InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Lament to Petals ❯ Flower ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Fuyumiko 
People, didn't they say petals may cause madness? [KagomexKikyo]
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Psychological / Hentai | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 12.23.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Completed
People, didn't they say petals may cause madness? [KagomexKikyo]
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Psychological / Hentai | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 12.23.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Completed
A/N: Trying to kill the writer’s block.
Disclaimer: InuYasha and its characters, storyline, etc- all belong to Rumiko Takahashi and its respectful owners. I have no claim or owner ship to it whatsoever.
Lament to Petals
By: Arashi, Fuyumiko
December 23, 2004
She was like a delicate flower.
That is what I always thought.
It would wash over me, just suddenly and never go away for what seemed like ages. I would spent ages just day dreaming of holding her small slender white hand in mine, kissing her softly on the lips and all over, and most of all taking her shiny ebony hair into my hands. It would cascade around my hands, and I would weave my fingers into it, braiding the silky strands to fit my taste.
Taste.
That was something I thought about too. I would sit by the fire, while the others were asleep, stroking Shippo’s hair, trying to lull myself to sleep. I would often wonder if she was sweet or bitter as her attitude would imply. Personally I wished to ask InuYasha, but I knew deep down I wanted to discover it on my own. And so it continued this small distress in my head and every night there would be the image of her in my mind again, a beautiful miko lock of dark hair fluttering in my imaginary wind. I would fall asleep usually then, my fantasies taking a different turn and I would be in her embrace at the best of peace.
Of course I kept these thoughts to myself, first off because it would only screw my life up more if I were to try to express them.
Often when it was InuYasha running off to see her, I wasn’t mad because he was leaving- it was because I couldn’t come too. It down right infuriated me. I would wait sitting in my solitude, while the others would whisper, hush, hush behind my back about how I was suppose to feel. And it didn’t help at all.
My emotions at their height would churn around, angry and jealous. And at that point I would decide whether or not to burst into tears and rip something; but usually my answer came in the word ‘oswari’, when a dashing figure in red came back.
It wasn’t easy suppressing myself, when all the time it was me who wanted to run, grab her and kiss her, keep her to myself. When I went home on random bouts of arguments with Inuyasha I would look in the mirror and touch my face. Desperate and trying; just to see if she was there with me. I would flex my fingers over my cheeks and lips searching for the grace and beauty she had only to not find it, become frustrated, and scribble some nonsense to my Algebra homework.
Even now, after I promised myself to deal with the feelings, become more ‘in control’ I can’t help it if it comes rushing back like the psycho avenging angel it was. Sometimes it happened in Sengoku Jidai and InuYasha would be sat mercilessly for a small treachery toward Shippo. Or I would be at home and the simplest thing, like Souta asking me to pass the soy sauce or banana sauce would set me off like a rocket.
Those actions would later make me feel terrible and regretful- more so then none I would try to make it up in some way; a ramen bowl, game, or candy. Then that would lead to some form of emotional outlet.
And the worst outlet I ever used was sex. I knew it was healthy and all that for someone my age, but I couldn’t help feeling extremely embarrassed afterward or even more frustrated. It wasn’t helping to the fact it happened more often then before. My little dreams would take a darker edge. In them I was some psycho sexual predator; that made me especially embarrassed. All of it considering I sounded somewhat like a perverted boy (Kami-sama help me if I ever turn into a Miroku), but really I couldn’t help it.
She was the loveliest being I ever saw. Despite all the layers of hatred, betrayal and tragedy- the sorrow and loss, I wanted to see through it all reach out for the person she was in the bright sun and have her as mine. I would sympathize with InuYasha greatly after jealous encounters, knowing the ache of not being able to truly hold the one you love. I would look up at the stars in wonder, suppressing a smile as he did too trying to mimic me, but only succeeding in having mild curiosity. What did he see when he saw the wonder, and tiny brightness that had inspired many to express their transcending emotions through words and notes?
My fingers would itch at this and while I was studying or doing homework, my fingers would let my heart take over and instead of describing how a star dies I would write sappy lines of how it reminded me of unrequited love.
For that was what it was.
Every heartbroken love song I heard could just about sum up a ten percent of how I felt, leaving me to mope and Sango (my darling friend) worried. It would consume me, eat me up, causing a hole in every thing I felt. So I would sit more expectantly in the rain, letting the moisture of the sky wash me over, bathing me in a holy ritual that was my own and every unrequited love’s.
She was there, unfurling and whispering against me. Leading me a ways to her only, having a private form of intimacy that everyone saw anyway. Indulgence would take over. In the rain I would run my hands through her hair, kiss her lips till it was swollen and red from my ferocity, till I tingled all over with love and lust I had made up of having with her. Mine was real, hers was not.
At the night. When shadows stretched over and embraced everything in a dark approach, with steady breathing around me as they slept. I would shift uncomfortably in my sleep searching for a relief only things by my own hand would do and never hers. So sweating and feeling slick and aching in myself, I would try to leave to find a near by cold water source or secluded spot.
At home it was easier.
The mirror intrigued and confused me, while searching for her I would never find her, but being caught off guard she would appear. And it was enough to get me riled up again. The holds of her clothing I would part, her laying softly beneath m eon my bed, making small pleasured noises as I touched her, felt her warmth, the smoothness of her skin, and silkiness of her hair. I wanted to see that certain something in her eyes.
Horrified, happy, confused. Many words came to mind as I think of her.
And now as I slip through her blue barrier, a place only I can trespass if I wanted to, I wish to tell her all things I feel.
It is there in my mind, the happy image of me braiding her lovely hair. Threading, weaving my fingers through it as to me of silky threads. There in that happy moment I long for- desire, I kiss her gently on the neck. On the lips.
And it is there she kisses back, smiling.
‘Kikyo.’
I would hold her stem in my hand, the petals a beautiful shade of purple, pollen a delectable scent.
-Finish-
Disclaimer: InuYasha and its characters, storyline, etc- all belong to Rumiko Takahashi and its respectful owners. I have no claim or owner ship to it whatsoever.
Lament to Petals
By: Arashi, Fuyumiko
December 23, 2004
She was like a delicate flower.
That is what I always thought.
It would wash over me, just suddenly and never go away for what seemed like ages. I would spent ages just day dreaming of holding her small slender white hand in mine, kissing her softly on the lips and all over, and most of all taking her shiny ebony hair into my hands. It would cascade around my hands, and I would weave my fingers into it, braiding the silky strands to fit my taste.
Taste.
That was something I thought about too. I would sit by the fire, while the others were asleep, stroking Shippo’s hair, trying to lull myself to sleep. I would often wonder if she was sweet or bitter as her attitude would imply. Personally I wished to ask InuYasha, but I knew deep down I wanted to discover it on my own. And so it continued this small distress in my head and every night there would be the image of her in my mind again, a beautiful miko lock of dark hair fluttering in my imaginary wind. I would fall asleep usually then, my fantasies taking a different turn and I would be in her embrace at the best of peace.
Of course I kept these thoughts to myself, first off because it would only screw my life up more if I were to try to express them.
Often when it was InuYasha running off to see her, I wasn’t mad because he was leaving- it was because I couldn’t come too. It down right infuriated me. I would wait sitting in my solitude, while the others would whisper, hush, hush behind my back about how I was suppose to feel. And it didn’t help at all.
My emotions at their height would churn around, angry and jealous. And at that point I would decide whether or not to burst into tears and rip something; but usually my answer came in the word ‘oswari’, when a dashing figure in red came back.
It wasn’t easy suppressing myself, when all the time it was me who wanted to run, grab her and kiss her, keep her to myself. When I went home on random bouts of arguments with Inuyasha I would look in the mirror and touch my face. Desperate and trying; just to see if she was there with me. I would flex my fingers over my cheeks and lips searching for the grace and beauty she had only to not find it, become frustrated, and scribble some nonsense to my Algebra homework.
Even now, after I promised myself to deal with the feelings, become more ‘in control’ I can’t help it if it comes rushing back like the psycho avenging angel it was. Sometimes it happened in Sengoku Jidai and InuYasha would be sat mercilessly for a small treachery toward Shippo. Or I would be at home and the simplest thing, like Souta asking me to pass the soy sauce or banana sauce would set me off like a rocket.
Those actions would later make me feel terrible and regretful- more so then none I would try to make it up in some way; a ramen bowl, game, or candy. Then that would lead to some form of emotional outlet.
And the worst outlet I ever used was sex. I knew it was healthy and all that for someone my age, but I couldn’t help feeling extremely embarrassed afterward or even more frustrated. It wasn’t helping to the fact it happened more often then before. My little dreams would take a darker edge. In them I was some psycho sexual predator; that made me especially embarrassed. All of it considering I sounded somewhat like a perverted boy (Kami-sama help me if I ever turn into a Miroku), but really I couldn’t help it.
She was the loveliest being I ever saw. Despite all the layers of hatred, betrayal and tragedy- the sorrow and loss, I wanted to see through it all reach out for the person she was in the bright sun and have her as mine. I would sympathize with InuYasha greatly after jealous encounters, knowing the ache of not being able to truly hold the one you love. I would look up at the stars in wonder, suppressing a smile as he did too trying to mimic me, but only succeeding in having mild curiosity. What did he see when he saw the wonder, and tiny brightness that had inspired many to express their transcending emotions through words and notes?
My fingers would itch at this and while I was studying or doing homework, my fingers would let my heart take over and instead of describing how a star dies I would write sappy lines of how it reminded me of unrequited love.
For that was what it was.
Every heartbroken love song I heard could just about sum up a ten percent of how I felt, leaving me to mope and Sango (my darling friend) worried. It would consume me, eat me up, causing a hole in every thing I felt. So I would sit more expectantly in the rain, letting the moisture of the sky wash me over, bathing me in a holy ritual that was my own and every unrequited love’s.
She was there, unfurling and whispering against me. Leading me a ways to her only, having a private form of intimacy that everyone saw anyway. Indulgence would take over. In the rain I would run my hands through her hair, kiss her lips till it was swollen and red from my ferocity, till I tingled all over with love and lust I had made up of having with her. Mine was real, hers was not.
At the night. When shadows stretched over and embraced everything in a dark approach, with steady breathing around me as they slept. I would shift uncomfortably in my sleep searching for a relief only things by my own hand would do and never hers. So sweating and feeling slick and aching in myself, I would try to leave to find a near by cold water source or secluded spot.
At home it was easier.
The mirror intrigued and confused me, while searching for her I would never find her, but being caught off guard she would appear. And it was enough to get me riled up again. The holds of her clothing I would part, her laying softly beneath m eon my bed, making small pleasured noises as I touched her, felt her warmth, the smoothness of her skin, and silkiness of her hair. I wanted to see that certain something in her eyes.
Horrified, happy, confused. Many words came to mind as I think of her.
And now as I slip through her blue barrier, a place only I can trespass if I wanted to, I wish to tell her all things I feel.
It is there in my mind, the happy image of me braiding her lovely hair. Threading, weaving my fingers through it as to me of silky threads. There in that happy moment I long for- desire, I kiss her gently on the neck. On the lips.
And it is there she kisses back, smiling.
‘Kikyo.’
I would hold her stem in my hand, the petals a beautiful shade of purple, pollen a delectable scent.
-Finish-