The Game ch. 3 rough draft
I've been on a severe Heroes kick the last two weeks, and I've been stuck on this chapter. But I think I've finally figured out where to go next. So this would be the rather rough beginning of the third chapter.
@---------------------@
Kyuzo awoke to an awful headache, a tight coil of frustration between her legs, and a feeling of heavy annoyance when she didn’t feel the warmth of another body. The blond samurai instantly chided herself for having grown accustomed to Kambei’s presence. These numerous encounters had only started a few weeks ago and already she felt too comfortable next to him. Cuddling in bed was something Kambei would do with a lover, not Kyuzo. Still, the bed felt too cold for her liking.
The knuckles on her left hand were ever so slightly tender, as if she had hit something with a closed fist. Kyuzo generally used a palm strike, not a closed fist punch. There was less danger to the delicate bones in the fingers and it was more accurately powerful. Had she hit someone? The vision of someone with orange hair immediately jumped to the front of her mind and she groaned as she remembered. She could only hope Heihachi wasn’t injured. As Kyuzo recalled, her aim had been off and she had hit his forehead, a blessing since she would have normally aimed for his nose. A broken nose was never pleasant and she felt a stab of guilt for an unprovoked attack on someone she got along with.
At least she was in her room and hadn’t stumbled into someone else’s. Nausea had engulfed her stomach by the time she got there, but where had she thrown up?
She vaguely recalled vomiting into a bucket that had mysteriously appeared in her room. Then, warm, roughened hands had held her hair out of her face, arms gently supporting her as she heaved. A cup of water pressed to her lips so she could sip and rinse her mouth. She knew who had done it. Even horribly drunk and nearly unconscious, Kyuzo still knew the feel of Kambei’s hands.
No one else would have dared enter her room unless they seriously believed she was in danger. Being sore in the morning from lying in an awkward position certainly wasn’t a danger. He had changed her from the soaked robe into a dry sleeping yukata, his hands never once straying.
The previously subdued desire had flared in the pit of her stomach when he had gently laid her on the double futon. Her hand snagged his sleeve and she asked him to stay. Or at least she thought that’s what she said. The request shouldn’t have amused him so much as he extricated himself from her embrace.
Kyuzo hoped she hadn’t said anything too embarrassing. Her pride had taken enough of a hit over the course of the evening.
Kyuzo pushed her body into a sitting position and her head throbbed. Food and water. That was what she needed.
Though she almost never left her room in her sleeping yukata, Kyuzo didn’t care at all this morning about getting dressed. It wasn’t unheard of for some of them to come to breakfast in their sleeping attire, though she had certainly never done so.
To hell with her clothes. If anyone had a problem, they could challenge her to a duel if they felt so strongly about it. She was in the mood to kill someone anyway.
But before she left, Kyuzo did make sure that her yukata was securely tied shut. No sense in giving Kambei any more opportunities than he already had.
@------------@
The sound of the door sliding open had Kyuzo instantly shutting her yukata. Once again, Kambei was the only one who would enter her room, especially without knocking first. He was also the only one who invoked such a reaction. The female warrior had been taught from a young age to ignore her bared skin when in a fight. If you were more concerned about your exposed breasts than your opponents sword, you would get yourself killed. Besides, if your opponent is too busy staring at your breasts and not your sword, then you can kill them that much quicker.
Kambei was an entirely different matter. He seemed to have a real knack for removing her clothes.
He had that annoyingly pleasant smile on his face and a tray with a steaming bowl on it in his hand.
“Miso soup,” He said in response to her questioning gaze. She continued to stare blankly at him.
“…Hangover remedy?” He added. “For your head?”
Kyuzo nodded, not about to let Kambei know that she had never had a hangover remedy. She was, however, going to kick Sensei’s ass when she found him in the afterlife. She always wondered how he recovered so quickly from a night of drinking. He had never bothered to let her know that there was actually a damn remedy for a hangover.
Miso had never been a particular favorite of hers, but it soothed her stomach as she sipped it. Kambei had moved to sit behind her on the futon and his hands pressed against her back, kneading and working the tension out of her spine. One hand went up to run through her hair and massage her scalp. Kyuzo nearly melted against him as her headache began to dissipate.
His chest vibrated with his chuckle, but Kyuzo ignored it. He could mock her as long as he didn’t stop massaging.
“You’re still going to pay for last night.” She put as much threat as possible into her voice, but it still came out as a dull murmur.
“I’m sure I will.”
@-------------------@
For now, that's what I have. I think I'm getting back in sync here, so this chapter will hopefully be finished and revised soon. I'm trying to delve into the more intimate side of their relationship. It's going into Kyuzo's insecurity about what they are to each other.
I call this the game because that's what it is. We all know that if Kyuzo really didn't want Kambei, then no way in hell would he be able to do what he did in the hot spring. A game involving the strange natural trust they seem to have in one another. And this segment would be half-time. I do believe it's Kyuzo's turn now. *rubs hands together evilly*
@---------------------@
Kyuzo awoke to an awful headache, a tight coil of frustration between her legs, and a feeling of heavy annoyance when she didn’t feel the warmth of another body. The blond samurai instantly chided herself for having grown accustomed to Kambei’s presence. These numerous encounters had only started a few weeks ago and already she felt too comfortable next to him. Cuddling in bed was something Kambei would do with a lover, not Kyuzo. Still, the bed felt too cold for her liking.
The knuckles on her left hand were ever so slightly tender, as if she had hit something with a closed fist. Kyuzo generally used a palm strike, not a closed fist punch. There was less danger to the delicate bones in the fingers and it was more accurately powerful. Had she hit someone? The vision of someone with orange hair immediately jumped to the front of her mind and she groaned as she remembered. She could only hope Heihachi wasn’t injured. As Kyuzo recalled, her aim had been off and she had hit his forehead, a blessing since she would have normally aimed for his nose. A broken nose was never pleasant and she felt a stab of guilt for an unprovoked attack on someone she got along with.
At least she was in her room and hadn’t stumbled into someone else’s. Nausea had engulfed her stomach by the time she got there, but where had she thrown up?
She vaguely recalled vomiting into a bucket that had mysteriously appeared in her room. Then, warm, roughened hands had held her hair out of her face, arms gently supporting her as she heaved. A cup of water pressed to her lips so she could sip and rinse her mouth. She knew who had done it. Even horribly drunk and nearly unconscious, Kyuzo still knew the feel of Kambei’s hands.
No one else would have dared enter her room unless they seriously believed she was in danger. Being sore in the morning from lying in an awkward position certainly wasn’t a danger. He had changed her from the soaked robe into a dry sleeping yukata, his hands never once straying.
The previously subdued desire had flared in the pit of her stomach when he had gently laid her on the double futon. Her hand snagged his sleeve and she asked him to stay. Or at least she thought that’s what she said. The request shouldn’t have amused him so much as he extricated himself from her embrace.
Kyuzo hoped she hadn’t said anything too embarrassing. Her pride had taken enough of a hit over the course of the evening.
Kyuzo pushed her body into a sitting position and her head throbbed. Food and water. That was what she needed.
Though she almost never left her room in her sleeping yukata, Kyuzo didn’t care at all this morning about getting dressed. It wasn’t unheard of for some of them to come to breakfast in their sleeping attire, though she had certainly never done so.
To hell with her clothes. If anyone had a problem, they could challenge her to a duel if they felt so strongly about it. She was in the mood to kill someone anyway.
But before she left, Kyuzo did make sure that her yukata was securely tied shut. No sense in giving Kambei any more opportunities than he already had.
@------------@
The sound of the door sliding open had Kyuzo instantly shutting her yukata. Once again, Kambei was the only one who would enter her room, especially without knocking first. He was also the only one who invoked such a reaction. The female warrior had been taught from a young age to ignore her bared skin when in a fight. If you were more concerned about your exposed breasts than your opponents sword, you would get yourself killed. Besides, if your opponent is too busy staring at your breasts and not your sword, then you can kill them that much quicker.
Kambei was an entirely different matter. He seemed to have a real knack for removing her clothes.
He had that annoyingly pleasant smile on his face and a tray with a steaming bowl on it in his hand.
“Miso soup,” He said in response to her questioning gaze. She continued to stare blankly at him.
“…Hangover remedy?” He added. “For your head?”
Kyuzo nodded, not about to let Kambei know that she had never had a hangover remedy. She was, however, going to kick Sensei’s ass when she found him in the afterlife. She always wondered how he recovered so quickly from a night of drinking. He had never bothered to let her know that there was actually a damn remedy for a hangover.
Miso had never been a particular favorite of hers, but it soothed her stomach as she sipped it. Kambei had moved to sit behind her on the futon and his hands pressed against her back, kneading and working the tension out of her spine. One hand went up to run through her hair and massage her scalp. Kyuzo nearly melted against him as her headache began to dissipate.
His chest vibrated with his chuckle, but Kyuzo ignored it. He could mock her as long as he didn’t stop massaging.
“You’re still going to pay for last night.” She put as much threat as possible into her voice, but it still came out as a dull murmur.
“I’m sure I will.”
@-------------------@
For now, that's what I have. I think I'm getting back in sync here, so this chapter will hopefully be finished and revised soon. I'm trying to delve into the more intimate side of their relationship. It's going into Kyuzo's insecurity about what they are to each other.
I call this the game because that's what it is. We all know that if Kyuzo really didn't want Kambei, then no way in hell would he be able to do what he did in the hot spring. A game involving the strange natural trust they seem to have in one another. And this segment would be half-time. I do believe it's Kyuzo's turn now. *rubs hands together evilly*