on transcending boundaries: story fragment
Where did this come from? I don't even know. I was just sitting in my American romanticism class listening to a lecture on Elizabeth Stoddard, and...THIS happened. I mean, I like it. I really, really like it. I'm on such a Himawari kick lately. And this fic reads sort of shippy. It's not supposed to be-I don't ship this couple on a regular basis. Then again, CLAMP is sort of destroying my idea of what 'a regular basis' is. Maybe I should keep my eyes open.
"You're late," he said when she walked in.
"You know," she said in conversational tones as she let the dusty knapsack drop, "I'm beginning to see what he was talking about when he said you had no social graces."
He ignored this, focusing instead on the long, shallow scratch across her cheek. He lowered his tea. "What happened?"
"I think it was some kind of berry bush," she said, tugging off the grimy bandanna and undoing her long plait. "Lots of thorns. I had to crawl underneath it to get through a hole in the fence around the property. I almost dropped this."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a smooth, flat stone, such as could be found on any stretch of shoreline. It glittered in her palm, small deposits of lustrous mineral embedded in the surface. To his eyes, it also flickered with another light, a murky aura radiating from it.
"You should be more careful," he said.
She knew he was talking about the scratch, not the stone. She shook her head anyway. "I try," she said, placing the stone on the table in front of him. Its glow muted when it left contact with her skin, then vanished altogether as his proximity overcame it. "But the choice between speed and safety isn't an easy or convenient one."
He was frowning at her now. She knew he didn't like the idea of her placing herself in danger, just as much as he hated that he couldn't help her. Still, this was her decision and her responsibility. She'd do her best, and he'd have to be satisfied with that.
Reading the worry in his eyes, she smiled a little and skirted the table. She sank to the floor beside his chair without any semblance of dignity and moaned with the relief of being off her feet for the first time in days.
"Do you want some tea?" he asked her.
"No," she said with a quiet sigh. "I just want to sit." She leaned her head against his leg, and he rested a hand on her tangled curls.
They sat in companionable silence for a while. She timed her breathing to her heartbeat and let her eyes drift shut. Just being beside him after difficult retrievals like this one made her feel better; she wasn't sure if it was his inner power or the simple knowledge that he was here for her. The fingers he wove into her hair rubbed soothing circles into her temple, massaging away the headache brought on by lack of sleep and proper nutrition. She pressed grateful lips to his knee.
"It fought me," she whispered into the fabric of his yukata. "Or-it fought your wards. I could feel it struggling against them." Her eyes fell on the bracelet of red and white carved bone beads that circled her wrist. "I think it was trying to break them, or at least slip past them to get to me."
Little wonder she was exhausted, if she'd spent the last three days locked in a struggle for her soul while making her way home across bridges through other worlds.
"Are you hurt?" He'd need to take at look at the bracelet later to be sure the wards still held-and he'd see to the other injuries she'd no doubt accumulated, as well.
He felt her smile. "No," she said. "Just tired. Do you think w-I could take a nap before we head over to the shop?"
She'd covered the slip, but he knew her too well to have missed it, and she mattered too much for him to ignore it. He rose to his feet, pulling her up with him.
"We'll go after dinner," he said, and led the way to the bedroom. She followed, about to protest that she could sleep by herself, but the sight of the futon already prepared made her laugh instead.
"You," she told him, "are my hero." She shrugged off her coat and tattered blouse and slipped off her slacks. It didn't bother her to be half-naked in front of him; he'd seen her so before, and would again. He didn't say anything about the bruise on her hip or the scrape on her collarbone; they weren't life-threatening and didn't seem to be bothering her, so he would look at them tonight.
"I should have a bath first," she said, but it was half-hearted.
"Later," he said, handing her one of his shirts. She wriggled into it; it fell to her knees and the sleeves covered her hands. She rolled up the cuffs. The clean cloth-oh, how she missed being clean when she was on a retrieval-smelled of detergent and him...and home.
He was waiting for her. She crawled into the futon and half on top of him, seeking the warmth of his body. She cuddled close as he drew the blanket up; his arms came around her in an embrace meant to reassure them both. She sighed in contentment, tucking her head under his chin as her eyelids fluttered. Peace settled over her, the gentleness and calm that was his namesake and his gift to her.
"Missed you," she mumbled, the words slurred as she slid into sleep. She heard his hum of agreement, felt his arms tighten for a brief moment, before blessed darkness swept her away.
Well. That was fun. No, I mean it. I enjoyed writing that a whole helluva lot. I'd forgotten how much I missed genfic. >.> And it is genfic, truly. There are no sexual implications or undertones here. I hope it doesn't read that way. The story I'm imagining is:
Himawari knows she can't visit the shop because its defenses can't quite withstand her influence. So she makes a bargain with Watanuki: she'll go find items of power in other worlds, bring them to Shizuka, and if it turns out they'll bolster the shop's wards against her bad luck, give them to Watanuki. Shizuka helps, of course, by exorcising evil spirits in the items and purifying them, but he can't help her find them because it's her wish, so the quests are hers alone. He does aid her retrievals in one way: he gives her a bracelet made of the bones of Doumeki family priests-ancestors in whose blood ran the same power Shizuka holds. (Anyone who's read Fruits Basket, you'll recognize this little trinket as the one Kyou wears to hold his other form in check.) While she's wearing the bracelet, Himawari is shielded from the brunt of any evil powers the items may possess. Heh-Shizuka might not be able to dog her footsteps like he once did Watanuki's, but he's not about to leave her unprotected. What an awesome guy, that Shizuka.
Anyway, this system has been going on for long enough that they've gotten quite comfortable with one another. Himawari relies on Shizuka to take care of the items, but he also takes care of her because she's important to him and he's really all she has left in the world. He's the only person besides her parents who can love her in any capacity without suffering for it, so he offers what he can: a home to return to, and a family to wait for her.
That...is an intense description. Yes, there are elements of fandom cliche in there-the world-hopping, for one thing. But every xxxHOLiC fan writes a world-hopping fic at least once. My favorite of those fics are flakedice's, for instance, especially vampire-bait!Watanuki. *g*
I kinda want to extend this, but I think the emotional impact it would have on me would devastate me. My current Himawari fic is already wreaking havoc on my heart, so I think I'll either leave this one as is or offer it up for adoption. Any takers? Should I post it as a holicminibang prompt? Hmm, I wonder...
"You're late," he said when she walked in.
"You know," she said in conversational tones as she let the dusty knapsack drop, "I'm beginning to see what he was talking about when he said you had no social graces."
He ignored this, focusing instead on the long, shallow scratch across her cheek. He lowered his tea. "What happened?"
"I think it was some kind of berry bush," she said, tugging off the grimy bandanna and undoing her long plait. "Lots of thorns. I had to crawl underneath it to get through a hole in the fence around the property. I almost dropped this."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a smooth, flat stone, such as could be found on any stretch of shoreline. It glittered in her palm, small deposits of lustrous mineral embedded in the surface. To his eyes, it also flickered with another light, a murky aura radiating from it.
"You should be more careful," he said.
She knew he was talking about the scratch, not the stone. She shook her head anyway. "I try," she said, placing the stone on the table in front of him. Its glow muted when it left contact with her skin, then vanished altogether as his proximity overcame it. "But the choice between speed and safety isn't an easy or convenient one."
He was frowning at her now. She knew he didn't like the idea of her placing herself in danger, just as much as he hated that he couldn't help her. Still, this was her decision and her responsibility. She'd do her best, and he'd have to be satisfied with that.
Reading the worry in his eyes, she smiled a little and skirted the table. She sank to the floor beside his chair without any semblance of dignity and moaned with the relief of being off her feet for the first time in days.
"Do you want some tea?" he asked her.
"No," she said with a quiet sigh. "I just want to sit." She leaned her head against his leg, and he rested a hand on her tangled curls.
They sat in companionable silence for a while. She timed her breathing to her heartbeat and let her eyes drift shut. Just being beside him after difficult retrievals like this one made her feel better; she wasn't sure if it was his inner power or the simple knowledge that he was here for her. The fingers he wove into her hair rubbed soothing circles into her temple, massaging away the headache brought on by lack of sleep and proper nutrition. She pressed grateful lips to his knee.
"It fought me," she whispered into the fabric of his yukata. "Or-it fought your wards. I could feel it struggling against them." Her eyes fell on the bracelet of red and white carved bone beads that circled her wrist. "I think it was trying to break them, or at least slip past them to get to me."
Little wonder she was exhausted, if she'd spent the last three days locked in a struggle for her soul while making her way home across bridges through other worlds.
"Are you hurt?" He'd need to take at look at the bracelet later to be sure the wards still held-and he'd see to the other injuries she'd no doubt accumulated, as well.
He felt her smile. "No," she said. "Just tired. Do you think w-I could take a nap before we head over to the shop?"
She'd covered the slip, but he knew her too well to have missed it, and she mattered too much for him to ignore it. He rose to his feet, pulling her up with him.
"We'll go after dinner," he said, and led the way to the bedroom. She followed, about to protest that she could sleep by herself, but the sight of the futon already prepared made her laugh instead.
"You," she told him, "are my hero." She shrugged off her coat and tattered blouse and slipped off her slacks. It didn't bother her to be half-naked in front of him; he'd seen her so before, and would again. He didn't say anything about the bruise on her hip or the scrape on her collarbone; they weren't life-threatening and didn't seem to be bothering her, so he would look at them tonight.
"I should have a bath first," she said, but it was half-hearted.
"Later," he said, handing her one of his shirts. She wriggled into it; it fell to her knees and the sleeves covered her hands. She rolled up the cuffs. The clean cloth-oh, how she missed being clean when she was on a retrieval-smelled of detergent and him...and home.
He was waiting for her. She crawled into the futon and half on top of him, seeking the warmth of his body. She cuddled close as he drew the blanket up; his arms came around her in an embrace meant to reassure them both. She sighed in contentment, tucking her head under his chin as her eyelids fluttered. Peace settled over her, the gentleness and calm that was his namesake and his gift to her.
"Missed you," she mumbled, the words slurred as she slid into sleep. She heard his hum of agreement, felt his arms tighten for a brief moment, before blessed darkness swept her away.
Well. That was fun. No, I mean it. I enjoyed writing that a whole helluva lot. I'd forgotten how much I missed genfic. >.> And it is genfic, truly. There are no sexual implications or undertones here. I hope it doesn't read that way. The story I'm imagining is:
Himawari knows she can't visit the shop because its defenses can't quite withstand her influence. So she makes a bargain with Watanuki: she'll go find items of power in other worlds, bring them to Shizuka, and if it turns out they'll bolster the shop's wards against her bad luck, give them to Watanuki. Shizuka helps, of course, by exorcising evil spirits in the items and purifying them, but he can't help her find them because it's her wish, so the quests are hers alone. He does aid her retrievals in one way: he gives her a bracelet made of the bones of Doumeki family priests-ancestors in whose blood ran the same power Shizuka holds. (Anyone who's read Fruits Basket, you'll recognize this little trinket as the one Kyou wears to hold his other form in check.) While she's wearing the bracelet, Himawari is shielded from the brunt of any evil powers the items may possess. Heh-Shizuka might not be able to dog her footsteps like he once did Watanuki's, but he's not about to leave her unprotected. What an awesome guy, that Shizuka.
Anyway, this system has been going on for long enough that they've gotten quite comfortable with one another. Himawari relies on Shizuka to take care of the items, but he also takes care of her because she's important to him and he's really all she has left in the world. He's the only person besides her parents who can love her in any capacity without suffering for it, so he offers what he can: a home to return to, and a family to wait for her.
That...is an intense description. Yes, there are elements of fandom cliche in there-the world-hopping, for one thing. But every xxxHOLiC fan writes a world-hopping fic at least once. My favorite of those fics are flakedice's, for instance, especially vampire-bait!Watanuki. *g*
I kinda want to extend this, but I think the emotional impact it would have on me would devastate me. My current Himawari fic is already wreaking havoc on my heart, so I think I'll either leave this one as is or offer it up for adoption. Any takers? Should I post it as a holicminibang prompt? Hmm, I wonder...