Overture
Whenever she thought about Kyo or even Ritsu, a dull ache touched her leaden heart, made it drop soundlessly into her stomach and brought that down, too. Nausea followed quickly after the hefty drop and her toes would curl in tightly, painfully. Then, she would have to tell herself, 'Don't cry, Kagura. Don't you dare cry. Do not cry.' A three-step mantra that did little to soothe the burn of having her love kicked at again and again.
She was told that one day, sooner or later, someone would be deserving of her devotion; someone out in the vast world would cherish the battle-worn heart she carried so openly in her hands. Yet, they were empty, pitiful words that only served to make her ferociously bitter. The idea was hard to swallow, clogging her throat painfully every time someone tried to feed them to her.
In the faintness of the dull bedroom, Kagura peered down at the man next to her apathetically, lanky limbs folded at awkward angles around him and not half as attractive as either of her past loves. He possessed neither Kyo's lean, sinewy body nor Ritsu's refined, delicate features. He was not skilled in fighting or traditional arts. And for what he did not have in looks or superior skills, he had no way of making up in power, money, or name. So, if that was the case, Kagura wondered, why did she find herself going back to him over and over again?
The first time she stayed the night, it was after several experimental dates, nothing more than average outings to see a movie, visit the amusement park, have dinner somewhere relatively nice. And her date was equally so, nice and charming, nothing out of the ordinary. But, no sooner than she stepped foot into his apartment, he crumbled into a nervous mess, tripping over his feet and trying to set her at ease. It was her first time engaging in intimacy, yet she took control; he let her do so. And by the time morning rolled in, she was gone without having left a trace but her name and a dip on the bed.
Nevertheless, no more than a week later, she was back once more with an amiable smile, the memory of last week water under the bridge. In exchange for a distraction, she offered him her time and companionship, takeout in one hand and a rented movie in the other, which went studiously ignored after they were done eating, nothing but a mindless drone in the backdrop. His sofa, though used and mildly patchy, was enormously comfy she came to find. There was the added benefit of how it held up under the relentless weight of their lurching bodies.
"Ka…gura?" Startled, she glanced over her shoulder to see the figure beside her rise, blankets slipping off his torso. His arm reached over to turn on lamp at his side and the room flooded with a mellow dome of yellow lighting. She met a sudden flash of wariness – a feeling foreign to her usually unbothered style – and tugged her half of the sheets higher on her equally as pale, naked body. Still, she watched as he rubbed sleepiness out of eyes and anxiously focused on her. "What's the matter? Are you okay?"
It was hard to push aside sleep at — her taupe eyes flicked to the clock behind him — three in the morning and his gravelly voice was evidence of it. Still, he forced himself up from the throes of slumber because he was worried. About her.
Slowly, his hands came up and she sat still until they settled on her skin. They were invitingly balmy against the cool of her ashen cheeks and Kagura closed her eyes, relishing the heat. She could feel his dark eyes on her, careful in their observation, her chest rising and falling with gentle rhythm. He repeated her name again, the syllables soft and uneasy in their decrescendo, and she noted the smoothness seeping back into every inflection as he became more awake.
Kagura opened her eyes slowly to his concerned face leaning into her. He was squinting and she noticed, albeit belatedly, that he hadn't put his glasses on. His thumbs stroked her jaw as he quietly voiced his fears, the deep tenor now touched with a tremor. "Please say something, Kagura," he murmured, shifting his body in her direction. "You're scaring me."
Her heart stuttered, leaving a warmth in the wake of every other beat.
'Oh,' she thought in a burst of clarity. 'Oh, of course. Silly me.' She was immensely familiar with this feeling. The image of her past loves, once embedded in the back of her mind and constantly winking under the light of her attention, faded heavily and sunk to the recesses of wherever slow-blinking memories drifted. 'This is goodbye, then.'
It was happy; it was sad; it was a relief; it was like letting go of her Jinchuuriki all over again.
She placed her hands over his and squeezed them. "I'm fine," she said with a sheepish giggle.
Kagura watched with new curiosity as he held onto his apprehension for a second longer, searching her eyes, before letting it melt away, starting from the set of his shoulders down to what she could see of his hips. Colour returned to his face with the same intensity every inch of the world around her suddenly had, too. She was not one to normally observe; she preferred doing over watching. After all, there was no fun to be had without action. However, with this man, she couldn't help it. He was fascinating.
His forehead rested against hers with a relieved sigh. "Thank goodness."
There was that kick of warmth again, bubbling up at her chest and shooting through her veins. Her heart pulsed with emotions ready to burst. After so long, Kagura readily let them and flung herself towards him.
He scrambled to open his arms and pulled her into him with a breathless laugh, fingers dancing down the line of her spine as they fell back onto the bed with a soft whump, loose white linen fluttering up around them. Their bodies bounced against the plumate surface with a momentum that matched the carefree cadence of their mood. Her grip on him tightened as he whispered into her skull the three little words she always gave but never received. And while she was not ready to surrender them so easily again, she smiled into his neck.
"Thank you," she whispered. At the feel of lips against her shoulder — a silent, but heartfelt, response to her thick words — Kagura curled around him, nuzzling the skin under his ear and hands combing through his hair. It was a thing of envy, soft and curled at the ends, not to mention so easy to run her fingers through, yielding under touch like feathers. Completely unlike her long, coarse locks.
He gave a huff of laughter, hunching in on her, his own body curling to escape the provoking touch of her fingers tapping down his neck. "Oh, geez, that tickles."
"Does it now," she asked with an impish grin, delighting in the way his body shuddered against hers and the way he gasped her name, pleading mercy. In fact, Kagura enjoyed him begging more than she cared to admit. That innocent detail was folded and carefully tucked away into the back of her mind; she had every intention to return to it later. "It's all your fault, really. You brought this onto yourself." Her assault stopped and the room quieted to nothing but his breaths, her body swaying in time with every inhale and exhale. "Any regrets?"
He didn't answer her straight away and Kagura closed her eyes to do nothing but feel the effortless glide of his hands across her skin, taking his sweet time to run them up her body and past her arms. Their fingers laced together and still, she waited, heart quivering under the pressure of a patience she was not known for.
"None," he murmured back, voice smiling tenderly at her.
There was not an ounce of regret to be felt when she let her heart slip from her fingertips this time.
Author's Note: I've had this sitting among the WIPs of my hard drive for only God knows how long, but that's irrelevant lol. Actually, Furuba has been with me for some ten years now (wow, I sound so old wtf) and as I grew older, I began to develop soft spots for characters who I was usually indifferent, too. Kagura was one of them. To read more on my thought process, feel free to visit Notes & Updates on my bio.
Besides, that please feel free to leave me feedback and tell me what you thought of it! :)