![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
ashkaztra.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
smallfandomflshTitle: Hanabi.
Author: Shaded Mazoku
Fandom: Versus.
Pairing/Characters: Kenji/Kazuhito.
Rating/Category: R/slash (though slash is canon for this fandom.)
Word Count: 1182.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Every year, another paper lantern for those he has killed. An ritual to remember, and one to forget.
Notes/Warnings: Non-explicit sexual situations.
The air is filled with the sound of fireworks as the sky above him explodes into a stunning display of intricate shapes of reds, blues, whites and greens, competing with the crowd about being the noisiest thing around. The air is almost tangible with a heavy mix of all the different smells that fill his nose as he walks among the many market stalls that have been put up for the festival. Every snack they offer have a different smell, causing the odd mix of scents that he remembers from his childhood as being the smell of O-bon.
People moves around him, an endless sea of people, bobbing along in flowery yukata, masks and ornaments on their heads, fabric bags and bags of fish clutched in their hands. Their chatter competes with the sound of the fireworks for attention, trying to grab at him with invisible fingers, and to draw him away from what he is doing. In the sea of people, it is easy to slip away like a shadow, nobody noticing. He is very good at not being noticed.
A steady flow of paper lanterns floats past the spot he has chosen by the riverside. Every one lights up like a beacon, leading the soul of their intended target to the afterlife, and invokes memories of the soul orbs of legends. It is a good spot, secluded from the eyes of the festival-goers behind a cluster of bushes, where nobody will disturb.
One more lantern is added the others as they flow gently by. It isn't enough, but then, it never is. Every year is the same, a ritual more of tradition and upbringing than one of any misplaced sense of emotion, a single little lantern for so many souls where there should be countless. Once, he'd mourned for his victims, but that time was gone and now he can only offer a guiding light to the next world. He has no tears to offer.
As he watches, his lantern joins the others in their journey to the ocean, moving rapidly away from where he is seated on the river's bank. It is the last and only relief he can offer to them. He could offer no anger, sorrow or even regret as he had taken their lives. He could offer nothing as they'd buried them. A guiding light is all he can give them in penance.
Warm arms curls around him from behind, unexpected and expected at the same time. Kenji can move almost without a sound when he puts his mind to it, even in geta, and Kazuhito can recognize him by scent, custom-made shampoo and aftershave that only he wears. He leans into the embrace, resting his head against Kenji's shoulder, as much as their close heights will allow for.
Kenji makes him feel. The only one that makes him feel.
Even his yearly ritual of offering a lantern for the people he has killed during the previous year is not something he does out of anything resembling emotions, not even guilt. It's just something someone should do. Dictated by etiquette, not by feelings.
Kenji's hand slips under his dull green yukata, caressing his skin as though it is something precious under his fingers, not merely skin. Kazuhito doesn't understand what it is his lover sees in him, but he also knows that there must be something, because Kenji would have been bored of him by now if he did not hold something beyond mere fascination to the other man. With an expression that would have been a smile had it been anyone else, Kazuhito closes his eyes and allows his lover to do as he pleases.
For some reason, Kenji is a surprisingly thoughtful lover despite his rash personality. He takes his time to lazily explore Kazuhito's body as though it isn't already mapped out in his mind from previous encounters, teasing where he knows it will work the best. He takes some sort of insane pride in being able to make his usually so stoic lover lose control, Kazuhito is sure of it. He doesn't complain, though. He never complains much about anything, and Kenji's ministrations feel far too good not to enjoy.
Kazuhito comes undone under Kenji's hands. He has learned a long time ago that he can't fight the pleasures his lover offers for very long, and he doesn't want to. Usually, he disapproves of public displays of affection, but they are sheltered by a wall of Rhododendron taller than they are, nobody can see them, and this day is special. Under Kenji's agile fingers, Kazuhito relaxes, leans back and allows the caresses, allows himself to make sounds he barely ever makes.
Bringing their lips together, Kenji kisses Kazuhito, a deep and passionate kiss that makes Kazuhito feels like his spine has melted and poured away. Kenji smiles into the kiss, his fingers roaming the skin under Kazuhito's yukata, touching every inch of skin he can access. Running his tongue along the edge of Kazuhito's jaw, Kenji murmurs something, but his accent is too thick at that moment for Kazuhito to decipher in his current state, and he doesn't actually care at the moment.
Shifting, Kazuhito gets into a position more suited for returning the caresses Kenji offers, parting the dark grey fabric of his yukata to reveal the skin underneath it. He loves Kenji's skin. It's darker than his own, with an almost honey-like glow to it, the occasional scars from knife fights not marring, but adding to his attractiveness. Kazuhito left his glasses at home, and without them, he can't see very well up close, unable to properly focus at close range, but he knows where every one of those scars are, and he traces them lovingly as he presses closer to his lover, presses his face to Kenji's neck.
At some point, during the caresses, they remove each other's obi, their yukata falling open as they touch each other, eventually leaving them naked and twined together on top of Kazuhito's yukata, underneath Kenji's. Even approaching midnight, the air is warm enough that the cover is more for intimacy than for warmth, and they felt no real difference, their body heat feeling scorching at the moment.
Kazuhito watches the sky explode once again beyond Kenji's shoulders, another set of fireworks lighting up while Kazuhito reclines, his hair spread around him on the ground, eyes hazy with pleasure. His legs are around Kenji's waist, his hand grasping Kenji's neck, and he's lost to the world as his world explodes with more intensity than the fireworks in the sky, clutching at the skin and hair under his fingers as fireworks go off in his mind as well, biting his lips to keep from any sound.
Under the multi-coloured night sky, a ritual to celebrate living reaches its conclusion as the last remnants of the ritual to honour the dead float silently away. The lanterns bring the memories of those who has passed, drifting away into obscurity as the two men on the bank forget everything but each other.
Author: Shaded Mazoku
Fandom: Versus.
Pairing/Characters: Kenji/Kazuhito.
Rating/Category: R/slash (though slash is canon for this fandom.)
Word Count: 1182.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Every year, another paper lantern for those he has killed. An ritual to remember, and one to forget.
Notes/Warnings: Non-explicit sexual situations.
The air is filled with the sound of fireworks as the sky above him explodes into a stunning display of intricate shapes of reds, blues, whites and greens, competing with the crowd about being the noisiest thing around. The air is almost tangible with a heavy mix of all the different smells that fill his nose as he walks among the many market stalls that have been put up for the festival. Every snack they offer have a different smell, causing the odd mix of scents that he remembers from his childhood as being the smell of O-bon.
People moves around him, an endless sea of people, bobbing along in flowery yukata, masks and ornaments on their heads, fabric bags and bags of fish clutched in their hands. Their chatter competes with the sound of the fireworks for attention, trying to grab at him with invisible fingers, and to draw him away from what he is doing. In the sea of people, it is easy to slip away like a shadow, nobody noticing. He is very good at not being noticed.
A steady flow of paper lanterns floats past the spot he has chosen by the riverside. Every one lights up like a beacon, leading the soul of their intended target to the afterlife, and invokes memories of the soul orbs of legends. It is a good spot, secluded from the eyes of the festival-goers behind a cluster of bushes, where nobody will disturb.
One more lantern is added the others as they flow gently by. It isn't enough, but then, it never is. Every year is the same, a ritual more of tradition and upbringing than one of any misplaced sense of emotion, a single little lantern for so many souls where there should be countless. Once, he'd mourned for his victims, but that time was gone and now he can only offer a guiding light to the next world. He has no tears to offer.
As he watches, his lantern joins the others in their journey to the ocean, moving rapidly away from where he is seated on the river's bank. It is the last and only relief he can offer to them. He could offer no anger, sorrow or even regret as he had taken their lives. He could offer nothing as they'd buried them. A guiding light is all he can give them in penance.
Warm arms curls around him from behind, unexpected and expected at the same time. Kenji can move almost without a sound when he puts his mind to it, even in geta, and Kazuhito can recognize him by scent, custom-made shampoo and aftershave that only he wears. He leans into the embrace, resting his head against Kenji's shoulder, as much as their close heights will allow for.
Kenji makes him feel. The only one that makes him feel.
Even his yearly ritual of offering a lantern for the people he has killed during the previous year is not something he does out of anything resembling emotions, not even guilt. It's just something someone should do. Dictated by etiquette, not by feelings.
Kenji's hand slips under his dull green yukata, caressing his skin as though it is something precious under his fingers, not merely skin. Kazuhito doesn't understand what it is his lover sees in him, but he also knows that there must be something, because Kenji would have been bored of him by now if he did not hold something beyond mere fascination to the other man. With an expression that would have been a smile had it been anyone else, Kazuhito closes his eyes and allows his lover to do as he pleases.
For some reason, Kenji is a surprisingly thoughtful lover despite his rash personality. He takes his time to lazily explore Kazuhito's body as though it isn't already mapped out in his mind from previous encounters, teasing where he knows it will work the best. He takes some sort of insane pride in being able to make his usually so stoic lover lose control, Kazuhito is sure of it. He doesn't complain, though. He never complains much about anything, and Kenji's ministrations feel far too good not to enjoy.
Kazuhito comes undone under Kenji's hands. He has learned a long time ago that he can't fight the pleasures his lover offers for very long, and he doesn't want to. Usually, he disapproves of public displays of affection, but they are sheltered by a wall of Rhododendron taller than they are, nobody can see them, and this day is special. Under Kenji's agile fingers, Kazuhito relaxes, leans back and allows the caresses, allows himself to make sounds he barely ever makes.
Bringing their lips together, Kenji kisses Kazuhito, a deep and passionate kiss that makes Kazuhito feels like his spine has melted and poured away. Kenji smiles into the kiss, his fingers roaming the skin under Kazuhito's yukata, touching every inch of skin he can access. Running his tongue along the edge of Kazuhito's jaw, Kenji murmurs something, but his accent is too thick at that moment for Kazuhito to decipher in his current state, and he doesn't actually care at the moment.
Shifting, Kazuhito gets into a position more suited for returning the caresses Kenji offers, parting the dark grey fabric of his yukata to reveal the skin underneath it. He loves Kenji's skin. It's darker than his own, with an almost honey-like glow to it, the occasional scars from knife fights not marring, but adding to his attractiveness. Kazuhito left his glasses at home, and without them, he can't see very well up close, unable to properly focus at close range, but he knows where every one of those scars are, and he traces them lovingly as he presses closer to his lover, presses his face to Kenji's neck.
At some point, during the caresses, they remove each other's obi, their yukata falling open as they touch each other, eventually leaving them naked and twined together on top of Kazuhito's yukata, underneath Kenji's. Even approaching midnight, the air is warm enough that the cover is more for intimacy than for warmth, and they felt no real difference, their body heat feeling scorching at the moment.
Kazuhito watches the sky explode once again beyond Kenji's shoulders, another set of fireworks lighting up while Kazuhito reclines, his hair spread around him on the ground, eyes hazy with pleasure. His legs are around Kenji's waist, his hand grasping Kenji's neck, and he's lost to the world as his world explodes with more intensity than the fireworks in the sky, clutching at the skin and hair under his fingers as fireworks go off in his mind as well, biting his lips to keep from any sound.
Under the multi-coloured night sky, a ritual to celebrate living reaches its conclusion as the last remnants of the ritual to honour the dead float silently away. The lanterns bring the memories of those who has passed, drifting away into obscurity as the two men on the bank forget everything but each other.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}