Previously posted on LiveJournal. I don't own anything, etc, etc.
I would like to mention I am not current with the manga. Please, no spoilers in the reviews past the American volume 12. Thank you!
Temple [Doumeki, cha. 13]
I hate guys like you. When I overheard your pathetic attempts to impress Kunogi, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to piss you off. Yeah, you're one of the few people that can keep up with me on a soccer field, but that doesn't change the fact that you're an obnoxious, loudmouthed idiot. Even worse, you're one of those types whose whole world hinges on the opinion of someone else.
I've never understood why anyone would let someone else effect their life that much.
"And six full–fledged miracles happened at the school today?"
While you are a fool, it's amusing to watch you flail and sputter and wave your arms as I walk away. I'm not going to miss class over someone like you.
That should've been the end of it.
Which is why I'm surprised the next day when you stalk right up to me during lunch period, a glower on your face, and mutter something incoherent. I raise an eyebrow. You repeat yourself, understandable this time, and now both my eyebrows shoot up. You want what? My expression seems to annoy you, as does my next comment, and your contorting face only compounds my amusement further. "Huh? You want to do a ghost story night at my temple?"
Because little do you know that it is my temple. It was my grandfather's, and now it's mine, and I have absolutely no intention of letting a fool like you taint the sanctity of it. "Why should I let you use my place for your play time activities?" My amusement had moved beyond curiosity and into irritation. Do you even know what goes on inside a Shinto temple?
You do your full–body protest act again and mutter some convoluted explanation that I ignore, catching only the words boss made me, and didn't wanna. There's no may I, no please. You don't even realize how inexplicably rude it is of you to approach me at school with this request instead of properly asking me at the temple itself. I'm so annoyed that I can't even think of words.
I open my mouth to tell you no way when your eyes go wide and you glance over your shoulder to look out the window at something that isn't there. It's a strange habit that gets many girls whispering about how it's a shame you're so weird, but I don't notice. Because for that split second, your face cracks open – it's raw and painted with fear. But your right eye…
Your right eye is as amber–gold as the ones I see in the mirror every day.
And suddenly, no way becomes, "Okay," and your attention is drawn back to me, and both your eyes are blue again. You're lucky I'm a man who keeps his word, because written between the surprise and the anger on your face is grudging acceptance. Well, I don't want you in my temple, either.
But I remember my grandfather's words about things that appear one way thing but are really another, and how I should never doubt that there are things to this world that can't be seen. I pray it was just a trick of the light, because the faster you're in and out of my life, Watanuki, the better.
You glare and wait for me to finish the sentence, and my mind churns with all the ways I can end it. Don't think you're welcome. Don't think that you don't owe me.
Don't think this makes us friends.
"Wear a yukata." I arch an eyebrow. "You do own one, don't you?" That gets you riled enough that even as I walk away, I can hear your dumb shouts all the way down the hallway.
For some reason, I suddenly feel the need to hold my bow, and practicing archery seems pressingly important.