Slam Dunk Fan Fiction ❯ February Cliché ❯ Chapter 1

FEBRUARY CLICHÉ

Hisashi Mitsui reflectively was sure that February clichés like this, as negatively derivative as it seemed, astounds even the most oblivious. [mitko]

 

He thinks he knows. He doesn't think he knows. He doesn't think he thinks he knows. He doesn't think he thinks. As irrational as it was, Hisashi Mitsui could not decipher the sentiments that have been endlessly waltzing, much more if it were from the heart, or from the mind. It was beautiful though - semantically; beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror which both of them still are able to endure.

 

Like any tangible aspect in his decisive mentality, overworked auxiliaries of luminosity have started burning like fire; there, on Danzakura pavements where cherry petals continuously disband like sentimental confetti's, Hisashi Mitsui reflectively was sure that February clichés like this, as negatively derivative as it seemed, astounds even the most oblivious. It was getting dark but his transcendence was beyond his concept of the opposites; human contradictions don't apply to humans after all - his idyllic anxiety could be gibberish to some but he never entertained such preposterous ethic. Moonbeams are starting to stretch their gaze, personified entities killed by their curiosity to behold an exposition of sexual open-mindedness. The moon was platinum, crescent like broken smiles; February fourteen has dyed the world red, he noticed - and Hisashi could only wonder in its etymology. Keepsakes that go in pairs sprouted like fairies of mushrooms, fluttering from one merchant to another. It was just like Christmas - on Tsurugaoka-hachiman-gu shrine - when light shone heavy on them.

 

Hisashi remembered his injured knee; it was nursed back from an accident, but it already was smudged with consequential negativity - which took two years to be exact - and since then he thought he was living both in past and present; he thought he was only seeing patches of reality.

 

Out of the blue, however, tribulations were solved and questions were answered soon as Kiminobu Kogure came walking towards him like it wasn't walking at all. Personal effects are wrapped not only in decorated papers but also with a pure feeling understood both of reason and heart. Hisashi was butter then, melting amidst the moonbeams even though coldness was biting. “Sorry I'm late `Sashi-kun,” and they exchanged gifts like barter then.

 

“T'was okay.” Hisashi though didn't dare utter those words; such encumbered words saddle his psyche down not because of disinterest - his intentions are the most sincere - but because of his concern of his sexual ego's nutrition.

 

Both sat down on the bench and just savored each other's company. Fireworks never complemented this night but it was all good - cherry blossoms encircled the Danzakura asphalts going to Tsurugaoka-hachiman-gu shrine where people leave solitude at their axis with companionship, intimate or not; giggles are celestial on their ears, almost tempting them. And so they strolled; everything was public but the two has come across confidentiality nonetheless. Somehow, it all seemed clear now for Hisashi. His delusion from reality have lurched his rationalizations, that moments with Kiminobu are the ones that testified genuine experiences. Blue-black eyes could not answer back then at the strike of chocolate ones; dainty embodiments of their bodies glowed as few birds perch finally at the entrance of the shrine.

 

For the first time from their societal phobia, thriving finally like Rilke, Hisashi held Kiminobu's hand - zeal in its exploit - and entered the shrine with emotional promises to be fulfilled.

 

“Happy Valentines, Kimi-kun,”

 

a/n: Danzakura St. is a lane that leads to the shrine which is actually on Kamakura, Kanagawa. This has some references on my “Light Shines Heavy” fic. Flames/reviews appreciated. The first paragraph borrowed cowboy bebop and maria rilke.