Higa /Loveless~ drabblishness
Title: of pride and falling
rating: G
Pairing: Kite, Kai, Rin - gen
1000 words on ze dot. Couldn't do that again if I tried. reposoir is twice the enabler I am. :D
Of pride and falling
Pain was not always a negative thing. Kite Eishirou’s mother was fond of telling him so and she lived her life and conducted herself in such a fashion so as to always demonstrate precisely what such a saying meant. Her teachings did not go unheeded for never did understanding dawn so bright and so complete than when Kite had worked himself hard enough to actually hurt.
And he did. Hurt.
His muscles were near trembling with fatigue and his lungs ached for the extended romp in the ocean that he’d insisted they all partake in. They’d grumbled, but they’d followed him in the end. Truthfully, Kite had anticipated no other outcome.
Knee-deep in the surf with hands balled into fists at his hips, he dug his toes into the sand and surveyed the endless expanse of ocean and sky before him. Way, way out - past the breakers - there were birds and whitecaps and the occasional ship set against a glorious backdrop of oranges and pinks and reds and Kite wondered if he ever looked even half so magnificent. It was not a question he would ever ask of his teammates. Indeed, it was not something he could ponder in the privacy of his own mind without somehow feeling inconsequential and ridiculous. But sometimes he wished that he could - ask the question - and receive an immediate, resounding affirmation from the boys that he led.
As it was, he would have to satisfy himself with their tenacity and drive for victory and console himself with the certainty that they trusted him, respected him and harbored just enough fear of him to render their devotion absolute.
They were his boys and some part of him was theirs, in turn. He found, upon further reflection, that he rather liked the implications of a connection so fierce.
“Yo, Eishirou!” Rin called to him, waving wildly as though he weren’t less than thirty feet away and - at his side - Kai waved his own greeting.
Head turned in profile - his sideways glance all the response he offered - Kite watched his teammates approach. Kai tugged off his cap to shake his unruly hair free and when he slung an arm around Rin’s shoulders, he settled the hat onto the taller boy’s still-damp, sun-bleached hair. Rin smiled and didn’t object.
“Buchou!” Kai called out to him. “It’s getting late, let’s roll.”
Shoulders lifting in silent amusement and obvious dismissal, Kite turned his attention back to the scenery before him and tipped his face toward the sky. The evening breeze lifted the stands at the back of his neck and he could feel the salt drying on his skin - tight and sun-darkened. He thought about his bedroom and the cool shower he would take later while the night air drifted into his room through his half-opened window.
He could hear them behind him, whispering to one another, roughhousing and trading jibes and empty, playful threats. Kai’s laughter was low and almost sinister - quite the contrast to Rin’s softer, sweeter laugh. He could smile, while his back was turned, and his heart surged with pride and possessiveness that these were the ones who would stand at his back and - always - there was the raw, sharp feel of an insatiable desire to be the best. Better than everyone - anywhere.
“You deaf, Buchou?” Kai asked, his voice much closer than before, and Rin snickered - trying for sneaky and circumspect and falling far short of the mark.
“I hear every word you say,” he told them ominously, wondering if they’d watched him for as long as he’d watched the ocean.
“Yeah?” Rin countered, and Kite could smell him when he drew near - brine and tanning oil and the remnants of sunshine clinging to the strands of his hair.
“Indeed,” he affirmed, clenching his jaw when the ache in his calves became great. Against the sway and the pull of the tide, he’d held himself still - immovable and unbreakable - even knowing that his early-morning run would hurt like hell.
“Everybody else went home,” Rin told him, voice sweet over Kite’s right shoulder even as Kai’s lower, huskier voice chimed in over the left.
“Yeah, they got tired of waiting.” There was no mistaking his accusatory tone, though Kite recognized the playfulness beneath it.
“Oh? But you didn’t?” He didn’t look at them, didn’t move a muscle, though they had long since moved too close for Kite’s comfort.
“No,” Rin told him, soft skin of his wrist brushing Kite’s elbow. “We wanted to wait.”
Lips quirking in the barest hint of a smile, Kite nudged his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and watched the sun begin its slow descent into the sea. He couldn’t hide the satisfaction that Rin’s admission brought, any more than he could pretend he didn’t relish their devotion to him.
“For what?” he asked, voice light, seeking just a bit more. Just another confirmation of his worth to the both of them.
“Well,” Rin began - and Kite reminded himself to later reflect on Rin’s ability to turn certain syllables to very nearly a purr - one palm flat at Kite’s back.
“For this,” Kai said, matter-of-fact and unapologetic when he swept Kite’s feet from beneath him. Unable to maintain his balance, Kite fell forward into the surf - with Rin at his back and Kai following after. Into the water, into the sand - warm, shallow, grainy at his hands and knees - they burrowed, Kai’s laughter audible to Kite even when his head was completely submerged.
He rolled to his back, glasses askew and hair a bird’s nest of sticky pomade and saltwater, and glared up at the two boys hovering above him.
Then he lunged, and they yelled and scrambled and laughed, kicking up surf and sand in an attempt to evade Kite’s wrath.
He gave chase, but the wind in his face and the sound of their laughter far outweighed the gravity of the indignity they’d visited upon him.
And they really weren’t running all that fast, anyway.
title: without
rating: pg
paring: Seimei/Soubi - Kio/Soubi
403 wordages for shikishi. Because.
without
Soubi offered no explanation the day he was late meeting Seimei on the outskirts of the clearing. Stepping out of forest with his hair unbound, near-defiance clear behind the lenses of his glasses, he stood stock-still and simply allowed Seimei to look his fill. His coat billowed, the wind lifting long strands of his hair and this time - this first time - there were no soft, pale ears emerging from the hair that fell in waves around his shoulders.
“You’re late,” Seimei said, the edge in his voice hard and controlled.
Closing the distance between them, Soubi held his silence and bowed his head when he knelt before his Sacrifice. Seimei touched his hair - where his ears used to be - and didn’t say a word.
+ + +
It was not Seimei’s habit to chase Soubi. With no desire to extend himself beyond that which he could not control, his hold on his Fighter was absolute. Short of death, there was nothing that could separate them and Soubi knew it. The guarded, secretive look in Kio’s eyes when he caught glimpses of Seimei over Soubi’s shoulder said that he knew it, too.
+ + +
Their first battle - after - was as much between themselves as the two they were meant to fight. The current running just under the words Soubi whispered - the anger, the jealousy, the evasion - tasted like betrayal at the back of Seimei’s throat and he stored power inside him that he rarely unleashed but could not hold back when he allowed himself to think about Kio’s hands on Soubi’s body.
Victorious, as they always were, Seimei found that he could not release Soubi when the battle had been won. Strength sapped and barely cognizant of his surroundings, Soubi stumbled through remnants of his own magic to collapse into Seimei’s arms.
Seimei stroked his hair, where his ears used to be, and realized that no matter how sweetly he clung, he harbored no regret for his thoughtless betrayal. ‘It wasn’t what you think,’ he’d told Seimei. ‘You and I - this - we’re untouchable.’
Seimei tightened his grip on Soubi’s neck, pressing his face to Seimei’s shoulder and seemingly content to suffocate him in the folds of his coat. He wouldn’t, though. Not really. He knew his own fate and Soubi’s, besides and he would never belong to Kio.
Not in any sense of the word. Not even when Seimei was gone.
rating: G
Pairing: Kite, Kai, Rin - gen
1000 words on ze dot. Couldn't do that again if I tried. reposoir is twice the enabler I am. :D
Of pride and falling
Pain was not always a negative thing. Kite Eishirou’s mother was fond of telling him so and she lived her life and conducted herself in such a fashion so as to always demonstrate precisely what such a saying meant. Her teachings did not go unheeded for never did understanding dawn so bright and so complete than when Kite had worked himself hard enough to actually hurt.
And he did. Hurt.
His muscles were near trembling with fatigue and his lungs ached for the extended romp in the ocean that he’d insisted they all partake in. They’d grumbled, but they’d followed him in the end. Truthfully, Kite had anticipated no other outcome.
Knee-deep in the surf with hands balled into fists at his hips, he dug his toes into the sand and surveyed the endless expanse of ocean and sky before him. Way, way out - past the breakers - there were birds and whitecaps and the occasional ship set against a glorious backdrop of oranges and pinks and reds and Kite wondered if he ever looked even half so magnificent. It was not a question he would ever ask of his teammates. Indeed, it was not something he could ponder in the privacy of his own mind without somehow feeling inconsequential and ridiculous. But sometimes he wished that he could - ask the question - and receive an immediate, resounding affirmation from the boys that he led.
As it was, he would have to satisfy himself with their tenacity and drive for victory and console himself with the certainty that they trusted him, respected him and harbored just enough fear of him to render their devotion absolute.
They were his boys and some part of him was theirs, in turn. He found, upon further reflection, that he rather liked the implications of a connection so fierce.
“Yo, Eishirou!” Rin called to him, waving wildly as though he weren’t less than thirty feet away and - at his side - Kai waved his own greeting.
Head turned in profile - his sideways glance all the response he offered - Kite watched his teammates approach. Kai tugged off his cap to shake his unruly hair free and when he slung an arm around Rin’s shoulders, he settled the hat onto the taller boy’s still-damp, sun-bleached hair. Rin smiled and didn’t object.
“Buchou!” Kai called out to him. “It’s getting late, let’s roll.”
Shoulders lifting in silent amusement and obvious dismissal, Kite turned his attention back to the scenery before him and tipped his face toward the sky. The evening breeze lifted the stands at the back of his neck and he could feel the salt drying on his skin - tight and sun-darkened. He thought about his bedroom and the cool shower he would take later while the night air drifted into his room through his half-opened window.
He could hear them behind him, whispering to one another, roughhousing and trading jibes and empty, playful threats. Kai’s laughter was low and almost sinister - quite the contrast to Rin’s softer, sweeter laugh. He could smile, while his back was turned, and his heart surged with pride and possessiveness that these were the ones who would stand at his back and - always - there was the raw, sharp feel of an insatiable desire to be the best. Better than everyone - anywhere.
“You deaf, Buchou?” Kai asked, his voice much closer than before, and Rin snickered - trying for sneaky and circumspect and falling far short of the mark.
“I hear every word you say,” he told them ominously, wondering if they’d watched him for as long as he’d watched the ocean.
“Yeah?” Rin countered, and Kite could smell him when he drew near - brine and tanning oil and the remnants of sunshine clinging to the strands of his hair.
“Indeed,” he affirmed, clenching his jaw when the ache in his calves became great. Against the sway and the pull of the tide, he’d held himself still - immovable and unbreakable - even knowing that his early-morning run would hurt like hell.
“Everybody else went home,” Rin told him, voice sweet over Kite’s right shoulder even as Kai’s lower, huskier voice chimed in over the left.
“Yeah, they got tired of waiting.” There was no mistaking his accusatory tone, though Kite recognized the playfulness beneath it.
“Oh? But you didn’t?” He didn’t look at them, didn’t move a muscle, though they had long since moved too close for Kite’s comfort.
“No,” Rin told him, soft skin of his wrist brushing Kite’s elbow. “We wanted to wait.”
Lips quirking in the barest hint of a smile, Kite nudged his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and watched the sun begin its slow descent into the sea. He couldn’t hide the satisfaction that Rin’s admission brought, any more than he could pretend he didn’t relish their devotion to him.
“For what?” he asked, voice light, seeking just a bit more. Just another confirmation of his worth to the both of them.
“Well,” Rin began - and Kite reminded himself to later reflect on Rin’s ability to turn certain syllables to very nearly a purr - one palm flat at Kite’s back.
“For this,” Kai said, matter-of-fact and unapologetic when he swept Kite’s feet from beneath him. Unable to maintain his balance, Kite fell forward into the surf - with Rin at his back and Kai following after. Into the water, into the sand - warm, shallow, grainy at his hands and knees - they burrowed, Kai’s laughter audible to Kite even when his head was completely submerged.
He rolled to his back, glasses askew and hair a bird’s nest of sticky pomade and saltwater, and glared up at the two boys hovering above him.
Then he lunged, and they yelled and scrambled and laughed, kicking up surf and sand in an attempt to evade Kite’s wrath.
He gave chase, but the wind in his face and the sound of their laughter far outweighed the gravity of the indignity they’d visited upon him.
And they really weren’t running all that fast, anyway.
title: without
rating: pg
paring: Seimei/Soubi - Kio/Soubi
403 wordages for shikishi. Because.
without
Soubi offered no explanation the day he was late meeting Seimei on the outskirts of the clearing. Stepping out of forest with his hair unbound, near-defiance clear behind the lenses of his glasses, he stood stock-still and simply allowed Seimei to look his fill. His coat billowed, the wind lifting long strands of his hair and this time - this first time - there were no soft, pale ears emerging from the hair that fell in waves around his shoulders.
“You’re late,” Seimei said, the edge in his voice hard and controlled.
Closing the distance between them, Soubi held his silence and bowed his head when he knelt before his Sacrifice. Seimei touched his hair - where his ears used to be - and didn’t say a word.
+ + +
It was not Seimei’s habit to chase Soubi. With no desire to extend himself beyond that which he could not control, his hold on his Fighter was absolute. Short of death, there was nothing that could separate them and Soubi knew it. The guarded, secretive look in Kio’s eyes when he caught glimpses of Seimei over Soubi’s shoulder said that he knew it, too.
+ + +
Their first battle - after - was as much between themselves as the two they were meant to fight. The current running just under the words Soubi whispered - the anger, the jealousy, the evasion - tasted like betrayal at the back of Seimei’s throat and he stored power inside him that he rarely unleashed but could not hold back when he allowed himself to think about Kio’s hands on Soubi’s body.
Victorious, as they always were, Seimei found that he could not release Soubi when the battle had been won. Strength sapped and barely cognizant of his surroundings, Soubi stumbled through remnants of his own magic to collapse into Seimei’s arms.
Seimei stroked his hair, where his ears used to be, and realized that no matter how sweetly he clung, he harbored no regret for his thoughtless betrayal. ‘It wasn’t what you think,’ he’d told Seimei. ‘You and I - this - we’re untouchable.’
Seimei tightened his grip on Soubi’s neck, pressing his face to Seimei’s shoulder and seemingly content to suffocate him in the folds of his coat. He wouldn’t, though. Not really. He knew his own fate and Soubi’s, besides and he would never belong to Kio.
Not in any sense of the word. Not even when Seimei was gone.