MUGEN
Mochi
.
"What are you doing? We were going to the river, weren't we?" I ask, not hiding my surprise from seeing you wearing the yukata you usually put on for the house's chores. At the start of the day, we had agreed on going fishing together.
It is a pleasant day, one of the first warm ones of the season, and I, secretly, was expecting the stroll to end in kisses and caresses by the light of a fire.
"We'll go, we'll go." You seem indifferent, focused as you are on your task, while I watch your movements, grinding the herbs in your mortar.
Soft, I find the smell coming out of it; it reminds me of a fruitful forest, while is still far away.
"What are you doing?" I insist, then I kneel behind you as I carefully observe, over your shoulder, the different reagents you've got on the table. The sweetness of the anko you've cooked is quite strong, despite being covered.
"I'm grinding cherry blossoms." Your voice is slightly strained by the light effort of your task.
"The ones you had left to dry?" I continue the conversation, although my attention falls on the scent coming out of the skin of your neck, exposed after you've tied your hair.
"Yes," I hear you say. It seems you are liking the attention I pay to everything you do.
"You shouldn't exert yourself with this." I lean slightly towards you, and my chest touches your back with a natural closeness, a gesture that is now but casual, and that do not cost us anything.
I pick a handful of dry flowers, and press them, before leaving them on the table, as a small mound of pink dust.
"InuYasha, your hair," you reprimand me, turning in the middle of the fortuitous hug I'm giving you, an attempt at severity in your gaze.
"What's wrong with it?" I note your voice darkening, and I become raptured by the infinite tones of pink on your cheeks. You remain silent for an instant.
"It's loose, and long, and soft." I perceive the way your heart begins to race a bit.
"Is that an issue?" I'm conscious of how your focus has changed, and of what we both seem to be thinking.
You hesitate for a moment, moving the stone inside the mortar again, slowly this time, despite the fact I've already done that job for you.
"Well, yes. I'm trying to make a dessert." The tone of your voice has become a rhythmic whisper, as you look at me again.
"With cherry blossoms," I mutter, then my gaze falls on your half-opened mouth, a gesture I read as the plea for a kiss.
"Of pink color…"
That's the last thing you say, before allowing me to take your lips.
Your sigh enters my ears, one I mirror with my own. The afternoon becomes more evident through the colors coming through the forest, and from the air coming through the half-opened door.
.
A/N
This drabble was inspired by three words my dear friend Len gave me: cherries, pink and sweet. That took me to think about the desserts that are made with rice flour, and to create a version made from cherry blossoms. I've seen some recipes including it.
I share this with you.
Pink kisses, with sweetness and a scent to cherry blossoms.
Anyara
This text is possible thanks to the translation of: Dezart