La Corda D'Oro: four practice snips
Feb. 15th, 2010 09:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreIt's been ages since the last time I did a ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
15minuteficlets run. :D These redefine the meaning of 'unpolished' and 'craptastic,' but I like to use these prompts to learn how to write new characters. These ficlets usually suck, but in today's case I might actually use some of the details later. And... I don't want something to get overwritten again, dammit.
For those that don't know, the point of that community was to force you to write for fifteen minutes only, without editing or nitpicking. As you can imagine, this produces scary stuff.
So.
Don't read them.
Series: La Corda D'Oro
Characters: Yunoki Azuma (focus), Hino Kahoko, Hihara Kazuki
Words: 1705, total
......
Prompt: stretched
His grandmother knew the power of silence, and Azuma felt his mask stretch as the minutes ticked by, knew she meant him to feel the strain, yet couldn't convince his shoulders to straighten or his muscles to relax. He rested his gaze on the bright green of his tea, untouched, a clear, strong, loud color in that dark room, where the cypress wall panels and hard wood floors kept the space dark even when the overhead lamp was on. How telling, really, that his grandmother chose this room in which to meet him - this room, where he'd learned he would give up on the piano, where he was told he would pursue a business major in college-- where he met all five of his marriage prospects for the first time, dressed formally in two layers of kimono, hakama, the haori bearing the Yunoki family crest. It branded his back between the shoulder-blades like a nail hammered between his vertebrae.
"It was a mistake to let you enroll in Seisou," she said, finally. Her voice brought a chill prickling to his skin. "However-- the family made allowances for your wishes, and will not make any more."
Azuma's fingers hurt. His knuckles stood out white through his skin, strained, his hands clenched on his knees. The lip of the table hid it, but he knew she saw the tension in his arms because his shoulders felt stiff and hunched, though a glance at his reflection on the surface of his tea revealed he hadn't lost his composure to that extent - yet.
A cold breeze breathed upon the nape of his neck, washing in through the open doors. The sun was setting outside, but the orange and gold glow only highlighted the darkness of the room, rather than lending light. "The University of Tokyo has one of the best business and multimedia--"
"Enough," she said. "You will enter Gakushuin."
A bitter taste coated his tongue. He swallowed hard. His nails bit into his palms, but he rose, bowed, and left.
.
(15 minutes, 347 words)
.....
Prompt: interrupted
She looked lovely in his sister's kimono, though one couldn't say she appeared natural; her back was too stiff, the sleeves got in her way - or so it seemed every time she reached for something and shook them out. Azuma caught her wrist when she reached for her tea and moved to tug the sleeve back for the umpteenth time. "Like this," he said, releasing her, and demonstrated-- fold the length back with two fingers, turn the hand just so.
"I don't wear these very often," Kahoko said, doing as he did, then averting her eyes. "Just... holidays."
Hmmm. He watched her sip, noted the way her eyes fluttered closed so she could inhale the steam. Miyabi's green silk made Kahoko's red hair vivid and bright, like a candle flame. "I would say I envy you, but we've always worn traditional clothing here at home, so don't mind it. I don't think my grandmother has worn western-style clothes even once."
Kahoko peered up at him through her bangs, resting her cup too carefully on the table. Her fingers traced the lip. "It's hard to imagine."
"I would have said the same of you in kimono," Azuma said, reaching again for her wrist. It jerked in his grip, and he saw red flush her cheeks, but she knew better than to pull away. He was stronger-- if she needed another demonstration, he could have her sprawled over the table and undressed in the time it would take a servant to hear her screams. "I was sure you lacked the grace to walk in one. This is a nice surprise."
"Yunoki!" Now her cheeks blazed and her mouth set in a dark frown-- until she jerked her chin aside, looked away. Typical, she muttered. Her frown deepened when he chuckled. "If only they knew-- your fan club."
Azuma lifted her wrist to his lips, watched her eyes widen when he kissed the delicate underside, where the skin was pale and soft and her veins traced a pattern in faint blue and purple. Her pulse jumped beneath his lips. He smiled. If only they knew.
The shoji door slid open, hitting the frame with a snap. His hand tightened around her wrist until the skin turned pink. Above the incline of Kahoko's thumb he saw his grandmother's narrowed eyes and the sharp downturn of her mouth.
.
(Fifteen minutes, 411 words)
.....
Prompt: translation
"Where did I go wrong?"
Azuma looked at Hihara's test - the big, red 15% at the top of the page, the slashes through his messy writing - and glanced over at his friend, watched him run his hands into his hair and leave it sticking up in spikes. "Did you study?"
"Of course I did!" Hihara threw himself back in his chair, pulled his legs up from under the desk. "For at least an hour yesterday." Late afternoon sun slanted through the classroom windows, yellow tinged with red and orange, showing all of the nicks and scratches in the varnish on his desk. His papers were stuck messily into the cubby underneath. "I think maybe the day before that, too."
It was difficult not to roll his eyes. There were still girls talking behind them, whispering; the teacher had left, but the class monitor was still at the chalkboard handing out papers, and talking echoed from the hallway. Azuma pulled his chair over to Hihara's desk and sat down again. "That isn't enough with English. If you want to get into Tokyo University, you're going to have to work harder in this class, Hihara."
He ruffled his hair again. Azuma's hands twitched. "I know, I know," Hihara said, his head falling back. He stared at the ceiling. "It's just, she..."
The paper creased and crackled in Azuma's grip. He placed it on the desk and smoothed it out. "Ka-- Hino would tell you the same thing." He skimmed the paper, and read a sentence out loud in English: "Matoko went on a date with Michael's rival yesterday. It must have been hard on him." He watched Hihara frown at the ceiling, waited; the clock ticked by ten seconds before Azuma said, "It isn't that hard, Hihara - come on."
Hihara took a deep breath and sighed like it was the worst thing he had ever heard. "Depressing."
Azuma laughed. He covered his mouth when he saw gazes slanting over in their direction and cleared his throat.
Yes. It was depressing.
Knowing Kahoko, she wouldn't have even called that outing with Tsukimori a date.
.
(Fourteen minutes, 371 words)
.....
Prompt: impatience
"Do you have any sense of time at all?" Azuma asked, stepping in front of Kahoko as soon as the door to the roof opened to shine sunlight on her red hair. "And--" He noted her school uniform, the top buttons undone, the messy creases of her skirt, "--I told you to change."
"It's too tight," she said, stamping her foot. The handle of her violin case creaked, and the shopping bag containing her dress swung and crackled against her leg. Wind ruffled the short pleats of her skirt. "I couldn't even zip it up in back - I can't reach that far!"
Azuma rolled his eyes, grabbed her shoulder. "Then come on." He ignored her squeak and pulled the door open again to shove her through. Their time was limited; Tokyo was two hours away without traffic, and at this time of day, they would no doubt run into the worst of the freeway jams. He should have gone alone - he really should have, but-- how boring. "If you trip," he said when Kahoko tried to jerk out of his grip and tipped on the edge of a stair, "I'll let you fall."
She glared, muttering that he was a jerk, and he lifted his eyebrow. "I'm not letting you help me."
Their steps echoed in the stairwell. The ambient sound almost drowned her answer out. "I didn't offer to help you change." Azuma held her by the arm until she steadied herself and let her lead the way downstairs. Her dress still smelled like the store he'd purchased it from, something like perfume, sweet, but with a bitter undertone. It was a shame he hadn't considered some kind of oil - something he could dab behind her ears, something subtle that only he would notice when he pressed his nose into her hair, perhaps during a dance. "You can change into the dress yourself. I'll zip it up."
When they pushed the first floor door open and walked into the florescent light, he saw her ears tinting pink, and watched from behind as the color spread to her throat, and even to the nape of her neck. His lips wanted to twitch up. Instead he steered her to the bathrooms and told her to get in and hurry up - the party started at nine, and if she made him late, she would pay. Kahoko tossed her hair back and shoved the door open harder than really necessary. Azuma leaned against the wall and listened to the tick of the wall clock.
One minute. Two. Three.
Ten.
He was about to knock when the latch opened and she stepped out, arms twisted back to hold the dress closed. Her cheeks still burned; she refused to look at him, but he couldn't help looking at her - the store assistant had said the dress was meant to have a snug fit, but to see it cling to her shoulders-- her hips, where the widened and curved out, her breasts, the tips showing slighty through--
Azuma jerked her around by the shoulders and pulled the zipper up. "Get your things," he said, and gave her a push toward the door, turned his back on her, tried to ignore the lurching beat of his heart against his ribs. The click of the bathroom door echoed in his ears.
.
(Seventeen minutes, 576 words)
...
Gakushuin is a high-profile private school attended by the Japanese peerage and others of high social standing. It's been around since the Meiji period as a primary/secondary school, but I think the university is newer.
15minuteficlets run. :D These redefine the meaning of 'unpolished' and 'craptastic,' but I like to use these prompts to learn how to write new characters. These ficlets usually suck, but in today's case I might actually use some of the details later. And... I don't want something to get overwritten again, dammit.For those that don't know, the point of that community was to force you to write for fifteen minutes only, without editing or nitpicking. As you can imagine, this produces scary stuff.
So.
Don't read them.
Series: La Corda D'Oro
Characters: Yunoki Azuma (focus), Hino Kahoko, Hihara Kazuki
Words: 1705, total
......
Prompt: stretched
His grandmother knew the power of silence, and Azuma felt his mask stretch as the minutes ticked by, knew she meant him to feel the strain, yet couldn't convince his shoulders to straighten or his muscles to relax. He rested his gaze on the bright green of his tea, untouched, a clear, strong, loud color in that dark room, where the cypress wall panels and hard wood floors kept the space dark even when the overhead lamp was on. How telling, really, that his grandmother chose this room in which to meet him - this room, where he'd learned he would give up on the piano, where he was told he would pursue a business major in college-- where he met all five of his marriage prospects for the first time, dressed formally in two layers of kimono, hakama, the haori bearing the Yunoki family crest. It branded his back between the shoulder-blades like a nail hammered between his vertebrae.
"It was a mistake to let you enroll in Seisou," she said, finally. Her voice brought a chill prickling to his skin. "However-- the family made allowances for your wishes, and will not make any more."
Azuma's fingers hurt. His knuckles stood out white through his skin, strained, his hands clenched on his knees. The lip of the table hid it, but he knew she saw the tension in his arms because his shoulders felt stiff and hunched, though a glance at his reflection on the surface of his tea revealed he hadn't lost his composure to that extent - yet.
A cold breeze breathed upon the nape of his neck, washing in through the open doors. The sun was setting outside, but the orange and gold glow only highlighted the darkness of the room, rather than lending light. "The University of Tokyo has one of the best business and multimedia--"
"Enough," she said. "You will enter Gakushuin."
A bitter taste coated his tongue. He swallowed hard. His nails bit into his palms, but he rose, bowed, and left.
.
(15 minutes, 347 words)
.....
Prompt: interrupted
She looked lovely in his sister's kimono, though one couldn't say she appeared natural; her back was too stiff, the sleeves got in her way - or so it seemed every time she reached for something and shook them out. Azuma caught her wrist when she reached for her tea and moved to tug the sleeve back for the umpteenth time. "Like this," he said, releasing her, and demonstrated-- fold the length back with two fingers, turn the hand just so.
"I don't wear these very often," Kahoko said, doing as he did, then averting her eyes. "Just... holidays."
Hmmm. He watched her sip, noted the way her eyes fluttered closed so she could inhale the steam. Miyabi's green silk made Kahoko's red hair vivid and bright, like a candle flame. "I would say I envy you, but we've always worn traditional clothing here at home, so don't mind it. I don't think my grandmother has worn western-style clothes even once."
Kahoko peered up at him through her bangs, resting her cup too carefully on the table. Her fingers traced the lip. "It's hard to imagine."
"I would have said the same of you in kimono," Azuma said, reaching again for her wrist. It jerked in his grip, and he saw red flush her cheeks, but she knew better than to pull away. He was stronger-- if she needed another demonstration, he could have her sprawled over the table and undressed in the time it would take a servant to hear her screams. "I was sure you lacked the grace to walk in one. This is a nice surprise."
"Yunoki!" Now her cheeks blazed and her mouth set in a dark frown-- until she jerked her chin aside, looked away. Typical, she muttered. Her frown deepened when he chuckled. "If only they knew-- your fan club."
Azuma lifted her wrist to his lips, watched her eyes widen when he kissed the delicate underside, where the skin was pale and soft and her veins traced a pattern in faint blue and purple. Her pulse jumped beneath his lips. He smiled. If only they knew.
The shoji door slid open, hitting the frame with a snap. His hand tightened around her wrist until the skin turned pink. Above the incline of Kahoko's thumb he saw his grandmother's narrowed eyes and the sharp downturn of her mouth.
.
(Fifteen minutes, 411 words)
.....
Prompt: translation
"Where did I go wrong?"
Azuma looked at Hihara's test - the big, red 15% at the top of the page, the slashes through his messy writing - and glanced over at his friend, watched him run his hands into his hair and leave it sticking up in spikes. "Did you study?"
"Of course I did!" Hihara threw himself back in his chair, pulled his legs up from under the desk. "For at least an hour yesterday." Late afternoon sun slanted through the classroom windows, yellow tinged with red and orange, showing all of the nicks and scratches in the varnish on his desk. His papers were stuck messily into the cubby underneath. "I think maybe the day before that, too."
It was difficult not to roll his eyes. There were still girls talking behind them, whispering; the teacher had left, but the class monitor was still at the chalkboard handing out papers, and talking echoed from the hallway. Azuma pulled his chair over to Hihara's desk and sat down again. "That isn't enough with English. If you want to get into Tokyo University, you're going to have to work harder in this class, Hihara."
He ruffled his hair again. Azuma's hands twitched. "I know, I know," Hihara said, his head falling back. He stared at the ceiling. "It's just, she..."
The paper creased and crackled in Azuma's grip. He placed it on the desk and smoothed it out. "Ka-- Hino would tell you the same thing." He skimmed the paper, and read a sentence out loud in English: "Matoko went on a date with Michael's rival yesterday. It must have been hard on him." He watched Hihara frown at the ceiling, waited; the clock ticked by ten seconds before Azuma said, "It isn't that hard, Hihara - come on."
Hihara took a deep breath and sighed like it was the worst thing he had ever heard. "Depressing."
Azuma laughed. He covered his mouth when he saw gazes slanting over in their direction and cleared his throat.
Yes. It was depressing.
Knowing Kahoko, she wouldn't have even called that outing with Tsukimori a date.
.
(Fourteen minutes, 371 words)
.....
Prompt: impatience
"Do you have any sense of time at all?" Azuma asked, stepping in front of Kahoko as soon as the door to the roof opened to shine sunlight on her red hair. "And--" He noted her school uniform, the top buttons undone, the messy creases of her skirt, "--I told you to change."
"It's too tight," she said, stamping her foot. The handle of her violin case creaked, and the shopping bag containing her dress swung and crackled against her leg. Wind ruffled the short pleats of her skirt. "I couldn't even zip it up in back - I can't reach that far!"
Azuma rolled his eyes, grabbed her shoulder. "Then come on." He ignored her squeak and pulled the door open again to shove her through. Their time was limited; Tokyo was two hours away without traffic, and at this time of day, they would no doubt run into the worst of the freeway jams. He should have gone alone - he really should have, but-- how boring. "If you trip," he said when Kahoko tried to jerk out of his grip and tipped on the edge of a stair, "I'll let you fall."
She glared, muttering that he was a jerk, and he lifted his eyebrow. "I'm not letting you help me."
Their steps echoed in the stairwell. The ambient sound almost drowned her answer out. "I didn't offer to help you change." Azuma held her by the arm until she steadied herself and let her lead the way downstairs. Her dress still smelled like the store he'd purchased it from, something like perfume, sweet, but with a bitter undertone. It was a shame he hadn't considered some kind of oil - something he could dab behind her ears, something subtle that only he would notice when he pressed his nose into her hair, perhaps during a dance. "You can change into the dress yourself. I'll zip it up."
When they pushed the first floor door open and walked into the florescent light, he saw her ears tinting pink, and watched from behind as the color spread to her throat, and even to the nape of her neck. His lips wanted to twitch up. Instead he steered her to the bathrooms and told her to get in and hurry up - the party started at nine, and if she made him late, she would pay. Kahoko tossed her hair back and shoved the door open harder than really necessary. Azuma leaned against the wall and listened to the tick of the wall clock.
One minute. Two. Three.
Ten.
He was about to knock when the latch opened and she stepped out, arms twisted back to hold the dress closed. Her cheeks still burned; she refused to look at him, but he couldn't help looking at her - the store assistant had said the dress was meant to have a snug fit, but to see it cling to her shoulders-- her hips, where the widened and curved out, her breasts, the tips showing slighty through--
Azuma jerked her around by the shoulders and pulled the zipper up. "Get your things," he said, and gave her a push toward the door, turned his back on her, tried to ignore the lurching beat of his heart against his ribs. The click of the bathroom door echoed in his ears.
.
(Seventeen minutes, 576 words)
...
Gakushuin is a high-profile private school attended by the Japanese peerage and others of high social standing. It's been around since the Meiji period as a primary/secondary school, but I think the university is newer.
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no subject
Date: 2010-02-19 12:47 pm (UTC)1. The handle of her violin case creaked, and the shopping bag containing her dress swung and crackled against her leg.
Little details like this do make or break how vivid a story is for me. It may be safe to assume that a plastic bag would crackle, it doesn't hurt to mention it.
2. Her dress still smelled like the store he'd purchased it from, something like perfume, sweet, but with a bitter undertone.
The "sweet, but with a bitter undertone" description, while literally applying to the dress in question actually serves as a nice commentary as to their relationship. She's sweet but bitter about being with him, and he's generally bitter, but enjoys time with her in spite of himself. Perhaps he thinks she's sweet enough to eat? It's not too much of a stretch, considering he manhandles her at the end to keep up his appearances of being calm and in control.
3. The click of the bathroom door echoed in his ears.
It may be a stretch, but for me, the click of the bathroom door represents the door to his composure closing. He can't un-ring the bell of arousal. No matter *what* she smells like tonight, it's going to take everything he's got to not dwell on what her body looks like in that dress. I think it's funny that he put himself into that situation by choosing the dress in the first place.
One comment on the "interrupted" prompt:
He was stronger-- if she needed another demonstration, he could have her sprawled over the table and undressed in the time it would take a servant to hear her screams.
It's really a nice image, but the first thing that popped into my mind was, "no wait... when did he have her sprawled over the table and undressed before?" :D It's okay to fangirl. That's what fanfic is for. The second thought I had after reading that was "Please and thank you?"
Not fair for Kahoko, true, but if they made out it would have to be rough around the edges. That's kinda hot when it's done right. Not everything is flowers and sunshine in the real world, after all.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-21 10:53 pm (UTC)It's not that he HAS done it before, but that he's thinking about giving it a try. XD The wording is slightly unclear, but that's what you get for racing on a fifteen minute deadline, right. What I was referring to with 'if she needed another demonstration' was just one of the many times he man-handled her in the manga/anime before the theoretical time this ficbit takes place - pushing her against the wall, yanking her into a car, pinning her on the bed in the nurse's office, etc.
His composure is certainly shot. It's a good thing there aren't any windows in his car between the front and back seat, or he could slip some more man-handling past his chauffer. XD
Wow!
Date: 2010-03-06 07:51 am (UTC)I'll be reading if you write more of these! I'm a fan of Azuma-Kaho.
Re: Wow!
Date: 2010-03-06 07:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-15 01:35 pm (UTC)He was stronger-- if she needed another demonstration, he could have her sprawled over the table and undressed in the time it would take a servant to hear her screams.
This is really really good.
And the 4th one:
He was about to knock when the latch opened and she stepped out, arms twisted back to hold the dress closed. Her cheeks still burned; she refused to look at him, but he couldn't help looking at her - the store assistant had said the dress was meant to have a snug fit, but to see it cling to her shoulders-- her hips, where the widened and curved out, her breasts, the tips showing slighty through--
Azuma jerked her around by the shoulders and pulled the zipper up. "Get your things," he said, and gave her a push toward the door, turned his back on her, tried to ignore the lurching beat of his heart against his ribs. The click of the bathroom door echoed in his ears.
Loved ever one of 'em. ;D
great job! ^^
no subject
Date: 2010-04-16 07:58 am (UTC)