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Here is where I will try my hand at writing fan fictions. I've got a ton of ideas floating in my head, both for KS and otherwise, but I find it rather annoying that the best time for my writing is between midnight and whenever I piss myself off for not being asleep yet. Now, I had always wondered why most authors add self-deprecating comments about their work in the notes, and I vowed never to do that. Well, I lied. This certainly isn't on par with most of the stories I've read and enjoyed on here. Depending on how all this crap is taken, they may end up on fan-fiction.net, where those other ideas in my head will end up... hopefully before I die of old age.

*EDIT: changed the Thread title by suggestion. (Me and my proper grammer... )*

This particular Hisao/Hanako story came to me in one of my lucid dreams, where I wanted to describe some sort of fluffy actions in bed between the two of them; except I was in Hisao's place in the dream. Where the rest of the story came from, I sort of made it up as I went along, because it didn't feel right writing only wabout the juicy stuff. (Then this would've only been a page long.) I seemed to have had some trouble keeping the tense consistent, although it should be coherent as is. In regards to not writing about sex, I may have balls, but I'm not ready to use them. (Not yet anyway )
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WARM EMBRACE


“Ugh… I can’t get to sleep. Or at least it doesn’t feel like it.”

I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. The room is pitch black, aside from the cone of moonlight passing over my bed.

“I remember when that light was on the door; now it’s right next to my bed.” My mind says, as one’s usually does when they can’t sleep. I check the clock on my desk; the display tells me it’s almost one in the morning.

I had realized that summer at Yamaku Academy was… difficult. The school had a summer uniform, just like normal schools. It was basically the winter uniform, but the short-sleeved version for both boys and girls. The boys had the option of wearing shorts, which seemed odd to me, as most schools have the boys wear long pants the entire year. I realized the need for shorts when the first heat wave rolled in. I quickly grew accustomed to seeing the disabilities of some fellow students that weren’t as obvious as others in winter. I was also rather surprised when I saw Muto arrive for homeroom in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, but not surprised when he continued to drone on in that uninterested voice of his as if nothing was amiss. If Shizune suddenly broke out in song, I doubt he’d even bat an eyelash.

No, school life was more-or-less the same; it’s just that the heat became my mortal enemy. Maybe it was due to the location of the school; maybe it was some sort of tweak my body went through after this heart decided to crap out on me; or maybe some anonymous sadist out there gets their rocks off by watching me suffer. The humidity was so bad, Shizune and Misha “acquired” several fans and placed them in the student council room in such a way that we had our own vortex of cool in there. It was a nice slice of paradise, so I didn’t scold them on that abuse of power.

It was so bad, that Misha and Lily lost their curls and waves, respectively. Not that it was a bad sight to see, mind you.

It was so bad, that Rin was beginning to act normal.

It was so bad…

How bad was it, Hisao?

“Don’t you start with that,” I say to that voice in my head.

It got so bad, that Emi reduced my (now) usual morning mile jog to a two-lap walk; as thanks for being so considerate, I treated her to a fruit smoothie, and she didn’t even have to flash those puppy-eyes at me to get it. However, that toothless, dying hag known to all but Kenji, and now myself, as “Mother Nature,” refused to let up, even at night.

“I opened the window a sliver to get some breeze in here, but I think it’s adding to the humidity. I’ve even stripped down to my boxers! This place is able to suit the needs of any disability, so why can’t they spring for an air conditioner in all these rooms!” My mind spoke, continuing its insomnia-driven tangent.

One part of my brain rationalized that perhaps it wasn’t feasible to supply A/Cs to all the dorm rooms, what with labor, electrical bills, noise pollution, possible interference with other student’s needs, and so on. Another part of my brain started to inadvertently think of all things hot: the sun, burning your feet on hot beach sand, Shizune and Lily making out, and so on. When yet another part of my heat-stroked brain realized that that last thought would only occur when Hell froze over, I felt some relief, however minor.

This sort of thing went on for about an hour, and after my brain started wailing on the Roman Senate for adding July to the calendar, I came to the conclusion that my mind was beginning to go Rin on me. I decide to go to the bathroom to relieve myself (both literally and figuratively), and to also get rid of the sweat that was beginning to soak me. I flipped the sheets over to the right and head straight towards the door.

As I step outside, I’m struck by the most horrid smell I’ve experienced in my life thus far.

“My God, I really hope Kenji hasn’t died in there; he still owes me for that pizza.”

I hastily, but silently, make my way past the heat-enhanced, rum-soaked (climate appropriate beverage of choice) room of Kenji. I swear I could see the vapor seeping out through the cracks in his door. After reaching the facilities, I make good on what I decided earlier, and make a bee-line for my room. I was mere nanoseconds away from slamming the door shut to avoid Kenji’s potential biohazard when I remembered I wasn’t alone.

Shutting the door, enshrouded by darkness and embraced by oppressive humidity, my eyes are basically blind from adjusting to the outside light, but I notice that moonlight was now illuminating the most important and precious person in my entire world.

Lying before me, fast asleep, is my girlfriend of two months, Hanako Ikezawa. I watch in content silence for a moment at how peaceful she looks. The covers had apparently slid off of her after I inadvertently flipped them onto her. Hanako was clad in a light, white tank-top and panties. She was on her left side, rolled into a slight fetal position with her back against the wall, arms out in front of her at a V-angle, her hands bordering on the outline I made where I had been lying. Her bust-length purple hair was in slight disarray, although some strands were draped across her face, with a few long strands moving slightly with each breath she took while she dreamed.

As I head back towards the bed, I notice that Hanako has a fine sheen of sweat forming on her, except on her arm, thigh, spots on her back; all where the burns had been the worst. I gently get back into bed and pull the covers back up to my chest. After settling, I roll on my right and continue to stare at Hanako. I slowly bring my free hand toward her face, and gently roll back the wayward strands of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers graze her lips and skin. Resting my head on my pillow, continuing to stare at me girlfriend, my mind begins to think back…

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Two Months Earlier…

Beyond that violet veil was the most beautiful girl I had ever met, and I mean that in the most sincere possible manner. The way she used to hide her self, in general, made most think she had been horribly, horribly burned on the right side of her body: that she didn’t have an eye or ear under all that hair, that she had to wear a false breast because her real one had basically burned off, and other such rumors. I never really thought much on that subject, but as I spent more and more time with Hanako, and as she began to open up more towards me, I realized that those were the ignorant musings of biased and vain fools. Hanako had been burned as a child, but the worst of it was from her shoulder blade to her hand, spotted along that side of her back, and down just above her knee.

And yes, that does include a “sizeable” chunk of her rather voluptuous posterior, although only on that right side. I found that out after a series of “unfortunate” events that entailed my flailing hands, a drunken Kenji, a changing Hanako, pantyhose that manages to catch on panties, a tinfoil hat, and a rubber chicken. Don’t ask. I tried to apologize to her for the better part of that afternoon, and when I found her, I explained what had happened, how Kenji had managed to “pass out inside a garbage can,” and that I would make it up to her by any means necessary. She couldn’t think of anything, so I offered to take her out to dinner to a place of her choice, and she accepted.

Anyway… It happened to be that same night I found what she was really hiding under that purple shroud. We were walking back to the dorms when I had another heart-related “incident.” It wasn’t a real heart attack; I guess the stress from earlier and the prodigious hike back to the school caught up with me. Maybe the food I ate didn’t agree with me. Either way, I keeled over. The last thing I heard was I soft voice calling out my name.

When I came to, my eyes refused to open, at least for the time being. From what I could guess, I was lying on a bench in the courtyard. All I could hear was the faint rustle of leaves blowing on tree branches, my heart had long since calmed and returned to its steady beat. What I could feel, however, was not the hard surface of the bench, but something soft and warm. When I finally opened my eyes, I was staring right up at Hanako. She asked me how I was doing now, I told her better, and gave her that same excuse that I used to give everyone when my heart decided to act up. By some turn of fate, a rather strong wind went through the courtyard. Hanako was caught off guard, and her mask was finally removed.

What I saw were rather normal burns, if burns could be called that. They were not to the extent as her other ones, but she had two eyes, two ears, and soft features that matched her visible side; in fact, the scars never even reached her ear or hairline. It was at that moment that I decided to tempt fate. She had noticed me staring at her face and attempted to hide it again, but my hand immediately went up to her uncovered face and began to gently caress it. Those scars did not have the same type of roughness to them like on her hand, but it felt like they were soft and weren’t really there. Also, they weren’t as deeply colored like the other scars, almost as if the deep color was an illusion caused by the reflection of her dark hair. My fingers grazed her lips, slid around the side of her face, through part of her hair, and around her ear; all the while gazing up from her lap. I was entranced by what I saw, but was brought back to reality when I felt something warm and wet stream down her check.

After I sat back up, Hanako’s tears began to flow freely. I immediately cursed my very existence for violating such a personal space for her, and attempted, albeit hesitantly, to comfort her. When I embraced her, she curled into my chest and let the floodgates open. After a few minutes of rubbing her back (being mindful to as to where I rubbed) and allowing her to let it all out, she calmed down. I apologized, or at least attempted to, when Hanako stopped me. She explained through her sniffles:

“Y-you probably n-noticed that my f-face isn’t as bad as the r-rest of my body.”

I gave a slight nod, being careful with her choice of words.

“T-there’s a reason f-for that.”

I waited for her to compose herself and continue.

“Y-you know that the f-fire happened when I was a child, and that my d-dad died because of it.”

Another nod. Lily had once mentioned that Hanako had lived with her mother before coming to Yamaku, although only in passing; Lily respected Hanako’s wishes in regards to her past. Hanako’s soft voice begins to waver.

“W-well… h-he d-died because of-f m-me…”

More tears. More comforting holding while I try to process what Hanako just said. She continued, her head still in my chest:

“I t-think I was sleeping, so I don’t r-really remember m-much of how it started, j-just the horrible h-heat and w-whoosh of air…” Hanako slowly described what she remembered of that horrible event.

“T-then I remember seeing most of the rooms r-roaring with fire, and then r-running to D-Daddy. That’s w-when it h-happened. T-The doctors explained that a fuel l-line in the k-kitchen one room over r-ruptured and s-sprayed liquid f-fire on both of us.”

My mind visualizes each moment as Hanako describes it.

“I was knocked t-to the floor by the f-force of the explosion, and m-most of my right s-side was engulfed. I r-remember screaming f-from the pain as the f-flames began to c-consume my b-body. T-that was when I s-saw Daddy.”

Hanako pauses as she recalls that terrible image.

“I-I didn’t know until I g-got to the h-hospital, b-but Daddy had p-protected me from m-most of the blast. B-because of that, he was m-much worse off than m-myself. H-his entire back was engulfed in f-flames. He was l-limping a bit b-because a chunk of m-metal had pierced h-his leg and shoulder. The f-flames had instantly scorched his h-hair off and m-melted his ears. I c-could see him g-grimacing f-from the pain, but h-he didn’t scream or c-cry. He was m-making his way t-towards me. O-once he r-reached me, he fell to the f-floor and tried to put my f-fire out, before h-his own. M-most of my flames had s-stopped because my c-clothes had b-burned off, or had grafted t-to my skin. He was t-try to put out the f-flames on my f-face. I was p-pleading with h-him to make it s-stop.”

“When I opened m-my eyes, I could only look out of one of them; the house was still b-burning and the pain on my f-face had stopped, but was c-covered with a different w-warmth. Daddy had c-crawled next to me and covered my burned face with his g-good hand to keep the f-fire from hurting it more, like this.”

Still buried in my chest, Hanako indicated by covering her face like she usually did, just more slowly. She continued:

“I saw that his fire had b-burned out; m-most of his body was a horrible c-combination of pitch-b-black, brown, and w-white skin, some blackened b-bones, b-blood caked on to his skin, and an indescribable s-smell… but he was smiling. I was f-frozen in place by that smile. K-Keeping his h-hand on my f-face, he l-lowered his head to the floor, and s-shut his eyes. I t-think my cries for D-Daddy h-hurt more than the b-burns ever did.”

Warm silent tears flowed as she kept talking.

“The n-next thing I r-remember was w-waking in the h-hospital r-room. D-Doctors where all around me, and M-Mommy was at my side, g-gripping my left h-hand. She h-had been cut off from the two of us w-when the ceiling in the front r-room collapsed. I a-asked for Daddy, b-but I already knew…”

Hanako fell silent. The clock in the courtyard indicated it was eleven at night, and I didn’t really care. My heart was hurting, but not in that typical “dying” type of way. It hurt more for Hanako; having to endure the pain of fire, and then the pain of watching her father die. I felt that any lesser girl would have broken; Hanako got off lucky with her social phobia. She spoke, half-yelling:

“That is why I don’t w-want people to l-look at my f-face! It always reminds m-me that Daddy died because of m-me! I should have died instead of him!”

It was with that statement that something in my heart snapped. I then did something that could have ended the friendship I had with Hanako up to that point. With swift and tender forcefulness, I place both hands at the base of Hanako’s face, forced her uncovered face up toward mine, and kiss her. I taste salt from the tears she’s been shedding most of the night. When I broke the kiss off, with her less than ten inches away from my face, I spoke, in slightly hard tone:

“Don’t you ever think that again! If your father was still alive today, I would be down on my knees thanking him for keeping you in this world! I like being with you, Hanako, and I certainly do not think you killed him. He chose to save and protect you, because he loved you! If I were in that situation I would have done the same thing, because I love you…”

Hanako’s face is a mixture of open-mouthed stunned silence, red teary eyes, and a blush so bright I can feel the warmth under my hands. After she closes her mouth, I began to gently rub the scarred side of Hanako’s face, partly out of hope that it would soothe her, and partly in the hope that it hammers the fact into her that I don’t have the same negative thoughts she has about her face. After a moment, she places her hand over mine:

“Do you m-mean it? Do you… l-love me? Even with a f-face like…”

I cut her off.

“I mean every word I have said, both about you, and loving you.”

“…”

Hanako tries to say something, but words fail to leave her lips. After a moment, I interject:

“You don’t have to give me an answer tonight. After all that happened today, it may be best if we give it some time.”

I would prefer an answer now, but this is Hanako. It would be best to take this sort of thing slow, seeing as how I did risk a lot pulling that stunt a few moments ago. I rise, and offer her my hand. She’s spaced-out, but eventually notices and accepts; however she keeps her eyes downcast. I slowly walk with her towards the girl’s dorms in silence, with nothing but the gentle breeze and rustling trees as company.

Before we reach the entrance, Hanako stops a few steps behind me. I turn to her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I h-have something else to t-tell you, Hiaso.”

She keeps her head down, her hair keeping her eyes from me.

“What is it?”

She swiftly closes the distance between us and places her lips against mine. With Hanako leading, her kiss feels much more tender and sweeter than the one I forced on her earlier. She steps back, and I see that her depressed face has been replaced with a bright blush, and a small, bur beautiful, smile.

“H-How does that count for an answer?”

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I bring myself back to reality. As I continue to gaze at the sleeping face of my girlfriend, I realize how much her stamina has improved… social stamina. SOCIAL. It took some time, but she gradually began to show her face around the school; she even began wearing her hair back with a clip or a ponytail. She has gotten to the point where she interacts with the others in our class, Shizune included, but she still has some trouble with larger crowds. She just may not like big crowds of people. She has also lost the stutter, although there are moments…

Apparently, I had begun to space out, because when I bring my focus back to Hanako, I find her lavender eyes staring right back at me.

“Why were you looking at me like that, Hisao?”

Hmm… Target acquired.

“I was wondering how a beautiful and wonderful girl like you wound up with a regular guy like me.”

“Oh… u-um… I don’t know w-what to say…”

Direct hit.

“I was also thinking back to the night you told me about your father. I still stand by every word I said.” I may be starting to lay it on a little thick, but I truly mean what I said.

“T-thank you, Hisao. Uhh…”

Hanako bites her lip.

“What is it?”

“Would you m-mind holding me tonight? I sleep better w-when I’m in your arms.”

Damn. Returned fire.

“S-Sure, Hanako.”

Hanako giggles a bit, rolls onto her right side, now facing the wall, and scoots into my uncovered chest. Having accepted her scars, I decided to “grow up,” and accept my own. In reality, I should have accepted it long ago; it’s not that bad, and I could have used it as an excuse to show my well-sculpted muscles to the ladies… yeah, right.

I prop my head up with my right hand, and use my left hand to slowly and lightly stroke Hanako’s exposed skin. I start by slowly dragging my fingers along her arm, letting the nails tickle her slightly as they pass over her skin, forming lines through her sweat. My hand makes its way toward her shoulder, tracing where her shoulder blade is visible, and slowly go down her side.

“Mmm…”

That’s the only thing Hanako says as she begins to drift back to sleep. She does twitch a bit as my caressing tickles her at he base of her ribs. I continue down, tracing every curve, from the indent of her svelte waist, rising with the swell of her shapely hip, and down her perfectly toned leg. I retrace my path along Hanako, and take a detour over her exposed, smooth stomach, pass over her navel, which causes Hanako to give off a slight moan, and I pull her in closer, letting my arm rest over her stomach.

As I place my right arm under Hanako, I brush along part of the scars on her lower back and stomach, and she seems to elicit a huskier moan than her previous one. I should keep that in mind the next time we decide to have a… “late-night chess match.” With my left arm over her waist, I have my right arm come up toward her neck and left shoulder. It ends up lodged between her breasts; the underside of her right, and slightly scarred, breast rubs against the smooth part of my arm, and her left breast pins my wrist in her cleavage. I feel all the curves present in her prodigious chest, as her shirt is moist with sweat; Hanako appears to be a bit aroused, as her nipples are visibly erect, even under her shirt.

With Hanako firmly inside my space, and sound asleep, my senses are bombarded as I drift towards my long-awaited slumber. I smell the faint hint of oranges, which is coming from Hanako’s hair directly under my nose. She seems to be slyer than she lets on, because one would have expected her to use lavender shampoo. I feel her moist curves, her smooth skin. I can feel her heartbeat, and mine begins to sync with hers; it has a calming effect. I can hear her soft breathing as she sleeps in my arms. I can taste her as I kiss her along her neck and shoulder. And finally, I see how much of a contradiction Hanako is: as she lays her in my arms, she seems so weak and vulnerable, but she is so much stronger than me; she’s strong for accepting her scarred body, strong for overcoming her fears and disability, and strong in her willingness to accept my love. She has shown me truths about myself that I chose to ignore; I owe her much for that, and I love her infinitely more for that.

As sleep finally comes to claim me, the horrible, wicked humidity vanishes, and I am surrounded by a much calmer and gentler warmth. This is our love, and I certainly don’t mind this warm embrace.
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And there you have it. Most feedback will be welcome. The rest will be ignored. You know the kind.

Well done PharaohSauron... my favourite part how Hanako opened up to Hisao, I wouldn't be surprised if something similar to this was in the final KS!

Dude, THAT's how you write? You really ought to writefag more often! You've got a knack for describing a scene, plus your version of Hisao's internal monologue had me lol'ing on several occasions.

Shizune and Lily making out, and so on.

Ara Ara... >:3

"Rin" is now an adjective to me, when referring to one's mental state.

kosherbacon wrote:Dude, THAT's how you write? You really ought to writefag more often! You've got a knack for describing a scene, plus your version of Hisao's internal monologue had me lol'ing on several occasions.

I do have a very detailed imagination, although some of that may be a product of me staying up until some ungodly hour. However, it does feel refreshing to write something that isn't some "rule bound" school-related piece of crap that I had to shell out for about 12 years.

And I'm rather quiet in real life; it takes a while for me to warm up to others. As such, I'm always observing and thinking about something, no matter how "off" it may be.

kosherbacon wrote:"Rin" is now an adjective to me, when referring to one's mental state.

"Buddy, you gotta talk me down! I'm Rinin' here!"

This is really good, man! It's very well-written; the prose is very neat and clean, the dialogue is just great, and overall, it's very funny and cute. Please continue writing!

(My one nitpick is that perhaps Hanako's stutter could have been toned down a little, but that's a minor issue and it may just be me besides.)

I just have a little nitpick here...

“When I opened m-my eyes, I could only look out of one of them..."

I'm pretty sure both of Hanako's eyes are fully functioning. I think one of the devs had a blog post or a Shimmie post about it.

Could be a superficial burns to the eyelid. Her face may have been BBQd enough that she had trouble opening her right eye.

Mellowcorks wrote:(My one nitpick is that perhaps Hanako's stutter could have been toned down a little, but that's a minor issue and it may just be me besides.)

I was thinking that, because it was getting annoying deciding which word sounded right for her stutter. Let's just say she was really upset.

Sgt_Frog wrote:I just have a little nitpick here...

“When I opened m-my eyes, I could only look out of one of them..."

I'm pretty sure both of Hanako's eyes are fully functioning. I think one of the devs had a blog post or a Shimmie post about it.

The rest of Hanako's statement implies she can't see because her father is covering that eye; I just lumped it in with "face".

Addendum: I demand that all future stories be referred to as "Phables". It's funnier that way.

PharaohSauron wrote:

Sgt_Frog wrote:I just have a little nitpick here...

“When I opened m-my eyes, I could only look out of one of them..."

I'm pretty sure both of Hanako's eyes are fully functioning. I think one of the devs had a blog post or a Shimmie post about it.

The rest of Hanako's statement implies she can't see because her father is covering that eye; I just lumped it in with "face".

Oh, okay then. Never mind then.

I just decided to drop by and say that I'm working on another story. It's just that for some insane reason, I've decided to have it about Hisao and Rin.
As such, I'm trying to get into "The Rin Zone," and so far, it hurts.

You are about to enter another dimension. A dimension of strange visions, where arms dare not tread. A journey into a wondrous land of problems that may or may not be in your pants. You are now entering...The Rin Zone.

Do do do do do do do do do do do do...

Yeah, sorry. My mind goes weird places sometimes.

Okay, I have returned from "The Rin Zone," but I haven't come back unscathed. This story wound up completely Rin-like, in that even I had no idea where I was going with it until I got there. In all seriousness, this story started out as something else, but when I realized it would only work if I basically had to describe an entire movie or piece of art, I said, "screw it." Try and guess where those parts are!

Also, if you know where I got the title from, I will declare you ruler over a section of the interwebs.

So, this turned into a snark and innuendo-filled romp between boyfriend and girlfriend that I wanted to end after I thought of something much more interesting to write about. Here's a hint: my alter-ego, fate, and "cosplay of a sort" are involved...
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Deep 12

“I have to be honest… I just don’t get it.”

I am studying a piece of canvas, in the classic “hand-holding-chin” pose. Of course, there is something on it; staring at a blank piece of canvas is something only “deep” artists would do. Possibly insane people, as well.

The reason I can’t say what is on the canvas is because I have no idea what it’s supposed to be. Sure, I have been coming to the art room rather frequently, and no, not just for the possibility of free lunches. I’m told I’ve gotten an eye for artistic critique, based on all the styles and details I’ve seen and read while here. That’s a good thing, because within 48 hours of joining the art club, it became painfully obvious that I still can’t draw. However, there is the occasional piece of art that is completely lost on me, and this is one of them.

Going by the colors, this “thing” looks like something Walt Disney threw up on. I think there is a face in there, but I lose sight of it when I try to focus on it. If I had to describe it, it looks like the painter started painting with heavy strokes, got bored, returned a few days later, and began painting something completely different, thus creating a layered cake effect.

Or graffiti on the Berlin Wall. I’m pretty sure this painting could stop bullets with the amount of stuff on the canvas.

Now, when I encounter something as mind-crushing as this, I usually give some snarky comment; however, given recent developments between certain members in the art club, I had to stick with the “I don’t get it” line.

“Hmm… I don’t get it, either.”

Upon hearing those words, I remove my hand from my chin, and cover my face with it.

“Rin, you’re the one who painted it; was there a point to it?”

“Of course there was; I just haven’t gotten that far yet.”

Eyebrow cocked, I open one eye and look out between my fingers at my companion. This rather eccentric girl is currently sitting on the table I’m leaning up against, and she is deep in thought. One usually wouldn’t be able to tell, but she was mirroring my “deep thought” pose. The only thing odd about that is that she was rubbing her chin with her foot.

“You do know that most people figure out their motivation before painting; right, Rin?”

“What about those who have no motivation? Some people have created images just because they have nothing better to do.”

Damn philosophical angle. She’s pulling that same argument from the festival on me, and she knows it… most likely. Thus having remembered how much that discussion hurt my brain, I drop it.

Rin continued to stare at the painting that she “created” with her dainty little feet. Okay, maybe not *that* dainty; however, she knew how to work the kinks out of my back after running through the “Emi Gauntlet.”

“You know, you should really write down all those philosophical thoughts you have. You could probably fill several volumes worth, and make millions off the sales. You’d never have to lift a finger again.”

“I guess I’m already rich; I don’t have to lift a finger now,” Rin stated, as she looked at me. She waved an armlet for emphasis.

“It’s just an expression,” I say, realizing my absent-minded faux-pas.

“Oh. I guess I’ll stick with being rich in mind and heart,” adding a slight smirk.

“Ah, you hurt me, madam.” I feign a blow to my manhood. “At least it wasn’t another crack at my ‘tackle.’”

“Oh, I think you can be upgraded from ‘tackle’ to ‘lure,’ now.” Her eyes, slightly unfocused as if remembering something, begin to wander down toward my crotch.

“Better make that ‘pole.’”

Thoroughly beaten, I look out the window and see that the few remaining clouds in the sky are covered in the setting sun’s warm red glow. I am reminded of a certain event occurring this night.

“Hey, Rin; sorry to bring this up on such sort notice, but…”

“Hisao, you should be proud with the size of your penis, so stop the humble…”

“I’m talking about something else, now!”

“Oh.”

Sometimes I wonder if she’s really spacey, or just pulling everyone’s leg.

“Seeing as how it’s Saturday, I was going to ask you if you want to go out tonight.”

“What does Saturday have to do with it?”

“We don’t have school tomorrow, and I don’t haven’t been Shanghaied into any council work tonight.”

Man, the puns don’t stop coming. Rin’s eyes drift toward the right as she ponders, and then locks onto my own.

“Sure, Boyfriend.”

“Great, I’ll meet you outside the girl’s dorms in an hour, Girlfriend.”

As I head toward the door, Rin spoke up.

“It’ll take you an hour to polish your ‘pole,’ Hisao?”

I gracefully walk into the doorframe with that comment.

- - - - - - - - - -

I reach the girl’s dorm with ten minutes to spare. I was dressed in some shorts and a t-shirt with a section of Rin’s festival mural on it; apparently, it was such a hit among the visitors that Mr. Nomiya had some shirts made up. I would have thought that some of the content would have been cause for concern amongst the people, but Mr. Nomiya gave us a passionate treatise on censorship and the arts. By the time he was done, I bought a shirt; partly because I was caught in the moment of “screw the bourgeoisie and their oppression,” but mostly just to shut him up.

Rin, on the other hand (ugh…), was wearing her trademark flip-flops, some shorts, and a medium-length sleeved Prussian Baby Blue-colored shirt with two red footprint right square in the breasts. Customized, I assume. We discussed the plans for tonight.

“Well, I hear from a fellow art member that the theater is showing a variety of old films tonight. There is also a new exhibit down at the art museum. How does that sound, Rin?”

“I can’t say; I’m not good at mimicry,” Rin deadpanned.

“I mean, how would you like to see that tonight?”

“I’d prefer with my eyes open,” she states, and as she notices me rubbing my temple, adds, “but yes, that sounds interesting.”

“I also assume it would be easier to have something to eat there, instead of elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere would only be hard if you make it hard. May I ask who told you about the new exhibit, Hisao?”

“Vinnie.”

Rin got a cute quizzical look on her face, so I elaborated.

“You know, that kid with the beret in my class.”

About twenty minutes, and several “Rin-domized” discussions later, including one about whether or not coconuts can actually migrate, we finally reached the theater. I was careful to remember the path we took from the school, because one of us had to know where we were going, and it sure wasn’t going to be Rin. Metaphorically, maybe; but not literally.

The theater is not your typical cinema-sized building, because this is not the big city. It’s quaint, like most of the buildings in town. Red seemed to be the designer’s favorite color, because the entire lobby is decked out in shades of it, from the carpet on the floor, to those curtain they bolt to the walls that have no real purpose, other than to give it that “theater-y” type of look. The foam-panel ceiling has some slight water stains in it, so that adds to that local kind of atmosphere. After we get the tickets, Rin goes into the screening room to find some seats, while I go get some stuff from the concession bar.

After juggling our food while getting the door open, and after walking into the trashcan, I stand in the back of the theater until my eyes adjust to the darkness. The light had already been dimmed, so I guess the movies are about to start. I glance around, until I notice Rin sitting right in the middle of the back row. I take my seat next to her, and let my eyes wander as we wait for show time. I look around, and notice we are the only couple in the entire theater. Well, there is some fat guy in the second-to-front row aisle seat, but he seems to be asleep.

The theater itself was a smaller one, the type used for movies that are on their way out or for special showings. As such, there was only the one door at the back and the aisle along the left wall. I hopped over Rin’s knees to sit right of her; I don’t know why, I just felt like having my right side free. A minor eccentricity, if you will. I placed Rin’s soda in the cup holder between us, mine on the right, and the popcorn in my lap.

“Are you planning on performing the ‘popcorn trick,’ Hisao?”

I hadn’t planned on it, but I feigned ignorance.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s when a boy cuts out a whole in the bottom of the bucket, and sticks his penis in it. The next thing his girlfriend gets a handful of won’t be popcorn.”

“No, I wasn’t going to do that for several reasons: first, you can’t exactly grab popcorn in that manner, Rin; and second, I didn’t want to waste the popcorn on that. Do you have any idea how much this cost? ”

“I enjoy eating popcorn sans feet, Hisao.”

It took me a moment for my brain to process what she meant by that; upon which the bucket in my lap met with some resistance. I stammered a bit, before I shut myself up and started to answer the inane questions that have been repeating on the screen for the past few minutes.

About a minute later, the lights dimmed, and the film started. This film was old, with old meaning that my father was probably a child when this was released. In fact, it was the cult classic Plan 9 From Outer Space. The film was in poor quality, it had clichéd elements, and EXTREMELY cheesy acting. With such ample fodder, no one else in the theater, and such a willing partner, I got to do something that was forced to stay confined inside my skull all the other times I watched bad movies: I got to talk back to the screen.

…

We sat in the theater for a good five minutes after the credits ended as we laughed and thought back on all the great riffs we shared. I’m telling you, they were hilarious. Anyway, after sneaking Rin into the men’s room to assist her with her shorts, we headed toward the museum. Well, actually, there wasn’t much issue with Rin in the men’s room: the t-shirt she had on was an XXL, and that managed to hide her rather “ample” curves, but anyway…

The museum is in the heart of town, which makes it slightly easier for me to remember how to get back to school. The museum is a rather large four-story building, with a warped, metallic, modern-art design to it that was popular back in the 1970s. This museum is apparently a happenin’ place for people and students of a certain inclination, and is open later for those patrons. I flashed the desk our school IDs, like we were a couple of VIPs, and we headed in.

The museum here isn’t as large as the ones found in bigger cities, but it is still impressive. Since I still hadn’t gotten a handle on the layout of the building, I insisted on grabbing the pamphlet with a map on it; Rin offered to hang on to it, but I declined when I told her she didn’t have any pockets in her shorts. I have gotten lost in museums before: let’s say I’m looking for the visiting exhibit on Ancient Egypt; I somehow wind up in a room styled like a Japanese temple filled with variations on statues of the Buddha. Go figure.

Even with a map, it took about fifteen minutes to find the exhibit Hall on the third floor. Rin didn’t seem to mind, as our path probably mirrored her thoughts on the path of life: full of twists, turns, and tribal masks. Anyway, the current exhibit on display is concerned with modern and postmodern art. How fortuitous. It is comprised of several famous paintings and sculptures from all over the world. As I read the information card, I noticed something somewhat odd.

“Hey, Rin, did you know that Yamaku sponsors this museum? I guess they want some of the students to enjoy true works of art, even if their bodies prevent them.”

“Either that, or they want the art to enjoy life outside of its usual museum room. Art wants to be free, like all man.”

I actually understood that; the concept, not the sentient paintings bit.

There wasn’t exactly anyone else in that particular room, and since I was still in a bit of a riffing mood, I decided to act on that feeling. The first thing I did, however, was to take note of where the light switches are in the area, so Rin doesn’t pull a fast one on me and claim that it’s installation art. That is, unless she can give me a real good argument otherwise.

…

We spent about two and a half hours in the museum as a whole. I swear, all those artists must be rolling in their graves from the amount of snark we were dishing out. We mostly kept the comments to “newer” artwork, specifically everything after the 18th century, although there were a few ancient ones that deserved what they got. Case in point, Rin happened upon an Ancient Greek statue, sans manhood.

“Age is cruel,” I comment as I walk stand next to Rin.

“He’s as hard as a rock, but I guess he wasn’t popular with the ladies,” Rin stated.

“Everyone knows that chicks dig thinkers; you know what they say about a big brain…,” I deadpan back.

“Oh, so you’re saying I like to play on both sides of the tennis court, eh?” Rin spoke as she gave a sly sideways glance toward me.

“I think you mean baseball tea… wait, WHAT?” I snap to attention.

“I don’t really care for baseball; tennis is more interesting,” she replied.

“No-no-no-no, I didn’t mean to call you…” I nearly had a heart attack as I stammered out an apology.

“Gotcha, Boyfriend. You certainly are a thinker, though…”

After I regained some manner of composure, we headed down to the café, which was located in the bottom floor. There were an assortment of snacks, drinks, and light meals; the usual museum fare. I settled on some juice and a fruit and yogurt parfait. Even while I’m out with Rin, Emi’s demonic puppy-eyes still leave their mark on my soul. Rin chose an assorted fruit dish. We decide to sit at the table in the corner of the room; we’re facing a window, but there isn’t much to see since it’s pitch-black outside, as it should be at this time of night.

We made some small talk, which through me off a bit because Rin wasn’t her usual self; I guess when she gets tried from a long day, she gets “normal.” Society-wise; I’m not going to discuss what is or isn’t “normal,” so you get the idea. I was about half-way finished with my parfait when I noticed Rin hadn’t touched her fruit. It took me about a minute to remember she doesn’t have hands. Funny how that works out with “disadvantages;” spend most of your time with that person, and you hardly remember they’re different.

“Rin, is there something wrong? You would usually just dig right in.”

“I felt that there should be some manner of etiquette when it comes to fruit; utensils don’t seem to go well with fruit, and I have no idea where my feet have been, aside from being attached to my legs.”

I offered to feed her, and she accepted. There must be a full moon out tonight, because I have been acting out in ways I usually don’t. A brief glance out the window confirms my suspicions. As such, I decide to have a little more fun with Rin. I take the vine of deep-purple grapes from her bowl and hang them a few inches in front of and above her eyes. She may be tired, but she appears to get where I’m going.

“I guess that makes you my harem girl, Hisao,” She slyly says to me as she pulls a grape off the vine with her teeth. I summon my best girly voice, which probably sounds like Misha with a sore throat.

“Whatever you desire, my prince,” I slyly shoot back at her. Rin decides to up the ante by slowly going for a low-hanging grape, and rather seductively use her moist tongue to wrap around and pull it off. It was a ripe, plump, juicy one; a small stream of juice began to dribble down the corner of her mouth. My eyes follow the dark liquid as it highlights the grooves of her lips; my concentration broken as her tongue slowly slides out, wiping the juice from her lips.

We shared what was in the bowl, mostly consisting of grapes, apple and orange slices, and a banana. When we got to the banana, the image that springs to mind when a young, hormonally-charged teenaged boy sees a banana sprung into mine. I looked over my shoulder to see how many people were near us; turns out they were having some sort of shindig in a meeting room across the way. Without saying a word, I peeled the banana, NORMALLY, and offered it to Rin.

Rin knew where my mind had wandered, and proceeded to toy with me as such; I swear I saw a brief smirk and some blush as she began her little performance on me. Rin, with suggestively half-closed eyes, inched toward the fruit until her mouth was centimeters from it. She opened her mouth, and slowly licked the underside of the pale white object with her warm, moist tongue. She traced the “veins” of the banana with her tongue, slowly, and eliciting some low moans. I don’t know if she was really playing me, or if she was really getting turned on; either way, lucky me.

All of a sudden, Rin forced her head down, shoving a bit more than half the banana in her mouth, and essentially deep-throating the phallic object. Understandably, I was at my wit’s end, in spite of the fact she was now sporting chipmunk cheeks from biting the banana off. She did manage to end on a high note, swallowing the goo and giving a slight moan.

“I can’t believe I took all that down in one gulp,” she slightly groaned out, as if tired from the act. I definitely saw some red in her cheeks; not even a statue could keep a straight face after that little number. I take a swig of my juice to “change the subject,” in a way. Rin, of course, had other plans.

“Is it alright if I try some of your parfait, Hisao?” I had forgotten about my own bit of food, and understandably so. As I loaded up a spoonful of yogurt, I had to fight the urge to not say, ‘Here comes the airplane;’ I took it as a sign that Rin was starting to rub off on me… (I probably should’ve reworded that), and after that banana, it would feel wrong, not to mention creepy.

Apparently, my mind-body connection wasn’t fully in sync, because when I refocused my vision on Rin, something was certainly amiss. First of all, either I need to work on my aim when I’m spoon-feeding someone, or she positioned herself that way on purpose. Second, “Little Hicchan” was beginning to scream out in pain from being confined in such formerly-loose-fitting shorts.

Rin was still wearing her usual straight face, but there was an obviously suggestive cosmetic cream added to parts of it. Yogurt was smeared all around her mouth, while a slightly large dab of that creamy yellow stuff slowly dribbled down her chin, threatening to fall on the table. One half of my mind began to fire into overdrive; the other one tried to prevent the stroke that was on the verge of happening from occurring while I fumbled with the napkins to wipe her face. “Little Hicchan” and I both agreed that it was time to go… NOW.

I couldn’t look Rin in the face for most of the hike back to the dorms. There was some awkward small-talk, and not the “Rin-type” of awkward. When I calmed back down a bit, I decided to make some more small-talk with Rin. Now, Yamaku does things a little differently than most of Japan, and not for the obvious reason. Maybe Shizune and Misha had a heat-induced bout of insanity, or maybe the principal likes that sort of thing, but whatever the case may be, they announced that there would be a Halloween celebration at the end of October. You know, because it wouldn’t be best to get dressed up or wear black in the middle of summer. The biggest problem is that your makeup would run. Anyway, I have no idea why I remembered that, but I was still had a little bit of snark left in me.

“Rin, do you remember that the school is having a Halloween party in a few months? If you can’t think of anything to go as, maybe you can be the Venus de Milo.”

“Is that because I’m a real piece of work?” Rin smirked back after she thought for a split-second.

“Damn straight, although your breasts may be a tad bit bigger than hers…”

“You want to check?”

“Umm…”

“I was talking about Venus,” she added, in a sly voice.

“Why must you make this so hard?” Sigh. There is no way I can beat her at this.

“Isn’t that my job?” Rin “innocently” cocked her head, as she spoke those words any boy would want to hear. My mind went blank for what felt like hours, but when I came to, I immediately whisked Rin into my arms and bolted toward my room; Kenji, the hall monitor, and my heart be damned. Good thing she doesn’t weigh that much.

----------

After about two straight hours of crotch-smokingly hot sex, we bathed in the afterglow. Then, out of nowhere, Rin’s painting popped into my head. I thought about it for a minute, before I spoke.

“Rin?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you mind if I kept that painting of yours?”

“Sure, I just figured out my motivation for it.”

“Alright, what was it?”

She locked her eyes with mine and said:

“It was a present for you.”

She then gave me a soft, sensual kiss, and snuggled into my chest as we both fell fast asleep.

You're a good writer and an MST3k fan? Can we keep you?

Okay, seriously though. Rin is my favorite girl, and I'd say you did a good job of capturing her Rinosity. Very cute and sweet story. Well done!

EDIT: Addendum:

Rin continued to stare at the painting that she “created” with her dainty little feet. Okay, maybe not *that* dainty; however, she knew how to work the kinks out of my back after running through the “Emi Gauntlet.”

SOMEBODY DRAW THIS.

GG Crono wrote:You're a good writer and an MST3k fan? Can we keep you?

I give you all the internet lands that Geocities lost.