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This diary entry is written by ‹***そら***のあなたはだいき›. ( View all entries )
Previous entry: Cherry Blossom Snow {Ichi} in category fan-fiction

~{Trix Are for Kids}~ICHICategory: fan-fiction
Sunday, 30 May 2010
02:52:43 AM (GMT)
[] <Those are for emphasis. I didnt feel like typing out the codes. 

Ichi::Annive-To Hell With It {Part One}

She sat comfortably, back straight, in a classic red barstool. At a bar. With her
drinking problem. She liked the taste, the rush, the numbness, that alchohol gave
her. That overall thrill of a special liquid high. It all blanked out the [sadness]
she truely felt; overruled the [loneliness], the [hopelessness]. It helped her forget
that painful knowledge of being the [only] one left, the fact that her dearest friend
was [never] coming back......

"You've got this new head filled up with smoke, I've got my veins all tangled

Long healthy red hair, high-lighted with strawberry blond and orange, flowed down
past her shoulders, perfectly straight. And her innocent candy-red eyes were rimmed
with a delicate pink. 

Her nimble fingers held themselves tightly onto a tall, cylindrical glass. It was
half full with a thick tomato-soup like liquid, accompanied by a partially eaten
celery stick. A barely visible pink lip imprint decorated a single spot of the glass
neatly. This was her fifth drink. 

"--to the jukebox bars you frequent; the safest place to hide--"

Tingles rushed faintly up her nerves and atop the surface of her skin. Because of her
[drinking] problem. She couldn't think clearly, if she thought at all. Because of her
[drinking problem]. Her eyes situated themselves on the celery stick protruding from
her Bloody Mary. 

"Miss Rukia, you put up a magnificent show. Why don't you take the money from Mako at
the door and go home? You deserve some rest after such an amazing performance,"
rumbled the sweetly deep voice of the oh-so caring bartender, Tatsu. He was a kind
boy. Only about twenty-three. Punk-styled white hair with bloody red tips for every
layer. Grey eyes. One of the redheaded girl's close friends. 

"--A long night spent with your most obvious weaknesses; you start shaking at the

Rukia smiled stupidly [drinking problem, you fools!!], glancing up to gaze
momentarily at Tatsu. A small nod on her part and before she knew it, the bartender
was right beside her, tugging on the sleeve of her red mini-kimono, dragging her
through the crowd of club-hopping patrons up to the burly bouncer that seemed to be
keeping Rukia's earnings. 

The man wasn't very big, but he compensated for that by being scary. His eyes were a
deep scarlet, instense and mysterious. His hair was spiked in certain places, but
most of it was perfectly straight and reached the middle of his back. A blue bandage
if somekind wrapped itself around his forehead, giving him that Vincent Valentine
look. He seemed to be going for it anyway. Mako did indeed also have a very pretty
long-barrel gun tucked away in a holster strapped to his leg. And this man was
glaring at anyone who passed him by, arms crossed. Signature.

"--And you are everything I want, 'cause you are everything I wa-nt--" 

"Hey, Mako! Roo's goin' home. Give her the money so that she can go," Tatsu yelled
above the loud, bass-littered, howling-voiced music. 

Rukia giggled for no apparent reason, twirling a strand of straigtened hair around
her finger. She was drunk. That much was obvious. 

"--And we lay, we lay together just not too close, too clo-se. How close is close
eno-ugh? We lay, we lay together, too close, too clo-se--"

"I see." Mako's seemingly permanent frown remained intact as he stuffed a thick wad
of yen in the redhead's white obi. Stepping to the side to let her through, he
scrutinized every movement she made. It was out of necessity. He didn't like it when
she was drunk. 

"Thaaaaaaank you," Rukia said, a bright smile pulling at her lips, still being a
mindless zombie. Mako only nodded as he gently nudged her outside. The giant rusty
metal door closed behind her, slowly. 

"--Well I just wanna break you down so badly, while I trip over everything you
sa-y. I just wanna break you down so badly, in the worst wa-y--"

She was standing at the mouth of a dark alley, staring down the shadow of the moon
illuminating the streets, the music still beating though a little muffled. It was a
noiseless night. Even the club music was silent out in the alleys and streets. But
she didn't really care. 

A drunken grin lifted the corners of her lips. Taking a clumsy step closer to the
opening of the alley, she placed her tiny hand on the musty wall of the building she
worked at, of which she never paid attention to. She took another stumble toward the

"--My inarticulate store-bought hang-over hobby kit, it ta-lks. And it says 'You,
oh, you are so cool--'"

Then something heavy and blunt managed to nail her right smack in her frail shoulder.
Pain shot through her veins, and a weak shreik followed soon after. Her arm became
numb and she couldn't move that appendage. Agonizing pain strangled the order to
adjust, jerked her body off track. It hurt. Unbearably so. And it scared her. 

"[Pretty] girl, aren't you?" a husky voice grumbled cruelly, taking a harsh hold on
Rukia's long hair and yanking her backwards against the very....smelly newcomer. "So
[unable to fight] back, too, eh? Ha! Lucky me," he laughed roughly, sliding a free
hand over her mouth. 

"--Scissor-shaped across the bed, you are red, violent red. You hollow out my
hungry eyes, you hollow out my hungry eyes--"

Rukia shuddered against the musty scent this stranger gave off. The 'vomit feeling'
washed over her, drowning out the drunken state she was in. Another pull on her hair.
Fire seemed to tear across her scalp. Explosions danced in her probably dislocated
shoulder. Disgust wafted through her nostrils. But fear beat her through and through.

The night was strangely [unforgiving] tonight. 

"--And we lay, we lay together just not too close, too close. How close is close
eno-ugh? We lay, we lay together just not too close, too close--"

The man howled with sick laughter, his hands gripping her arms tightly, slamming the
fragile girl into the wall opposite the club. And he did that quite harshly.
Repeatedly. Many times over did the fifteen-year-old girl feel the shattering of her
ribs and shoulder...

"--I just wanna break you down so badly, while I trip over everything you sa-y. I
just wanna break you down so badly, in the worst wa-y--"

Even though her body was certainly suffering from internal bleeding or broken bones,
the poor girl refused to let the pain shine through. She couldn't. Otherwise
this...[icky] man would just keep going and going and going. Rukia watched the street
shake left and right as she collided with the wall a few more times.

"--I'm gonna make damn sure that you can't ever leave. No, you won't ever get too
far from me, you won't ever get too far from me--"

But it stopped. And even though the weakening beating had stopped, she still found
herself tumbling into the wall again, scraping down and into a tiny pool of her own
blood. She was [bleeding]...? The man loomed over her, giving her one last disarming
punch across the face, and moved his hands to quickly undo his [belt] and pants. 

"--I'll make damn sure that you can't ever leave. No, you won't ever get too far
from me. You won't ever get too far from me, you won't ever get too far from me. You
won't ever get too far!--"

Little did either of them know that someone else's presence entered the alley at this
point. He gave off a frightening, threatening, angry air. But they failed to notice
untill he spoke.

"--I just wanna break you down so badly, while I trip over everything you sa-y. I
just wanna break you down so badly, in the worst way, worst wa-y--" 

"I think that's [enough]." Cool, superior. Malice hidden by a polite facade. Wait. Is

Bruising pressure equalled gone. But the pain was still there. Visibally. She could
feel it. Her eyes were shut tightly, but she could still feel the pain etched on her
skin... The broken-ness of her ribs, the dislocated joint of her shoulder, the sharp
and deep cut across her cheek, the shattered lump she once called a lion's nose. 

"--I'm gonna make damn sure-- I just wanna break you down so badly--"

Tears trickled from her eyes, soft sobs rolled off her tongue. 

"Rukia. Don't cry." That quiet yet forceful silk voice. "Lets go." Just like him to
do that. He wasn't much of a helper. 

"--I just wanna break you down so badly, damn sure. In the worst way, wost

[But at least he was back.]

Such a [cliché]. A creep from the shadows, beating a beautiful girl with a drinking
problem untill she could not even [think] about fighting back, just so that he
could...well, 'do the deed'. And a superior and powerful anti-social hero just so
happens to calmly come across this demented scene. He probably murdered the drunken
man, and welcomed the girl to come home. So cliché.     

And a whole new song started up again.

One year later...

"Sasori-kuuuuun!" a sugar-coated voice howled, echoing down the beige and gold
colored halls, bouncing off the red tile floors. It was the beautiful, bouncy maid
Rukia, happily making her way toward the deep maroon door of her employer's room.
Casually dressed in a pair of powder blue skinnies and soft pink wife-beater, hair
thrown up into a clean red pony-tail, save for her bangs. 

She was surprisingly happy, simply [bursting] at the seams with utter joy. Today was
a very good day, one that [needed] to be celebrated, the redheaded spaz decided, a
bright and comfortable smile etched onto that oh-so beautiful face of hers.

Her eyes traced the wood grain lines of her master's door, waiting very patiently for
it to open. It was eight-thirty. 'Sasori-kun should be awake by now,' Rukia thought,
frowning just slightly. A sigh soon escaped her lips. 

It's been [exactly] one year since the incident in the alley, one year since she met
Sasori again after three years. To put it bluntly, it was an anniversary of the first
they've seen each other in [a while]. And Rukia just wanted to celebrate it with her

A thump sounded inside the room. 

"Sasori-kun!" she gasped brightly, clapping her hands together as silky footsteps
followed after and abruptly stopped. Two thin shadows planted themselves just before
the door; his legs. And the handle jiggled pathetically. 'C'mon, Sasori-danna.

The door creaked quietly, slowly opening up to a pale man with messy red hair adorned
only in a pair of red and black boxers. A black scorpion tattoo decorated his
shoulder and upper arm, whilst a kanji for 'scorpion' centered itself in a large teal
circle tattooed on the spot over his heart. His ambery-necter eyes, half-lidded,
smouldered threateningly behind the tips of his flaming auburn hair. Oddly enough, he
had a nice little eight-pack going on. And toned arms...

['Snap out of it, Roo!'] 

With a sheepish yet heart-warming grin, Rukia lifted her arm up and softly poked
Sasori in the exact middle of his chest. "Guess what today is, Sasori?" She flashed
him her straight white teeth, gently sweeping the hair from his beautiful eyes. 

And in those eyes she saw the [slightest] hint of confusion. But it was gone as soon
as Sasori blinked. He quickly made a tight grab for the petite girl's wrist,
attempting to force her to stop jabbing him. It was frustrating. 

The action startled her, making Rukia jump up a little. She even flinched. 

"Today's [what], exactly?" he asked, silk monotone, like he didn't do anything, like
the young girl didn't do anything. Sasori stared at her for a minute or two as she
thought of an answer, tracing the outline of her perfect face, ignoring the fading
scar on her lightly dusted-with-freckles cheek. 

It was hard to believe that her nose didn't used to be straight; that her shoulder
didn't used to be broken and restricted; that she didn't used to be so jumpy; that
she didn't used to be so scared. Sasori hated that it had happened to her, of [all]
people. He [loathed] it intensely. Why couldn't it have happened to some low-life

Just barely even a year ago, this poor, [beautiful] girl started a drinking problem.
He hated [that], too. 

"One year ago today, August twenty-fifth, it was the first time we met after three
years," the sweet girl explained, glancing to the left, averting the hardened eyes of
Sasori. "I just thought we should celebrate... It's like a holiday for me." Her voice
was sheepish and begging. 

Sasori hated [that], also. 

'When will she learn that she doesn't ever have to beg me?' He'd do [anything] for
her, buy [anything] for her, [anything]. Too bad he didn't know he that he felt this
way... He pulled the door open more, allowing the girl to see all of him; his body
language, his expression. Better just to let her analyze. It's easier for her to
understand things if she can see them. 

He stood up straight and tall, an arm firmly situated against the door frame, the
other at his side. There was no obvious indication of an emotion, he knew, but Rukia
was able to read him like an open book, just as he could her. 

"What'd you have in mind?" he asked flatly, eyes still half-lidded and face still

Rukia blinked, sparkling red eyes veering back to the twenty-three-year-old man. Was
he serious? Of course he was. He's [always] serious. Oddly. She thought for a moment
about what to say. "I was thinking that we could make a nice breakfast, watch a movie
or two...and maybe even have Deidara and Kakuzu come over and..."

"No. It can be just [us]." Sasori really did [hate] it when his co-workers entered
his house. They always took advantage of Rukia. [Except] for Deidara and Pein. Those
two were like family to the girl. Deidara was like an older brother. Pein was like
her dad. Sometimes he wondered if he was anything like that to her. But he instantly
flushed it from his mind. 

He watched as her face grew bright. He liked that. He didn't quite know why, but he

Rukia clapped her hands together again, having been released by her master. And with
a sweet smile, she turned, wiggled her hips and stepped into the center of the
hallway. "You go ahead and get dressed. I can wait." She threw a glimmering grin over
her shoulder at the redheaded man. 

But he didn't shut the door like she thought he would. Sasori just...stood there,
eyeing her with those nectary amber eyes. They were like sweet honey orbs of a hidden
emotion that seemed to melt her worries away. Delicious peanut butter cups.... She
hated that whenever she looked him in the eye she thought of candy.

Still, he stood there, analyzing her. One arm dropped to his side, relaxed after the
small tingles of 'sleep' pricked at his veins, whilst the other slowly motioned for
her to enter his darkened room.

--I shall update if you want me too, yo. Just say the word.
Last edited: 30 May 2010

‹violetfields› says:   30 May 2010   134978  
'When will she learn that she doesn't ever have to beg me?' He'd do
[anything] for
her, buy [anything] for her, [anything]. Too bad he didn't know he
that he felt <--- grammar error!}  

way... He pulled the door open more, allowing the girl to see all of
him; his body
language, his expression. Better just to let her analyze. It's easier
for her to
understand things if she can see them. 

PLEASE update cause i LURVE it!

‹***そら***のあなたはだいき› says :   30 May 2010   802474  
Lol. I know. I make grammatical errors a lot. Although I don''t quite
get that one... Lol. 

I'll update as soon as I can thinkof what towrite forthe next part!!


Next entry: Cherry Blossum Snow--{Ni} in category (general)

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