Four Drabbles (and one half-drabble) from Katawa Otome
Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 4:14 pm
A drabble is a story in one hundred words. A half-drabble is a story in fifty words.
What if Katawa Shoujo was about a girl with a heart condition pursuing one of five different disabled boys?
-----
“I can’t bear to look at you,” he says.
My heart pounds. My knees grow weak. I knew it. I was stupid to think that he could love a wounded girl like me.
“When you came to me and showed me the scar on your chest, you were showing me all of yourself,” he goes on, “but all I could think of was how sexy you looked. I lost my mind. I took advantage and defiled you.” He bows his head. “I’m so ashamed.”
My fear and self-loathing sublimates into red-hot rage. “Haruki, you idiot!” I hiss through clenched teeth.
-----
Is this how I’m going to die? On this mountain, of a heart attack, held in Leigh’s arms?
He’s so warm. His arms are strong but gentle, as they cradle me tightly. I can hear his heart beating. It’s pounding so fast.
Why is he so scared? Is it because of me?
“Haruki! Lead me!” Leigh shouts.
“M-m-m-maybe I should carry her!” Haruki protests.
I know what he’s thinking. The mountain path is treacherous. One bad misstep, and we could both fall. And if he’s carrying me, Leigh can’t use his cane.
“You’re not big enough!” Leigh points out. "Go!"
-----
I’m thrown down onto the bed, my hands pinned to the mattress. His lips against mine are rough and desperate. My heart is pounding like a jackhammer.
What’s come over Shirou? Is this his way of lashing out at his mother?
His lips move down from my mouth to the hollow of my throat. His hand is reaching up my skirt. I turn away and close my eyes, terrified.
I’m not ready.
Shirou’s hand comes to a stop on my hip. He rolls off me, straightening his tie. [I’m sorry,] he signs.
He walks out, closing the door behind him.
-----
“You’d better come inside. You’re going to catch your death of cold.”
Ryouta nods and follows me into my dorm room like a lost puppy. Water drips off his soaking wet body, pooling into the floor.
I carefully unbutton his shirt and put aside, leaving him naked to the waist. He’s never been very big, but after his ordeal in the atelier, he’s gotten so skinny I can see his ribs sticking out. “You need to eat more,” I say, picking up my towel.
“I know,” he whispers.
I wrap the towel around his head and start drying his hair.
-----
“So, you want to try it?” Eiichi asks.
“Try what?”
“Anal.”
Birds outside stop chirping.
The wind dies down.
Somewhere, a man is drinking a cup of coffee. He freezes with the cup at his lips.
“No, not really,” I say.
“Fair enough,” Eiichi says. “Let’s get out of here.”
What if Katawa Shoujo was about a girl with a heart condition pursuing one of five different disabled boys?
-----
“I can’t bear to look at you,” he says.
My heart pounds. My knees grow weak. I knew it. I was stupid to think that he could love a wounded girl like me.
“When you came to me and showed me the scar on your chest, you were showing me all of yourself,” he goes on, “but all I could think of was how sexy you looked. I lost my mind. I took advantage and defiled you.” He bows his head. “I’m so ashamed.”
My fear and self-loathing sublimates into red-hot rage. “Haruki, you idiot!” I hiss through clenched teeth.
-----
Is this how I’m going to die? On this mountain, of a heart attack, held in Leigh’s arms?
He’s so warm. His arms are strong but gentle, as they cradle me tightly. I can hear his heart beating. It’s pounding so fast.
Why is he so scared? Is it because of me?
“Haruki! Lead me!” Leigh shouts.
“M-m-m-maybe I should carry her!” Haruki protests.
I know what he’s thinking. The mountain path is treacherous. One bad misstep, and we could both fall. And if he’s carrying me, Leigh can’t use his cane.
“You’re not big enough!” Leigh points out. "Go!"
-----
I’m thrown down onto the bed, my hands pinned to the mattress. His lips against mine are rough and desperate. My heart is pounding like a jackhammer.
What’s come over Shirou? Is this his way of lashing out at his mother?
His lips move down from my mouth to the hollow of my throat. His hand is reaching up my skirt. I turn away and close my eyes, terrified.
I’m not ready.
Shirou’s hand comes to a stop on my hip. He rolls off me, straightening his tie. [I’m sorry,] he signs.
He walks out, closing the door behind him.
-----
“You’d better come inside. You’re going to catch your death of cold.”
Ryouta nods and follows me into my dorm room like a lost puppy. Water drips off his soaking wet body, pooling into the floor.
I carefully unbutton his shirt and put aside, leaving him naked to the waist. He’s never been very big, but after his ordeal in the atelier, he’s gotten so skinny I can see his ribs sticking out. “You need to eat more,” I say, picking up my towel.
“I know,” he whispers.
I wrap the towel around his head and start drying his hair.
-----
“So, you want to try it?” Eiichi asks.
“Try what?”
“Anal.”
Birds outside stop chirping.
The wind dies down.
Somewhere, a man is drinking a cup of coffee. He freezes with the cup at his lips.
“No, not really,” I say.
“Fair enough,” Eiichi says. “Let’s get out of here.”