Tanpopo chirps sweetly, pecking the edge of Himawari's plate of grilled sweetfish.
"He's quite lovely," Yuuko-san declares with a hint of a smirk on her glossy red lips. She takes a delicate, mindful sip of her bottle of ginjo-shu sake.
Moonlight fills the backyard of Yuuko's shop, illuminating the hundreds of spring-pink petals fluttering in the sakura trees. Himawari gaze adoringly at the view, humming and nodding.
"I was told… I have you to thank for him."
"Only for the knowledge," Yuuko admits plainly. A low, scoffing laugh. "Watanuki made his decisions on his own. As he always has."
There's something alluring about the bright blue of her kimono, contrasting to the obsidian-gem clasps and the darkly colored, straight piping. Or it's yhe voluptuous reveal of Yuuko's cleavage, due to the slinky, form-fitting quality of its make.
Himawari understands now why Watanuki occasionally gets flustered around his employer.
"That sounds like him," she agrees, looking back at the other woman and tilting her head with a calming, friendly smile. Watanuki's neck-scars ache at the shifting, new tension, right at the base of her nape.
Himawari's expression drops.
Yuuko watches her with a familiar, studious look, eyeing Himawari's pale, right hand clenching up, lifting to touch the back of her neck gingerly.
"It will be a long road to recovery… for both you and Doumeki… do you regret it, Himawari-chan?"
"Never," Himawari says without hesitation, rearranging her cheerful, earnest smile. She pets Tanpopo's feathery, yellow head when he chirrups a worried note, snuggling to Himawari's finger.
That's when Himawari feels a palm heedfully cradling the side of her face, treating her so gently.
Her thudding pulse leaps frantically in Himawari's gaping-open mouth. She leans out, nearly falling over the porch, mumbling, "You shouldn't—"
"Do not be frightened, Himawari-chan. No harm shall come to me by touching you." Yuuko's wine-red eyes crinkle with a pseudo-sly grin. "Any hitsuzen bestowed upon me is of my own making."
It's an eerie, fond glint of light, materializing there.
Himawari accepts the weight of Yuuko's thumb pressing upon her bottom lip, stroking the pillowy curve, tugging slightly to expose her gums.
"Lovely," Yuuko repeats, winking noticeably.
There's allure to her, yes, but mystery and danger — everything is considered a risk as a witch. Himawari reminds herself what she's getting into, grasping deliberately onto Yuuko's opera-gloved wrist and pulling her to their feet, leading her in.
No one has braved touching her since Watanuki's accident. Himawari feels herself starving for it, for the affection and reverence, practically tingling.
The arona of opium and fragrance hits her nostrils. Himawari feels the tendrils of silvery, translucent smoke drifting against her mouth and her bared, vermilion-scarred flesh, as she unbuttons her school uniform, peeling off of her stockings.
A price is never uttered, not on Yuuko's full, red lips willingly covering hers, not the threshold of an orgasm, not when an exhausted, perspiring Himawari lays her forehead to Yuuko's breasts.
xxxHOLIC isn't mine. It's been so long since I've done more for this fandom! And with these two! :) Any comments/thoughts so so appreciated!