up." Yumi didn't keep her eyes off Sei's faltering pupils, pinning them, immobilising them. For the first time, the maturing girl could feel Sei's body language visibly weaken, cower, submit before the presence that all Red Roses inherited. Sei might be older, wiser, and in a job, but Rosa Chinensis would always be Rosa Chinensis, and while Rosa Gigantea was an equally powerful title, that was the whole point: Sei no longer held it.
She was just an ordinary woman sitting here, straddled by the Red Rose.
"You want me to inspire you? Then you have to look at me. Run your eyes over me, and your words must entangle themselves with mine. Isn't that the point? You have no choice but to make me one of your characters. Only then can I be of any help. Or were you just looking for a maid to serve you coffee?" They hadn't even touched, but Yumi felt herself shivering with a fire she thought had died when Sei left Lillian. "I don't think so. Those days are long over, dear Rosa Gigantea. I won't accept that." Yumi drew down closer, breath warm and inhaling languidly. Her dark brown eyes shimmered. "I would go so far as to say you owe me, Sei-san. Dreaming snow? No. You're going to wake up, Sei-san. You're going to wake up to me. We're going to wake up to each other. The snow is going to melt. And don't you say no, you cocky writer, because you're the one who brought me here."
"Well, no. I was joking about the coffee. I really do need you. Geez, maybe you should be an author, too," sputtered Sei hastily. "You're a bit of a wordsmith too."
Yumi gazed up at Sei's bowed head. "Why have you suddenly become afraid?" she asked cruelly, in an almost taunting manner. Her skinny jeans pressed against Sei's legs. "Has something changed? This isn't the Sei-san I knew."
"Because you're not the Yumi I know," whispered Sei, unable to resist taking the bait. "When did you...?"
Yumi smiled, but to Sei it looked more like a smirk. "Why should I - or anyone - stay the same for you? That's expecting too much, even for someone as fickle as you."
"Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Fukuzawa?" rasped Satou Sei, in a final, likely futile attempt to regain some control of the collapsing house of cards she had built to keep Yumi from wriggling in, long hair dishevelled sensually. But she couldn't. Yumi's power was magnetic, and she had to admit in her heart of hearts that this was just too much fun, disorienting though this new, primal allure might be.
This thrill, this nervousness, was new.
It wasn't like what she had felt for Shiori.
There was no search for redemption, no idea of sin or forgiveness.
This was just pure fun.
Boiling, burning tension unlike any of the cuddling and fondling sessions they had shared before Sei had left Lillian.
"Am I trying to seduce you? I don't think so. But even if I was, my intentions don't really matter anymore. It wouldn't make a difference whether I was just teasing you mercilessly or burning with hunger for you. You shouldn't care whether I'm just an old girlfriend or if you want to make passionate love to me." Yumi's face was fierce, alight with a protective, younger, naive passion Sei had long forgotten. "Don't you have a story to write, Miss Literature?"
Sei gazed up at Yumi, painfully aware of how hot she had become - all over - as their letters and sentences danced with each other. "I made the right choice. You're beautiful, so beautiful. You're the girl I need to complete my novel," she confessed, almost angrily, like she had cheated herself of something that was once hers for the taking... no, these thoughts were crazy, had they been lurking within her all this time, or had they just been awakened? Why now, and why had they been so easy to agitate? So many questions, but Rosa Chinensis wasn't about to let her off easily.
"What you do with these new fires burning in your brain, will be up to you. I'm feeding the fire for you. The fire of yearning, where the pleasure of creativity explodes," whispered Rosa Chinensis, raising her hands. They slowly clasped Sei's face, as if in relishing revenge for how Sei grabbed her wrist just over an hour ago. That rare inferno within cool blue Sei seemed to be igniting her cheeks, which Yumi continued to cradle.
"You live up to your title. You are more than a worthy heir to Sachiko-chan. Red Rose Yumi-chan," whispered the helpless wordsmith.
Fukuzawa Yumi's breath warmed Sei's lips. "Dreaming snow? Let these kindling flames threaten to melt that snow, and shake you out of your reverie. Maybe - just - maybe - then you'll feel compelled to write."
NEXT DRAFT: SEI'S INSPIRED TALE BEGINS TO UNFOLD.
AND ROSA CHINENSIS FINDS HERSELF AT ITS EPICENTRE.