butterfly in nine laps : kozue

Court: Don't ask. Utena movie spoilers. Some squick.

Butterfly in Nine Laps was originally a nine-part Utena movie fic. Because of FF.net's stricter guidelines, not all chapters can be posted here, so only the finished non-explicit parts have made it up.

When she came back from classes, there had been a kitten on her sheets.

She had dumped a sheet over the cat and watched it sleep on peacefully regardless; crawled on the bed and placed her hands on the lump to make certain it was real and the thing had not crawled away and hidden a cushion there instead. No, it had been warm, perversely so if it were a pillow, and yet she had to pull back the cover once more to make certain to herself that it was alive.

The question mark shape of the body, a baby deformed or a child miniature. Stillborn puss, buried secret in blue.

It couldn't go back to the garden either, she supposed. The ground had spit it out like a stone displeasing to its loam-coated mouth, and now they both sat here on the bed exposed--or they would be, if not for the number of eyes turned away in willing blindness.

Why had it chosen hers? she wondered. The answer came so quickly that she berated herself for even daring to be so lax--because it knew it would not be turned away.

Miki's bed was kept inplacably smooth by virtue of the number of times during the day he would come in to drop off a book or search for a sheet of music among the hundreds he'd had and would be unable to resist the minute it took to tug the covers straight again. He could read every instance that she had fingered those sheets by the miniscule depressions of her hand no matter how lightly she touched--Kozue was convinced of this just as she was convinced that he had been glaring at her after every time--and so she no longer made the attempt to hide it.

He'd asked her to stop only once when he'd caught her leaning over it, legs spread and braced with each foot at the bedposts to carry the weight of her mass on her thighs. She'd been careful not to contact the sheet, so very careful, with her hands folded dutifully behind her back and her chin high to keep her hair from touching the bedspread.

To her brother coming in, though, it must have appeared as if she were waiting for him to return simply so that she could bare her ass to him, the tightness of the gym shorts digging into the crevices of her skin, back arched like a cat in heat.

Kozue had only known he'd walked in on her when she heard the dull thud of his schoolbooks against the carpet; he hadn't wanted to come near her to shove her out of her position, and that had hurt more than if he had thrown them at her like she had been the animal come crawling beneath the covers.

The greater sin would have been to confess that she had been hunting for any hint of Miki's smell amidst the sheets, and so Kozue tolerated the muted disgust from his expression, the mental labeling of her as a lewd provocateur in that brief moment.

Even worse than that would be to admit she had caught something, right where she had expected--something soured and must near the center of the bed, with undertones of sweat. It had made her want to press her mouth to the spot and suck it out. Saliva could wet the fabrics through until she could sink her teeth into the taste discovered; she wanted to roll in it until the spit-stains were smeared in patterns that Miki could not deny for once.

Miki was getting older and making sounds in his sleep, noises that would turn frustrated when he woke up and didn't like the knowledge of why he couldn't get comfortable enough to fall back into dreams that wouldn't bother him this time. She could be older and more developed and even more a threat to him; she could be younger and still loom over him with the promise of changes to come. She was female but still his twin, whether he liked it or not. And he would love her--whether he liked to admit it or not.

He had promised they would always be twins, after all.

She assumed he chose simply not to think about it now, for his eyes only held suitably reined disquiet when they suspected her of her little acts of treason now.

Now returned from the pool, Kozue stripped the swimsuit away in quick motions, as hurried as if a lecher kept watch on her windows and she somehow professing innocence enough to be discomforted. She pulled the robe off the back of her chair and tied it around her, looping the sash in a loose tie that could be tugged to remove it at any time.

So composed, she walked to her bed.

Miki's last classes ended in half an hour, giving her plenty of time to think about how to greet him best. He'd taken up spending time out, though--only stopping by long enough to drop off his books and then grabbing for his practice equipment, his eyes averted from her as if that alone could erase her existance. Then he would not return until after most of the night would be done; dinner, homework, and research to be conducted safely away from their room. Her brother had turned remarkably social when he had realized his other options.

Fine, just as long he has to be alone too.

It felt good to be childish like that.

Half an hour would give her enough time to think of something that would work this time, she was sure of it. Should she lie on her bed and spread her hair just so, that she appeared as vulnerable as possible in slumber? There was the option of inviting him to take a hot bath with her, but he might not be in the mood and that would get her precisely nowhere at all.

Should she be awake and try to offer to help him with his studies again? Her own did not interest her at all; Kozue knew a smile and a few minutes after class were usually always enough to get her a passing grade, and as long as she technically graduated, who else could care? All that mattered was that she make it through so she could keep up with her brother. He couldn't leave her behind.

Not even if he wanted to.

Miki would be back in half an hour. This time, she would think of the right way to keep him.