I don’t know why I can’t seem to write my actual fictions these days. This was partially inspired by Describe Me by froggi3. And there won’t be much Sou/Mi until the end. NOTE: It’s going to be a little random because these are Misao’s thoughts that just pop into her head. And my dividers aren't working again sigh

You come to love not by finding the perfect person,
but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.

Appealing…beautiful, gracious.

Those words have never been used to address me by.

Mostly, the words that are used to describe me are far from that.

Itatchi.

Tomboy.

Ninja.

I don’t have the face of a geisha.

I can’t be as witty as Megumi.

I don’t wear kimonos or ribbons in my hair like Kaoru.

I’m not timid and shy like Tsubame.

I’m not graceful like the Sakura petal that falls from a tree.

I’m not vibrant or tempting like a flower.

I’m not quiet and wistful like grass in the wind.

I’m everything but the normal lady-like women that you can see chatting happily or blushing behind pretty fans. I don’t wear my hair piled elegantly atop my head; I don’t wear thick makeup on me. I don’t walk gracefully or talk quietly. I don’t have tiny red lips or dainty, silken hands. My hands are calloused and rough, they catch on the fiber of my shorts and shirts.

I curse too much, often getting sour looks from local ladies and handsome men. I’m loud and I say whatever insult rolls into my head. I’m immature at times, and I’ve heard more than one person whisper to someone while looking at me.

I loose my temper far too quickly, usually ending by kicking or throwing Kunai at something. I’m short, even Kaoru’s taller than me, and I’m only one year younger than her. I don’t have wide, refined hips, mine look like straight lines going down my body. I don’t have breasts, what little I do have don’t compare to normal sixteen year old girls. How could someone find me attractive?

I feel a sigh escape my lips, staring aimlessly at my reflection in the small mirror in my hand. I jump slightly as a knock on wood alerts me, feeling a tiny smile curve my lips as his soft voice reaches my ears.

“Misao-kun? Are you in there?” I see his faint outline through the thin paper on my door; I get up swiftly to open it for him. “Yeah, I’m here Sou.” I say with a partially false smile stretching my face. I step aside to let him in, and he does so with a polite nod and another one of his artificial grins.

He and I are much alike. He wears a smile to hide his feelings; I use mine not to show them. His is used to mask the true pain inside himself, but it can’t escape me. His warm navy eyes, however caring they can be, don’t match the expression on his face.

I use mine to do the same thing, hide my inner conflict and self-loathing. Everyone always tells me how sparkly my eyes are, but when he gazes into them I know he can read me like an open scroll. His face is always thoughtful when he looks at me, that’s probably how my face looks when I look at him.

That’s what he’s doing now. “Misao? Is something troubling you?” He questions in that same, almost worried voice, his bright smile is reduced to a gentle curve of his lips. “N-no, just thinking.” I mutter, the words falling almost false from my lips.

He ruefully shakes his head a moment, stepping a bit closer to my form to place calm hands on my shoulders. “I know something’s troubling you, and I won’t leave this room until you tell me what it is.” He states stubbornly, much like me, stubborn.

I purse my lips tightly, rolling unsure eyes to my feet and slightly shaking hands. I can’t look like this, Okashira of the Oniwabanshu, who are proud and strong, not shaky girls who pity themselves. “It’s nothing you could help Sou-kun.” I murmur, looking back up to him when he adds a gentle squeeze to my shoulders. “But I can still try.”

I try to swallow the knob in my throat, working my jaw wordlessly for a moment. “What do you think of me?” He seemed to be caught off guard, eyes widening as far as I’ve ever seen them, mouth slightly slack. He closes both his eyes and mouth for a second, opening his eyes to look at me.

Affection. Adoration. That’s what I see playing in his eyes right now. Surprising, I’ve never seen those emotions in his eyes, mostly pain and endless longing. “Well,” he started, leading me carefully to the center of the room to sit across from me, never leaving eye contact. To be honest, I didn’t want him to avert his gaze from me.

“You’re vibrant and full of welcomed energy.” Welcomed? I always thought people didn’t like my energy. “And you’re kind when you want to be, I’ve seen that many times, although you might not want to admit it Misao-kun, you’re a very caring girl.” Caring too? I thought everyone thought of me as a standoff girl with a rude mouth.

I watched with slight amazement as the usually false smile he wore grew soft and wistful. “Even though you talk much, it’s not entirely unwelcome to people who like to hear stories or others’ opinions.” People didn’t say it, but I thought they didn’t like my talking; he likes to hear me talk? Me?

I feel my eyes widen considerably as his hand came up to brush my bangs, recoiling quickly after as a flash of fear and self-scolding run through his eyes. “But..” A thin pinch of fear pecked my heart at that one word. “You’re smile. It’s not fitting to your eyes.” His tone is sad, thickened a little by unshed tears.

My fingers are sweaty my lungs are suddenly heavier. “How-how did..” I trail off, noticing the knowing of his gaze and the artificial curve of his mouth.

“I would know Misao. I know the real reason behind your smile.” I look down, a sudden sense of guilt washing over my heart. “I know too. I can see the real reason behind your smile too Soujiro.” He looked down just as I did. Just as I’ve been doing.

“What-what do you think of me then?” his voice was unsure, filled with fear, sadness and slight longing. “My reflection.” I say simply, my smile this time becoming whole, complete. Something I haven’t felt until I met him and until now.

“Your…reflection?” His head came back up, gazing at me with question and a hint of surprise. I nodded, “Just like me, but now I want you to smile for real, like I am now.” With that, I leaned over, wrapping my arms around his abruptly stiff shoulders. I held onto him without a sign of letting go, that stubbornness not allowing me to untwine them from his form. Gradually, his muscles loosened, and I felt his arms shift to enfold my waist and bring me closer.

It was nice, and very welcomed to both him and myself I knew. “My reflection.” He muttered into my ear, and I pulled back with a true, happy smile. I was happy because his smile was like the one that adorned mine, and I felt a void fill me up, I knew that’s what happened at this moment for his also.

I got up, not feeling like a gangly spider anymore, I felt like a Sakura petal, I felt like the wistful grass, most of all, I felt like me, Misao. I offered my hand to him, and he grasped it tenderly as I hoisted him up without effort.

We walked out of my room onto the patio, together, like reflections that would never fade into memory or hatred. I’m Misao. And I wouldn’t trade anything to be anything else but me.

Cornyness….make it stop. Yeah..I’m bored. I hope you enjoyed!