Requestfic for Raihu.
Originally requested from this meme, and it's long overdue. I wasn't sure whether you wanted yuri, raihu, but this idea wormed its way into my head and so it turned into platonic!pseudohate!fic instead. Hope you like it, dear!
A Friendship, Affected
She is five years old, drawing lines in the sand for the ants to crawl beside, the first time she sees her.
The other girl is pale, like a ghost, and her dark hair fans out behind her in a near-black halo that seems to give off a light of its own.
Kagome tilts her head, stares into brown eyes just like her own. “Who are you?”
The other girl smiles. “Me? I’m a priestess! You wanna be friends?”
Her smile is pretty, Kagome decides, pretty and happy and cheery, like a child’s should be. It is why she finds herself beaming back at her toothily, reaching with a dirt-covered hand to grasp the other girl’s white one.
It is why she says, “Yeah! Let’s be friends!”
-
Her name is Yuki, Kagome decides. Yuki because she’s so pale, and because the other girl never bothered to tell her what her real name was.
She knows Kagome’s name, though, and says it many times, rolls it around on her tongue like a piece of candy, like a new and unfamiliar word.
“I’ve heard about priestesses from my grandpa,” Kagome says to her when she’s seven and Yuki is too. “They keep things pure, right?”
“Yeah,” Yuki says, nodding, “Though I’m only in training, I’m still trying my best. Soon I’ll be the best priestess in Musashi’s Domain, you’ll see!”
Kagome has never heard of Musashi’s Domain, but nods her head up and down at Yuki’s enthusiasm instead.
If it was up to her, she would be with Yuki forever.
-
“I wish I could be a priestess,” Kagome says offhandedly, twelve and still fidgeting in her middle school uniform. “School is hard, especially math, and being a priestess sounds like it’s more fun.”
“It’s not always fun,” Yuki says, watching with brown eyes gleaming with something akin to sadness as Kagome traces lines in the sand again. There are no ants this time of year, but still she does it, still she works. Yuki likes to think of Kagome as someone similar to herself, as someone who can work and work well and still be happy, maybe.
Maybe.
It’s about then that Kagome notices that Yuki’s skin has lost its glow, that the halo of beauty has vanished from around her hair.
Her smile’s just the same, though. Exactly the same, exactly like her own.
-
“Aren’t you too old to be playing with toys?”
“And aren’t you too old to be drawing in the dirt?”
Yuki’s responses have grown harsh with time, just as her skin has grown duller and her eyes more sad. She cradles said toy in her hands, and when Kagome asks to see it, Yuki keeps it to herself, holds it close, tries not to let anything extinguish the pale pink glow it emits.
“I am,” Kagome says, standing and brushing dirt off from her green skirt. “But no matter how old we get or how much we talk, you always come back when I’m playing in the sand.”
Yuki smiles. Even that has become sadder now. “You’re so childish,” she says, and Kagome almost think she sounds jealous. “Being a priestess… it is…”
And she fades away into light.
If Kagome listens hard enough, she can hear the sound of crying.
-
One day Kagome hasn’t even taken up her drawing stick yet when she hears a voice as familiar as her own whisper in her ear.
“I think, Kagome… I think I’ve fallen in love.”
The words scare her.
This little pinprick of pink light behind Kagome’s eyelids goes out.
-
The next day, she turns fifteen.
The ants around the well house scatter about in messy arrangements, no lines there to set them straight.
-
There may have been a time, once, when Kagome loved Yuki, in spite of her jealousy and sadness. Even she can’t remember it, can’t remember her name, can’t remember the feeling of having someone that understood her exactly, perfectly.
But she is fifteen now, fifteen and childish maybe (maybe), but by now, she’s grown up some, and so she’s grown to take up this pinprick of pink light herself, the burden of a priestess all on her own.
She has also grown to hate the name Kikyo, but as far as she’s concerned, this hate comes naturally.
~
Also had a sing-along to "Hotel California" in driver's ed today (or, rather, a mumble-along, because we all knew the words but we didn't want to appear too enthusiastic in front of our already too enthusiastic teacher). I'm really starting to enjoy the class more. Especially because my teacher lets me go over forty miles an hour if the speed limit is, um... fifty. Yeah. My parents tend to panic when I'm on the road.
Danielle: So... do you drive on real roads and stuff?
Me: Yeah. I drive on [name of highway] all the time until my mom reaches her maximum heart rate, and the we turn around.
A Friendship, Affected
She is five years old, drawing lines in the sand for the ants to crawl beside, the first time she sees her.
The other girl is pale, like a ghost, and her dark hair fans out behind her in a near-black halo that seems to give off a light of its own.
Kagome tilts her head, stares into brown eyes just like her own. “Who are you?”
The other girl smiles. “Me? I’m a priestess! You wanna be friends?”
Her smile is pretty, Kagome decides, pretty and happy and cheery, like a child’s should be. It is why she finds herself beaming back at her toothily, reaching with a dirt-covered hand to grasp the other girl’s white one.
It is why she says, “Yeah! Let’s be friends!”
-
Her name is Yuki, Kagome decides. Yuki because she’s so pale, and because the other girl never bothered to tell her what her real name was.
She knows Kagome’s name, though, and says it many times, rolls it around on her tongue like a piece of candy, like a new and unfamiliar word.
“I’ve heard about priestesses from my grandpa,” Kagome says to her when she’s seven and Yuki is too. “They keep things pure, right?”
“Yeah,” Yuki says, nodding, “Though I’m only in training, I’m still trying my best. Soon I’ll be the best priestess in Musashi’s Domain, you’ll see!”
Kagome has never heard of Musashi’s Domain, but nods her head up and down at Yuki’s enthusiasm instead.
If it was up to her, she would be with Yuki forever.
-
“I wish I could be a priestess,” Kagome says offhandedly, twelve and still fidgeting in her middle school uniform. “School is hard, especially math, and being a priestess sounds like it’s more fun.”
“It’s not always fun,” Yuki says, watching with brown eyes gleaming with something akin to sadness as Kagome traces lines in the sand again. There are no ants this time of year, but still she does it, still she works. Yuki likes to think of Kagome as someone similar to herself, as someone who can work and work well and still be happy, maybe.
Maybe.
It’s about then that Kagome notices that Yuki’s skin has lost its glow, that the halo of beauty has vanished from around her hair.
Her smile’s just the same, though. Exactly the same, exactly like her own.
-
“Aren’t you too old to be playing with toys?”
“And aren’t you too old to be drawing in the dirt?”
Yuki’s responses have grown harsh with time, just as her skin has grown duller and her eyes more sad. She cradles said toy in her hands, and when Kagome asks to see it, Yuki keeps it to herself, holds it close, tries not to let anything extinguish the pale pink glow it emits.
“I am,” Kagome says, standing and brushing dirt off from her green skirt. “But no matter how old we get or how much we talk, you always come back when I’m playing in the sand.”
Yuki smiles. Even that has become sadder now. “You’re so childish,” she says, and Kagome almost think she sounds jealous. “Being a priestess… it is…”
And she fades away into light.
If Kagome listens hard enough, she can hear the sound of crying.
-
One day Kagome hasn’t even taken up her drawing stick yet when she hears a voice as familiar as her own whisper in her ear.
“I think, Kagome… I think I’ve fallen in love.”
The words scare her.
This little pinprick of pink light behind Kagome’s eyelids goes out.
-
The next day, she turns fifteen.
The ants around the well house scatter about in messy arrangements, no lines there to set them straight.
-
There may have been a time, once, when Kagome loved Yuki, in spite of her jealousy and sadness. Even she can’t remember it, can’t remember her name, can’t remember the feeling of having someone that understood her exactly, perfectly.
But she is fifteen now, fifteen and childish maybe (maybe), but by now, she’s grown up some, and so she’s grown to take up this pinprick of pink light herself, the burden of a priestess all on her own.
She has also grown to hate the name Kikyo, but as far as she’s concerned, this hate comes naturally.
~
Also had a sing-along to "Hotel California" in driver's ed today (or, rather, a mumble-along, because we all knew the words but we didn't want to appear too enthusiastic in front of our already too enthusiastic teacher). I'm really starting to enjoy the class more. Especially because my teacher lets me go over forty miles an hour if the speed limit is, um... fifty. Yeah. My parents tend to panic when I'm on the road.
Danielle: So... do you drive on real roads and stuff?
Me: Yeah. I drive on [name of highway] all the time until my mom reaches her maximum heart rate, and the we turn around.