Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Honeysuckles and Moonlight Shreds ❯ Cherry Blossoms under a Weeping Sky ( Prologue )

Author's note: I can easily imagine what you people might be thinking. 'What? She's writing an other story? But she's not done with Within Soul!' And I know that and understand that some of you may be scared. When an author writes another story while writing the first one in is usually a sign that this one author is about to give it up. But I'm not! I'm not your usual authoress and I just love Within Soul too much to give it up. But I simply could not resist this. I needed to explore something less fantastic and get some 'normality' into my work. So I came up with this idea. Now, I know it may sound like 'Classroom' but it's got his own twist and is even more immoral than anything that had been explored in Rurouni Kenshin. I have all the chapters planed out but I can't remember just how many there will be, it goes along a dozen or so. So just sit back, relax and enjoy, tomorrow, I'll be finishing the other chapter of Within Soul and post it as soon as possible. Have fun while I go to sleep, I'm starting to see dots.. is it me or the room is spinning… oh… That's a bad thing…hehe

Warning: This story is meant to be a lemon, if you are underage or are not into such reading material, I humbly suggest you go and find something else to read. Also, I am a very twisted writer and just can't resist using uncommon theme such as drugs, abuse and such, while they may not be present for the moment, it is a possibility and if you are offended by such things, don't read any further.

Disclaimers: I own nothing but this annoying computer of mine and the bed I'm soon to get into to finally get some rest. So please, live jurisdiction matters as far away from me as possible, thank you.^-^

Honeysuckles and Moonlight Shreds

By Evil Karyta

Prologue

Cherry Blossoms under a Weeping Sky

Moonlight played with silvery shades upon the baby blue room's walls, casting shadows in a myriad of shapes and different tones of gray for the eye to observe in contemplative silence, paying much respect to the magnificence of night. Silky strands of midnight hair reflecting indigo spread on the bed linens like deep black ink contrasting with the pure white of the sheets. His hand, though trembling still, never seemed to tire of touching the velvet feel of the alabaster skin that glowed silvery under the bath of the moon. Her chest rose and fell, fallowing the deep rhythm of swallowed breathing, lost in a see of dream he only wished to peer in. Her hand resting barely above her head, arm in a graceful arc, thick black lashes resting lovingly upon the delicate flesh of her rosy cheeks which he longed to graze with his burning lips. Only fear of waking her kept the man from succumbing into temptation, as sweet and lovable as it was. His finger grazed the smooth skin of her tender face, tracing the beautiful lines of a sleeping figure.

Amethyst pools stared lovingly at the sight of perfection sleeping with childish abandon on his disheveled bed. Clothes rested discarded about the room, long forgotten in a hazed passion that had overthrown any thought of morality, shoving far back what a consciousness screamed to be wrong. It had just felt so right, too right to be so damn amiss as society saw it. To give into this sweet madness that had wrapped the both of them, leaving them breathless, completely overwhelmed. If sin was so powerfully wonderful, than he craved to be a perpetual sinner, his soul forever damned to the darkness of hell, he would still have this magical moment of rapture engraved within his mind to cherish. Yes, he would abide to the Devil's every wish only to remain by this lovely angel's side, even in torture. She had captured him and he was unwilling to leave, a willing pray, ready for the ultimate sacrifice of his soul for the sake of this sinful moment.

He sought no redemption, not a once of guilt or reminiscence, simply a feeling of fulfillment never archived before. She had brought out the best of him, saw what was beautiful in the mass of repulsive gloom that constituted his being. It occurred to him that never before had he felt such thing, this powerful feeling of rapture, lost within someone just as they were. Willing to give and not expecting anything in return, and surprised when she gift him back. He once thought he was in love, elusive feeling cast in shadow by some illusion of reality, had married that woman who despised him as much as she would a ant in her sugar bowl. He knew now, understood and saw as perfectly as if bathed in daylight what had united two beings that, apparently had and still wont, have anything in common but their mutual dread of loneliness that had came along when their world had shattered under their powerless hands. It had took him five years to realize how wrong he had been, mistaking something so beautiful with the horrid addiction that had been the base of a ailing marriage. This girl, latent by his side lost in the loveliness of rest and reverie, was light, she was innocence and compassion, everything that his wife was not, everything that stirred his spirit toward life, everything he had unconsciously craved for so many years ago, so long he still had no idea when the need had birthed.

Absently, his hand drifted up her arm, caressing the soft flesh in tender gesture, loving her with the tips of long fingers, watching intensely every subtle changes that would make her face lit up in the quiet obscurity of the bedroom. This goddess of perfection was still so young, so inexperienced in life. Never had she felt the pain of ageing, that overtaking feeling of lose when you see your all collapse, only felt joys and merriment along with the small everyday life sting of adolescence. If any guilt should be felt, it was to stain such beauty and youth with his soiled hands, to trap her within a world she still was not prepared to live. And yet, nothing seemed to drive him toward it and it seemed to him that this, as sinful as may be, was the most righteous thing he had ever done.

When he had watched her, swathed in the euphoric state that their infatuation has so exquisitely created, flushed and vibrant under him, responding to his every hushed murmured, stirring his every senses awake, touching places that he thought could never be touched, he new she was meant to be his, and he to be hers. She was never cold, always smiling, a whirlwind of fiery emotion that would lit her ocean blue eyes to such a perfect glitter of life that would make his existence worth the ache and suffering, so far from the livid coal of his wife. She expressed herself in so many different ways, shown him what life really was and brought light to a life that was merely nothing but black and white painted over what should had been so lively.

He smiled, genuinely for the first time in many years it seemed. The future no longer appeared to be that long, everlasting tunnel that he had feared so much. Happiness was his to take, and it laid within this lovely girl that slumbered peacefully, laying next to him in all her exquisite glory. Love was no longer that tearing feeling inside that left him empty and ensnared, but a blissful ecstasy that enveloped his soul, coxing him toward greater tomorrow warped in sun and smelling of newly hatched honeysuckles.

As long finger played over her skin, gliding up and down the curves of her feminine attributes as if entranced by the soft glow of it, he began to wonder how it started. This madness, as beautiful as it was, had to have a commencement, everything had. He had not fallen into sin so easily, he remembered. Fighting those wants and lusts, that overpowering need with all the might he could muster up, wishing it gone. It had tortured him, rendering him sleepless and agitated, angered him, maddened, and it suddenly appeared to him that his struggle had been so vain and just as evil as his deeds. Kissing the hand he had gently taken hold of as his mind wandered back to that fateful rainy April day, on the skirts of school campus, where he had first witness her beauty under the samurai's tree.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Early spring smelled of damp wood and blooming flowers, a fragrance that would turn all that was repulsive into exhilarating beauty. Nature was reuniting with life, buds about to burst, birds coming back and a new school year on the wake. There, under a cherry tree, watching the downpour of a rainy April day was a young woman. Her umbrella rested peacefully on the wet cement of the sidewalk, its usually pale gray coloring turning to darker as it absorbed more and more of the celestial cry. Sapphire jewels observed in quite passivity the large droplets hitting the small pink flowers rather mercilessly, a few petals giving away under the weigh of the water. They only lived for a few days, those lovely blossoms, cheering the sad world in the early spring days, so depressingly cast in shadows by heavy dark clouds that loomed accusingly over the citizen's heads. The samurai's symbol, what they longed to be, as indifferent as the cherry blossom as it flittered after merely seeing but glimpse of the world in its golden light and than give away into oblivion.

Bag in hands, loaded with books, sheets and papers of all sorts, heavy burden but she did not seem to care, she stood motionless under the rain. Nor did she cared that her uniform slowly got drenched, sticking to her skin, turning translucent as the material got soaked, sending shivers down her spine. All she could see was the rain, falling, playing with the wind, almost dancing, and creating a natural music that would linger within her mind, relaxing, hypnotizing. She exhaled a trembling breath, the clouds moving rapidly, blown away along with the wind's foreplay but they were just too many to simply disappear down the horizon traced by the modern buildings and temples roofs, contradiction in their reality, business, politics and religion never a good to be meld. Her long ebony strands, heavily drenched, stick to her face and she passed a delicate hand trying to push away the locks that covered her vision, willing to see everything, to be enwrapped in this lovely rage of nature. Her blue eyes caught the sight of her watch, showing her that time was drawing short, but she ignored it, wishing to stay and watch some more.

Behind her, students were rushing through the school gates, laughing, shouting, chatting like the carefree youth they were. She was left unnoticed, someone who just stood there, like a fool, letting the cold heaven cry soak through her. They were too eager to get into the building, away from the rain, to care for a lonely figure under a sakura tree. They were a parade of colorful umbrellas, those running students, and came many shapes and just as many designs. Someone sprint pass her, the rain-shielding object that was in her hand displayed an anime character, some sort of yellow rat surrounded in thunder bolts, quite the childish accessory. The girl by the tree's been a plain black one, conventional and quite useless as it lay on the ground next to her. If one looked closely, they could see that it had been broken, reversed by the harsh wind.

In the distance, a bell rang, loudly calling the children to there respective classrooms. But the soaked through black haired girl was deaf to it. Staring at the downpour, the wind blowing away delicate pink petals to add color to the dull gray rain along with her long black locks that appeared to be flying on their one mind and will. Footsteps resounded behind her and stopped. She felt eyes burn her back, an intense gaze that seemed to observe every little details from her wet long bare legs to her dripping hair that reached down to the base of her back. There was a vague voice, male, that spoke softly to her before the footsteps started to move forward again.

"You should get in," it said.

She shook her head, just a little bit longer, whispered her mind. To feel the caress of water, cool and refreshing on her skin, it was a good enough reason for her to be late. To watch every drops mend within the growing pool at her feet; see the undulation splinter her reflection on the brown and gray water that acted as a mirror would. She signed, dropping her schoolbag on the drenched ground, sliding the fastener to an open, its sound, metallic and unnatural, a perjure to the gentle song of nature, she shoved her pale hand in between the folds and retrieved a blue silken ribbon, last remain of a lost childhood. Passing her palm over her wet black strands, smoothing them, trying to tame what was wild, and reassembling them in a high ponytail that cascated down her shoulders before binding them with the indigo cloth. It felt heavy, darker than supposed to be, and most likely tangled, it would be a pain to care when the day would draw to a closure and she would be back to that breaking whole that had became her new home. She let her eyes, deep sapphire lost in self brooding, graze the rich brown of the cherry tree that stood proudly over her, exhaling a breath along with the ponder of her young mind.

"Silver drops of angel's grief, descending swiftly upon our shattered world, giving life to withering flowers, as I lay in silence. Who do you weep for, celestial beings, bond in perfection. Do you suffer from our misdeeds? Do you long for our liberation? In the end, we all sought salvation, but tangled in sins, we join in prayer, on hand and knees, hopeless and blinded by false conviction. Living a lie, not really a believer, simply looking for something higher, bigger. Right here, under the cherry trees..."

Slowly, the drenched schoolgirl, a note pad in hand, the paper undulated by water and inappropriate for her writing, pivoted on the heels of her worn out brown shoes, leaving behind the umbrella, tortured by the elements. Walking, she scrabbled on the paper her earlier musing and crossed the high gates of Kyoto High leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her and earning herself a few curious stares along with quiet snickers of her fellow students. She was quite a remarkable sight, if possible to say so. Dripping wet, uniform messed, soaked through, rippled, black and white back pack, just as drenched as the rest of her. Those old leather shoes squeaking with each taken steps, announcing quite unceremoniously her advent with a fare minute in advance, her socks stained by mud it seemed, red skirt forming a diminutive pool where she would stop, and her white shirt did not hid as much as it should, almost see-through and water saturated.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was the usual first day cacophony. Each and every young and eager students ranted about their vacation, loud display of superficial life that we all abide to. They were of all kind, from the wealthy family of doctors to the poor employee children, but all craved for the same freedom and dreamt to, one day, change the world. Such illusionary made them look so adorable even though most of them would never rise and most of those childhoods wishes presumably to disappear at the wake of adulthood. Their dream devastated to idolize money just as their parents did, corrupted by society, bound to the vicious circle of consummation, which circle they were already deeply confined into.

Silence suddenly overtook the classroom as a red haired entered, an indulgent smile playing on his handsome face, giving him a look if sympathy. He let his gaze wander about the room, recognizing most of the young faces, before settling behind his desk and deposing the load of sheets he had carried along with his black brief case. It was a repulsive item, worn and ready to surrender life and it remained a mystery to everyone as to what pushed him to still carried it around when in all probability it contained nearly nothing important. There was a few silent hushes from the student, most being from squealing hormonal girls, appreciative of the teacher's appearance. This made him smirk as he turned to the black board, a chalk in between his long fingers.

"Please, sit down. I will be your Writing teacher for this year. My name is Himura Kenshin. You can call me Himura-sensei or simply Himura, choose for your personal liking." he stated as he wrote his name in elegant curves. "This year, we'll be having an exchange student from Tokyo."

The teacher paused and stole a glance toward the door, spotted a face, and immediately motioned the unknown figure to make their entrance. The door was slowly opened, almost hesitantly and a very wet and disheveled girl crossed the frame, her shoes squeaking and her skirt dripping. Her gaze was downcast, shying away from the inquiring stare of the student who seemed more than interested over the new comer. Her hand held a yellow notepad that seemed badly damaged by the rain, the writing that could have been displayed over the drenched sheets slipping, deformed and almost unreadable. Kenshin had a short intake of surprise as she raised her gaze toward him. Such deep, fiery and powerful blue eyes. So alike that of the midnight velvet coverlet, that was the sky, but she seemed so pathetic, her small form soaked through and shivering.

"My umbrella broke..." she mumbled as a mean of apologies.

Her long ebony strands were restrained by an indigo ribbon, the hair around her delicate face had started to dry and had frizzled at some places. She looked beaten and shy, but the strength in her eyes told him otherwise. The girl's hand fidgeted with the pad she was holding, not knowing what to do, feeling as much as a laboratory rat would, violated by the intense stare of her soon to be classmates. She shifted the weigh of her backpack, the wet sound it made creating a few chuckles from the overly attentive assistance. She bit her lower lip in a desperate way to shove away this uncomfortable feeling of shyness that had taken hold of her usually confidant mind, chewing at her stomach, making her fell ill and disoriented. Then, as if life had return to her brain, she turned a resolute face toward the class, uneasiness only a shadowed memory of the moment and spoke with an unwavering voice, forgetting her particular state of soaked through.

"My name is Kamiya Kaoru. I come from Tokyo, it's a pleasure to meet you all," and then flashed them her best smile before bowing in respect.

"Welcome, Miss Kamiya. Please, take a seat," offered Kenshin.

Kaoru observed the furniture, perceived a desk at her left, the second one closest to the door, and made her way to it, her brown worn out shoes complaining with each steps. All eyes were turned her way, watching as the water slowly dried away leaving a puddle right under her seat, to witch she paid no attention and simply settled on her desk, retrieving her study tools from her black and yellow bag and displayed them on the wooden surface. Kenshin shook his head, trying to push away the sight of the girl and desperately forcing his gaze away from her see through white blouse. It seemed to be a losing battle though and he felt like slapping himself, confused and scared at his curious reaction. He than spoke, in a vain attempt to clear his rampant thinking and clear his consciousness.

"Um.. Miss Kamiya, if you don't mind. Perhaps you could pay a visit to the infirmary and recover dry clothes."

"It won't be necessary, I'll be just fine, M. Himura," she said not moving her attention from the paper on witch she was groping some unknown notes.

Murmured and chuckles rumbled the students at the attention of the strange exchanged girl. This school year would certainly be a very interesting one. Along with the common abnormalities that went along with every education establishment, this one very wet girl had became, in the space of a few minutes, the center of every gossips that would perturbed the student life for the coming weeks. Kenshin, still at his place by the board, coughed in a desperate attempt to regain his student's attention and began his usual first day basic explanation of his educational plan for the terminals. But it seemed that his eyes were constantly attracted to the girl sitting on the second seat of the first row, this class was going to be a very long and very frustrating one.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

To be continued………

a/n: I'm very close to collapsing from exhaustion so please, I worked hard on this one chapter and am imploring you to at least make the tiniest review you can think of. Everything is accepted, yes, even flames although I don't believe flaming is a good way to get yourself understood and is far from being constructive critics but, it's a review at least. ^-^ Boy, I really wanna just lay down and sleep some… head's getting heavier with each passing second… zzzzzzzzzz (too late)