Llybian Minamino
Forlorn Hope
Rated: PG-13
Written: 3/14/05
Comments: I'm not much for fanfiction (outside of humor) but I could never find enough fanfiction for this pairing, and I always felt it deserved more. So, of course, I had to write one. I'm almost positive this only merits a PG-13 rating, it is a little...shall we say...suggestive, but nothing more. Anyway, if you like this pairing please spread the love, because I don't like stepping out of the humor genre
Battle
by Llybian Minamino
Months have passed since the fall of the Juppongatana, and the end of Shishio’s misplaced ambition. The air has grown chill, and the precursor to winter is at work subtly amongst my surroundings of dead leaves and stricken trees.
And Kenshin Himura is dropping by to take me up on my offer of tea.
Inside I smile, but just a little, as I slide the door of my new home shut to seal away the cold, dry air of the outside. I must admit that I enjoy this time of year most of all the seasons. The quiet time toward the end of autumn, as winter makes its approach.
The strength and control of this season…I used to think that the two of us were alike…but in the end the frost always breaks into spring. A true sign of its inborn weakness.
Himura… if there is anyone who could be said to be the embodiment of spring, it is he.
True, he did defeat me. His ways won out in the end, and I realize the title of the strongest is not mine. I have accepted this, but few things have changed. I am still winter, and I cannot change who I am, nor would I if given the choice.
But battle is battle, and this is different. There is nothing to win here, and I needn’t be pondering such things.
A light rap at my door awakens me from my musings, and even before I can arise to greet my guest the door slides open. A figure rushes in and abruptly closes the door.
Himura.
He anxiously looks in my direction and says with an apologetic smile, “Hello, I’m sorry for bursting in like this, but it’s gotten so cold outside lately.”
I nod, but say nothing, not everyone likes the cold after all.
I rise, and force myself to look at him directly. It seems as though nothing has changed. He stares back at my with those wide lavender eyes, a fair, kind face to behold. He looks nothing like that of a warrior, no cruel, cold eyes suspiciously darting around the room, not the stoic expression of a soldier hardened by war. Just looking at him, he could be easily underestimated.
But I know better.
His expression has shifted to become slightly anxious at my silent glance, which I only now realize has turned into a stare.
I turn my eyes downward, and say clearly, “My apologies, won’t you sit down?”
We both sat down, and at my motion he took up the cup of tea I had prepared for him.
After a long drink of the hot tea, for the weather outside must have indeed left him quite chilled, he once again looked up and said conversationally, “So how’ve you been, Aoshi?”
“Well enough.” I answered back, taking my own warm mug and sipping, “And you?”
“Things have been going nicely for me as well,” He said eagerly, hoping to keep a conversation going, “Yahiko’s swordsmanship is improving extraordinarily, though I suppose,” he said with a laugh, “Most students haven’t had to face the challenges he’s been presented with.”
Another sip, “So how have Misao and Sir Okina been?”
“I wouldn’t really know I’m afraid.” I replied, “Since I moved out, I haven’t seen much of either. Misao drops by every so often, with fare from the Aoiya, but she doesn’t stay long.”
“That’s kind of her.”
At my lack of response he continued, “Why did you move out of the Aoiya, anyway?” silence. “That is if you don’t mind my asking.”
“I needed more solitude, life at the Aoiya was filled with far too many…” a pause, searching for the correct word, “…interruptions.”
“Ah.” Himura murmured, and there didn’t seem to be much else to say. Silence once again reigned over the room, and in that silence I watched and thought.
Even after that final fight, a tension still remained strong between the two of us. Perhaps, my convictions that I had truly “given up” on the title of the strongest were just self delusion?
But I had been so sure…
I watched as Himura lifted his mug casually to his mouth, fingers so pale that they were nearly white gripped the mug, leeching its warmth.
His travel attire was the same as the last time I had seen him, a patched and frayed kimono, that was probably just about a size too big for him. It hung loosely on his shoulders…
…as though waiting to be pulled away.
What a strange thing to think! I thought to myself, as I drank more tea as a cover to break eye contact.
But even as this thought has broken through, I cannot seem to persuade it to leave. I avert my eyes toward the floor, unable to look at him.
But no…I have not yet become so weak that he can have this effect on me. I put my mug down, a little louder than I intended, and force myself to turn my eyes back toward his. Demure, lavender eyes…
He gazed back, questioningly, from my forced stare, to the empty mug I had clanged down. “Did you want some more tea?” Himura asked, rather confusedly, as he bent to reach for the kettle.
Hardly understanding my own odd behavior, I reach for his hand to stop his action. Feeling his velvet skin, but just for that second, as goose-bumps rose under my hand.
And somehow, my fingers traveled upwards to grip his wrist, unwilling to let go.
It all happened so quickly…I crawled, almost manically, over the table and pinned him to the ground, still holding his wrist up high above my head. I stared into the deep, swirling lilac eyes that gaped widely back at me in shock.
“Aoshi…?”
At the strange, pure note of his voice I seemed to awake, as though from a dream.
My own eyes widened, as I became aware of where I was. I backed off, and tore my eyes away from his, rushing over to a corner of the room and turning away from him.
The utter revulsion of my own weakness consumed me. I could neither believe, nor understand what had just happened. I closed my eyes to shut it out. My only hope was that Himura would have the good sense to leave, and forget that this incident had ever happened.
No such luck…
As I opened my eyes, I found my self face to face with him. Crouched before me, unbelievably close, his purple eyes stared at me in curiosity.
He seemed to make a decision as he closed his eyes, and opened his mouth, but just a little, in waiting, his hot breath caressing my frigid skin.
A surge of anger shot through me. How dare he…? Despite what had happened, how dare he make such assumptions? To think that I would…
But before any of these half-thoughts could properly process I found that I had closed the distance. Lips against lips, my tongue reached feverishly into the moist chasm. I brushed against his tongue, wrapping myself into a warmth and closeness that I had never before experienced.
And both of us, seemed totally willing, to throw ourselves into weakness and surrender, for at least that night.
As I worked my way down his neck, amongst the sounds of Himura’s low groans filled with abandon, my own words echoed back into the intimate atmosphere…
“Battle is battle, and this…is different.”
Written: 3/14/05
Comments: I'm not much for fanfiction (outside of humor) but I could never find enough fanfiction for this pairing, and I always felt it deserved more. So, of course, I had to write one. I'm almost positive this only merits a PG-13 rating, it is a little...shall we say...suggestive, but nothing more. Anyway, if you like this pairing please spread the love, because I don't like stepping out of the humor genre
Battle
by Llybian Minamino
Months have passed since the fall of the Juppongatana, and the end of Shishio’s misplaced ambition. The air has grown chill, and the precursor to winter is at work subtly amongst my surroundings of dead leaves and stricken trees.
And Kenshin Himura is dropping by to take me up on my offer of tea.
Inside I smile, but just a little, as I slide the door of my new home shut to seal away the cold, dry air of the outside. I must admit that I enjoy this time of year most of all the seasons. The quiet time toward the end of autumn, as winter makes its approach.
The strength and control of this season…I used to think that the two of us were alike…but in the end the frost always breaks into spring. A true sign of its inborn weakness.
Himura… if there is anyone who could be said to be the embodiment of spring, it is he.
True, he did defeat me. His ways won out in the end, and I realize the title of the strongest is not mine. I have accepted this, but few things have changed. I am still winter, and I cannot change who I am, nor would I if given the choice.
But battle is battle, and this is different. There is nothing to win here, and I needn’t be pondering such things.
A light rap at my door awakens me from my musings, and even before I can arise to greet my guest the door slides open. A figure rushes in and abruptly closes the door.
Himura.
He anxiously looks in my direction and says with an apologetic smile, “Hello, I’m sorry for bursting in like this, but it’s gotten so cold outside lately.”
I nod, but say nothing, not everyone likes the cold after all.
I rise, and force myself to look at him directly. It seems as though nothing has changed. He stares back at my with those wide lavender eyes, a fair, kind face to behold. He looks nothing like that of a warrior, no cruel, cold eyes suspiciously darting around the room, not the stoic expression of a soldier hardened by war. Just looking at him, he could be easily underestimated.
But I know better.
His expression has shifted to become slightly anxious at my silent glance, which I only now realize has turned into a stare.
I turn my eyes downward, and say clearly, “My apologies, won’t you sit down?”
We both sat down, and at my motion he took up the cup of tea I had prepared for him.
After a long drink of the hot tea, for the weather outside must have indeed left him quite chilled, he once again looked up and said conversationally, “So how’ve you been, Aoshi?”
“Well enough.” I answered back, taking my own warm mug and sipping, “And you?”
“Things have been going nicely for me as well,” He said eagerly, hoping to keep a conversation going, “Yahiko’s swordsmanship is improving extraordinarily, though I suppose,” he said with a laugh, “Most students haven’t had to face the challenges he’s been presented with.”
Another sip, “So how have Misao and Sir Okina been?”
“I wouldn’t really know I’m afraid.” I replied, “Since I moved out, I haven’t seen much of either. Misao drops by every so often, with fare from the Aoiya, but she doesn’t stay long.”
“That’s kind of her.”
At my lack of response he continued, “Why did you move out of the Aoiya, anyway?” silence. “That is if you don’t mind my asking.”
“I needed more solitude, life at the Aoiya was filled with far too many…” a pause, searching for the correct word, “…interruptions.”
“Ah.” Himura murmured, and there didn’t seem to be much else to say. Silence once again reigned over the room, and in that silence I watched and thought.
Even after that final fight, a tension still remained strong between the two of us. Perhaps, my convictions that I had truly “given up” on the title of the strongest were just self delusion?
But I had been so sure…
I watched as Himura lifted his mug casually to his mouth, fingers so pale that they were nearly white gripped the mug, leeching its warmth.
His travel attire was the same as the last time I had seen him, a patched and frayed kimono, that was probably just about a size too big for him. It hung loosely on his shoulders…
…as though waiting to be pulled away.
What a strange thing to think! I thought to myself, as I drank more tea as a cover to break eye contact.
But even as this thought has broken through, I cannot seem to persuade it to leave. I avert my eyes toward the floor, unable to look at him.
But no…I have not yet become so weak that he can have this effect on me. I put my mug down, a little louder than I intended, and force myself to turn my eyes back toward his. Demure, lavender eyes…
He gazed back, questioningly, from my forced stare, to the empty mug I had clanged down. “Did you want some more tea?” Himura asked, rather confusedly, as he bent to reach for the kettle.
Hardly understanding my own odd behavior, I reach for his hand to stop his action. Feeling his velvet skin, but just for that second, as goose-bumps rose under my hand.
And somehow, my fingers traveled upwards to grip his wrist, unwilling to let go.
It all happened so quickly…I crawled, almost manically, over the table and pinned him to the ground, still holding his wrist up high above my head. I stared into the deep, swirling lilac eyes that gaped widely back at me in shock.
“Aoshi…?”
At the strange, pure note of his voice I seemed to awake, as though from a dream.
My own eyes widened, as I became aware of where I was. I backed off, and tore my eyes away from his, rushing over to a corner of the room and turning away from him.
The utter revulsion of my own weakness consumed me. I could neither believe, nor understand what had just happened. I closed my eyes to shut it out. My only hope was that Himura would have the good sense to leave, and forget that this incident had ever happened.
No such luck…
As I opened my eyes, I found my self face to face with him. Crouched before me, unbelievably close, his purple eyes stared at me in curiosity.
He seemed to make a decision as he closed his eyes, and opened his mouth, but just a little, in waiting, his hot breath caressing my frigid skin.
A surge of anger shot through me. How dare he…? Despite what had happened, how dare he make such assumptions? To think that I would…
But before any of these half-thoughts could properly process I found that I had closed the distance. Lips against lips, my tongue reached feverishly into the moist chasm. I brushed against his tongue, wrapping myself into a warmth and closeness that I had never before experienced.
And both of us, seemed totally willing, to throw ourselves into weakness and surrender, for at least that night.
As I worked my way down his neck, amongst the sounds of Himura’s low groans filled with abandon, my own words echoed back into the intimate atmosphere…
“Battle is battle, and this…is different.”