Unspoiled by forthright
Hoppy, Croppy, Poppy
Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this foray... especially for the one who remembers his manners. A nod of recognition is bent towards Rumiko Takahashi for her creative prowess.
A version of this drabble was originally posted to Live Journal on June 7, 2010.
Hoppy, Croppy, Poppy
Kagome lay back on the blanket spread upon the grassy bank, arms widespread as she basked. After so many days of rain, the sun’s return was most welcome. It feels good to be outdoors again. I’m glad Hisoka-sensei resumed Sesshoumaru-sama’s field trips.
A shadow fell across her face, and she opened an eye. “That was quick,” she greeted.
“I am quick,” Sesshoumaru replied.
The young lord moved to the fire and efficiently skewered chunks of meat on the sticks Kagome had peeled earlier. “Can I help?” she offered.
“No.”
“I do know how to cook.”
“I will do this,” he replied firmly.
According to Hisoka, Sesshoumaru was following instincts he was too young to fully comprehend, but they should encourage him to act upon them. It’s like when I was a little girl and played ‘house’ with my dolls, except that little demon boys play ‘pack’ with their humans. She was still smiling over the idea when the shadow returned. She peeped at him through her lashes and found the lordling staring at her with fixed intensity.
Sesshoumaru leaned down until their noses almost touched, and her eyes crossed. “Higurashi, you have spots,” he announced solemnly.
“Eh? Oh! They’re freckles.”
He straightened, golden eyes widening. “The human markings you spoke of?”
“Erm... yeah,” Kagome replied, self-consciously rubbing the bridge of her nose as she sat up. “They crop up in the summertime. When I was little, Mama called them sunshine kisses.”
Sesshoumaru’s head tipped to one side, and he wore an expression she’d never seen on his face before. He looks like a little boy who wants something very badly... and is figuring out how to get it. For a second, he reached for her, but then he tucked his hands behind his back and quietly asked, “May I touch?”
Kagome wasn’t sure if he was respecting her personal space or if he was allowing her the same courtesy afforded to all youkai who bore markings on their skin, but she appreciated being asked. “Sure, it’s okay.”
One small fang pressed into Sesshoumaru’s lip as his finger gently traced a path over her cheek. He took so much time, Kagome wondered if he was counting each one. “If we stay in the sun will they multiply further?” he asked curiously.
“Yeah.”
“Then you will stay,” he declared. Sitting down beside her, Sesshoumaru gazed expectantly into her face.
“You’re going to watch for more freckles?” she asked bemusedly.
“I want to see,” he nodded.
“For the record, most human girls don’t like getting freckles; they spoil one’s complexion.”
He met her gaze and bluntly announced, “I like them.”
“Why?”
“They are pleasing,” he declared loftily. “You are like a speckled egg.”
End Note: This drabble was originally written for the Live Journal community dokuga(underscore)contest and their Weekly Perfection prompt for Week #90—Grass. My contest entry was trimmed back to exactly 300, but this version stands at 450 words.