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AKB48 Fanfics => AKB48 Fanfics => Topic started by: gekikarabuACE on January 24, 2012, 05:51:51 PM

Title: Catch & Release: Hard Definitions (WMatsui/NatsuMado drabbles)
Post by: gekikarabuACE on January 24, 2012, 05:51:51 PM
Catch & Release: One-shots Collection
Blackbird (WMatsui)
People of the Lie (
Pastime (WMatsui) (
Hard Definitions (NatsuMado/WMatsui) (

Hi everyone, it's me~! Lol! You might have seen me somewhere around here leaving little comments here and there. Anyway, I just wanted to drop this off here. It's a one-shot I wrote about a year ago for a different fandom. I thought I'd tweak it a bit and see how it looks like with WMatsui. And if I should resume writing fics like I did back then.


It really shouldn’t mean much.

They were absentee parents most of the time, anyway.

It isn’t exactly her first time to be cast aside like some useless afterthought, but she really thought that the circumstances would merit something more than a bouquet of flowers with a trite ‘get-well-soon’ card (coming straight from that odiously cheerful delivery guy knocking on her door). She would have expected, at the very least, a brief personal appearance on their part, just like that time she told them the news of her scholarship, or that time she graduated at the top of her class, or that time she had her first art exhibit.

Or even that time when she accidentally poisoned the family dog.

She was expecting at least that, but this…

This is just so… lame.

Apparently, this time can’t even be ranked as the same (it’s pathetic how a sick dog even ranks higher than this). And if it isn’t enough that they’re leaving their now broken daughter under the care of complete strangers, they had to tell her so in the form of a measly-worded letter. (She doesn’t see the words yet she feels them stabbing her just the same, and if that doesn’t rub salt into her already gaping wound, she thinks nothing ever will).

She prides herself as one strong and resilient girl, but when life stacks the odds so up high, she thinks she’s had enough.

Anyone would.

So when the paper crumples helplessly under her shaking fists, gets torn into odd little pieces, and then thrown blindly into the wind, no one is really surprised. She finds it almost offensive, the way everyone drowns her with a barrage of empty encouragement, and it takes much screaming and glaring from her part before they finally leave her be (though how the nurse falls for that is really beyond her).

She can’t see, she can’t feel, she can’t hear. She tunes out the rest of the world (just like what the world has done to her) and everything blends into one depressingly dark sight.

“You’re not really thinking about jumping down from there, are you?”

The voice comes out of nowhere and it startles her enough to make her heart tumble slightly (but not enough to trip her feet). She shuts her eyes tightly, steadies herself for a brief moment, and then continues on to take a few more shuffled steps. When her foot hits the ledge, she takes one deep breath and – 

“What? Are you deaf, as well?”

“Mind your own business, damn it!” she eventually half-shrieks in frustration, abandoning whatever plans she had on being discreet.  Her head whips violently towards the intruder. She takes notice of the faint echoes of music (a guitar, perhaps?) for the first time, and it irritates her even more so. “And just leave me alone!”

“Suit yourself. But just so you know, that fish pond you’re standing on the edge of isn’t even knee-deep. I doubt you’ll be able to do anything other than get yourself wet.”

That one completely freezes her on the spot.

“Your nurse brought you down to the botanical garden, here in the ground floor, if that’s what you’re thinking,” the voice nonchalantly adds, as if reading her thoughts.

(She really should have known better; no one gets intimidated by a non-existent glare.)

“Nurses here aren’t stupid as to take a blind person like you to the green roof garden and leave you there.”

Her shoulders slumps forward.

The whole plan goes crashing down after that.


It takes around a week for her to learn the girl’s name; the same amount of time it takes for them to take her bandages away.

“Oi,” she carelessly calls out to that someone who is surely lounging around the garden grounds somewhere. “You… person.”

“My name is not ‘oi’, or ‘person’; it’s Rena. How many more times do I have to say my name for you to remember it, Jurina?”

“I don’t care. Rena, or whatever it is you call yourself,” Jurina lazily retorts. She plays around mindlessly with the wheelchair her nurse insists that she takes, pushing herself slightly back and forth until her arms tire out.

“I’m older than you, you know. You’re only what, eighteen? Nineteen?”


“That young…?” The voice pensively trails off.

“Whatever. For all I know, you could be an escaped psych patient waiting for a chance to chop me into parts, or worse yet, a non-existent figure that is only a figment of my overactive imagination.”

“Actually, I’m neither. I’m an earthbound ghost, cursed to haunt and annoy obnoxious patients like you forever.” Rena finishes it off with a maniacal laugh. She strums the strings loudly for a dramatic effect. “Say, are you mad?”

“Tch.” Jurina dismisses her childish antics with an irritated snort. “Don’t you have anything better to do that to hang out here in the hospital and fool around with that guitar of yours?”

“No, I don’t,” she answers a little too lightly. “What about you? Don’t you have anything better to do than to sit here in the garden all day and wallow in that never-ending pity party of yours?”

The flippant comment unexpectedly barrels through Jurina’s fragile pride (or what’s left of it) like a two-ton truck and hits her smack dab in the face. Her hands curl into tight fists as she reels from the impact, because the wound it makes burns with the unmistakable truth.

“What exactly do you know? You’re not the one who’s blind and useless, are you? You didn’t get robbed of your future, did you? No? I don’t think so.” Jurina lets out a dry laugh, her words turning so bitter that she could almost taste it in her mouth. A self-conscious hand reaches up to rub her eyes and she belatedly wonders why the bandages had to come off like it did (because this is a reality she’s still not yet willing to see). “If you think it’s going to be easy for you to deal with something like this, then good for you. But I can’t live with myself knowing that all of this is true.”

Everything abruptly comes to a standstill. All the light pretenses of jest disappear into thin air, leaving only heavy silence.

Rena takes a moment to answer, and when she does, Jurina strains to catch her fleeting whisper.

“You can. You just don’t know how.”

She thinks it’ll definitely take her more than a week to learn that.


They don’t really talk to each other after that little incident, although that didn’t stop either of them from hanging out in the same garden with each other. Surprisingly, Jurina starts finding Rena’s constant presence strangely comforting and her melancholic music pleasantly soothing.

“Hey, Rena-chan…” Jurina meekly interrupts her music during one those instances, directly addressing her unseen company for the first time (in a long time). It feels a bit weird, and not to mention awkward, but she thinks it’s about time she breaks the cold war they’ve been waging against each other. “Is that the only song you know how to play?”


Or maybe that’s just her. Rena certainly sounds just as cheerful as when Jurina first heard her, with no trace of veiled hostility or awkwardness in her voice whatsoever.

“I asked if that’s the one you know how to play.” Her head turns slightly in the direction of Rena’s music (or at least, where she thinks it is) and repeats herself, a little more confidently, this time around. “I always hear you singing that same song whenever you’re here.”

“Oh, that. No, I do know how to play other songs. But this one is the first song I learned to play with this guitar, and it’s also my favorite.” Rena easily explains while she lightly plucks out the familiar chords. The music pauses briefly and she asks, “Do you want me play a different one instead?”

“No, that’s fine. Keep playing it.” Jurina finds herself leisurely bobbing her head with the beat when Rena does continue. A rare smile tugs on the corner of her lips as she mumbles to herself,

“I like the way it sounds, actually.”

(Like a much-needed salve to her tender and aching heart.)


Rena doesn’t really tell Jurina anything about herself, other than the fact that her mother works as a nurse at the hospital, and that she lives with her somewhere nearby.

Not that Jurina minds, though, because Rena’s keen sense of curiosity piques her own, and when the two of them spend their time together, they seem to keep each other’s curiosity well-satisfied.

“Eh? Rena-chan, you haven’t forgotten that I’m blind, right?” Jurina asks dryly when she feels two soft hands wrapping itself over her eyes (she would’ve given Rena an eye roll, too, if she actually could).  “There’s no need to keep my eyes covered.”

“It’s because you keep on searching things with them when I told you not to,” the girl playfully whines. Rena’s honeyed voice floats somewhere behind her left ear, and she’s standing close enough for Jurina to feel her breath tickle her bare skin. “You should really learn how to appreciate the little things, instead. Now, what do you hear?”

“The annoying sound of your breathing?” She easily shoots back. Jurina struggles briefly to pry Rena’s hands off her eyes, but after a few seconds of trying, she ends up giving in with a sigh. “I don’t know. What am I supposed to hear?”

“Just listen,” Rena insists. “Don’t you hear that?”

“Hear what? There’s nothing there except…” Jurina lets herself be immersed in the moment as she tries to catch whatever it is that the older girl is trying to point out.

“...the birds…”


“…the bees…”


“…the flowers and the trees?”

Rena pinches her cheeks lightly. “Smartass. Pay attention and listen carefully.”

Jurina chuckles from her own joke, and though she means her words to be taken lightly, the music she hears really does paint the picture of spring – from the gentle rustling of twigs and leaves, to the symphony of melodious twits and peeps. If she tries even harder, Jurina thinks she can even hear the distant sound of merry little children playing and laughing in a field.

Wait. What?

“Is there a school nearby?” She snaps into attention and listens some more. Amazingly, she really is hearing things right.

“The kids usually have their PE class this time of the day,” Rena triumphantly confirms when Jurina eventually gets it correct. “Sometimes they do exercises, but most times they just play around. Sounds really fun, ne?”

“It sounds like they’re having a blast.” Flashes of her own short childhood flood Jurina’s mind, and the unforgettable memories of her those spring days bring a pleasant surprise. Her mouth twists into an unmistakable smile. “How was your childhood like? Did you lug around that guitar of yours even when you were a kid? Or were you someone who was actually cool? Like the queen of Phys. Ed or something.”

“Actually, I was home-schooled most of my life. But I’m sure it would have been fun, playing dodge ball and all those other stuff,” the other girl casually replies. Jurina’s eyebrows knot together when her own arms suddenly start flailing around. “Do you still remember how to do it?”

She pulls her arms away from Rena’s grasp and tries to swipe at the girl’s head (it fails). Rena just giggles off her futile attempt.

“Of course I do. It hasn’t been that long since I was an elementary student. Wait, you were home-schooled? I would have thought – ” Jurina cuts herself off when she hears the slightest breathe of movement. Her hand darts out from nowhere and surprisingly catches Rena’s arm with it. “Rena-chan? You’re not leaving me alone here, are you?”

“No, not just yet. My foot just fell asleep.” The girl reassuringly squeezes her hand with small laugh. “I didn’t know you studied in America. What was it like?” 




“What does this garden look like?” Jurina asks out of the blue.

She’s sitting against a massive tree trunk, legs stretched out in front of her, while Rena is settled somewhere on the other side of their favorite shady tree (Rena tells her it’s oak). It’s become a common routine for them during warm and lazy afternoons, when they’re both feeling too tired and too hot to move about and Rena is actually out of hospital exploits to expound.

Jurina shifts from her current position when an odd knob digs uncomfortably in her back.

“I’ve been spending so much time here for a few weeks now, but I still have no idea what this garden looks like. Is it really beautiful?”

The music stops playing as Rena stops humming a very familiar tune, and with that lilting voice of hers, Rena throws the question back at her, “What do you think? Can’t you guess?”

“Life is going to be one big guessing game with you, isn’t it?” She observes defeatedly. “Just go ahead and play your guitar or something, then.”

“Always the cynical one. Why is it that you always seem to find it hard to trust yourself? It’s not going to be that hard for you to guess.” Rena clucks her tongue at her. The instrument gently hits the ground with a hollow thud. “Here, I’ll help you.”

Jurina stumbles lightly when Rena pulls her to her feet. It’s one tentative step after another, but Rena’s firm hold on her arm calms and steadies her. She lets herself be freely guided as they stroll along the cobblestoned path.

They stop a few moments after.

“Did you know? Every flower has a hidden meaning behind them,” the other girl starts. “People barely remember this age-old art form anymore, but it does exist.

“Takes these sweet peas for example.” Jurina hears a faint sound of twigs breaking, and seconds later she feels a stem of flower being pressed softly on her palm. With Rena’s help, she brings the flower closer to her face, just enough for her to breathe in its sweet and sensuous scent. “In the language of flowers, sweet peas mean blissful or lasting pleasure. Some other times, it’s also used to say ‘goodbye’.”   

Rena pauses and then laughs lightly. “That’s one sweet goodbye though, isn’t it?”

She bobs her head in agreement.

The girl gently nudges her forward and they resume walking down the short winding trail.

One by one, Rena enthusiastically explains each flower they encounter along the way. While she does, Jurina grins from ear to ear, all giddy from excitement (because Rena just gave her back her precious painter’s palette and now she’s completely free to brush and shade and paint her otherwise black canvas of an environment).

“These exuberant azaleas stand for love, romance and sometimes, first love. The Chinese actually use it as the symbol of womanhood and femininity.

“Those delicate freesias, on the other hand, mean innocence and friendship.

“The striking and colorful gladiolus flower symbolizes strength of character, infatuation, or sometimes, remembrance.

“Purple lilacs, like this one, symbolize the first emotions of love, and to many, lilacs are considered to be harbingers of spring.”

Their short trip winds down and in no time, Rena is leading her back to their initial spot.

“And last, but certainly not the least,” Rena suddenly declares, just as Jurina plops down and once again settles against the tree trunk. This time, it takes Rena more than a few seconds to speak, and when she does, a small bouquet of flowers simultaneously falls in Jurina’s lap.

“Lily of the valley. This small and simple flower means the return of happiness.” The other girl sidles and takes a seat right alongside her. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, these flowers are growing near your favorite spot.”

With an appreciative smile, Jurina fiddles with its petals and nods her head.

“So, what do you think?”

“I didn’t expect this garden to be as beautiful as this,” she readily admits, head lolling sideward to rest on Rena’s shoulder. In turn, Rena rests her own head on top of hers. “I bet it’s just as amazing as that one in Shizuoka.”

“Is it, really?” The vibration from Rena’s voice tickles her.

“You haven’t been there?”

Rena shakes her head lightly. “My mother gets lonely too easily, and I’m always afraid of leaving her alone. I’m all that she’s got.”

The words all come out casually but Jurina swears she can hear the faintest traces of sadness seeping from the girl’s voice.

“What’s the garden there like?”

“Well, their flower garden has a larger variety of flowers compared to here. I mean, it’s a national park and all.” She taps her chin thoughtfully as she racks her brain for the picture.

“And unlike the fish pond we have right here, they have a small lake there instead.” The images start to flood in and Jurina quickly finds herself caught in its pleasant memories. “They also have a hiking trail, which I even got lost in, once. Our stupid dog ran off-trail and had me chasing after him deeper into the forest. Took me an hour to figure my way back.” 

For the next hour or so, Jurina regales Rena with her own stories about the Hamamatsu Flower Park, the Ashikaga Flower Park, the Tottori Hanakairo Flower Park, and all the other flower parks she has been to in her short life. It’s nothing really special, just a few stories about the little school trips she participated in back when she was still an actual – prodigious - painter (and not just an imaginary one). But Rena’s enthusiasm infects her, and Jurina can’t help but be swept with her own stories as well.

“Sugoi~!” Rena marvels enviously when Jurina finishes. “It sounds really beautiful. I wish I could also go and visit those places someday.”

“You and I should definitely visit at least one of those gardens in the future. Maybe we’ll start with the one in Hokkaido, then work our way south, towards Fukuoka,” Jurina thoughtfully suggests, mind already teeming with the possibilities concerning their hypothetical open-ended quest. She excitedly drums her fingers, which up until now, have been playing with Rena’s own. “And when we’re there, you have to tell me what each and every flower means, alright?”

The other girl intertwines their hands. “That sounds really nice.”

(Once in a while, it crosses Jurina’s mind that Rena may not be as free as she thinks the girl is.)


It’s not like they can even do anything much, considering that Jurina is still blind as a bat and the place is just but a garden.

So on the rare cool nights that they spend with each other, when the crickets and fireflies have all come out to cheerfully play, they sit in silence under the sparkling moon and stars, basking in the moment’s tranquility instead (it doesn’t always sound convincing but she’s a bit of a romantic, so even though she doesn’t see it, in her mind that’s how she paints it). 

“I want to see your face.”

Jurina breaks the silence of one such evening. Her hands each plant itself firmly beside her as she leans slightly forward, head tipping up to face her starry, starry sky. 

“Why? You still think I’m just a ghost or figment of your imagination after all this time?” Rena kiddingly asks with an exasperated sigh.

“No, silly. I really just want to see your face,” she earnestly insists. “Just because.”

’Just because’? What are you, twelve?” The other girl snorts.

“Close enough. I’m fifteen, remember?”

“Eh, you know what I mean.”

“Rena-chaaan~” She drags out her name sweetly, hoping it’ll be enough to persuade the older girl.

“You’re going to have to say something better than that, or else I’m really going to think you don’t believe me.”

“Alright, fine.” Jurina pouts a little about her failed attempt but nevertheless, she continues on. “Well, it’s just that, somehow, I’ve been thinking…” She pauses, thoughtfully scratching her head as she contemplates on her answer. “We’ve known each other for quite some time now, but I still haven’t seen your face. I’m really curious as to what you actually look like.”

“Does it really matter?” Rena questions pensively.

“Of course it does. I want to know what kind of face a person like you have. Besides, I think it’s only fair.”

“Fair? Fair what? I didn’t know this was some kind of a game.”

“Matsui Rena-san, just because I’m blind, it doesn’t mean I don’t feel you staring at me all the time. Fair is only fair.”

“I think I’ve taught you too much,” the girl regretfully expresses. With a faint smile threatening to overcome her face, Jurina wordlessly notes the utter lack of denial on the other girl’s part.

“No, you’ve taught me just enough.” She waves her over. “Come on, Rena-chan.”

“Seriously? But what’s the point? I can’t even compare to you.”

A warm feeling spreads in her cheeks (and in her chest) and Jurina is sure she’s blushing. She waves the embarrassment off with a few flicks of her wrist. “Just let me be the judge of that. Now come closer and let me see.”

Rena laughs her off but ultimately, she relents, moving in closer to her that their legs and knees completely touch.

Taking both Jurina’s hands in hers, Rena slowly guides them until they touch her face. For the longest time, Jurina doesn’t take a breath as she runs her dainty fingers along Rena’s cool and smooth skin, gently making out the shape of her nose, the depth of her eyes, and the fullness of her lips. 

The other girl covers Jurina’s hands on her face with her own. Jurina literally feels the moment when Rena cracks a smile. “How is it?”

“It’s just as I thought.”

She breaks into a (self-satisfied) smile herself.

“A pure and angelic voice like yours could only belong to a beautiful person such as yourself.”

Times like these are when Jurina briefly forgets all the feelings of regret for ever having to figure in that life-changing accident.


She knows they’ve always had it coming – every ‘hello’ always comes with a ‘goodbye’. But when theirs approaches inevitably, Jurina stubbornly decides she isn’t ready to say the word just yet.

The next time they sit in that wooden bench, the rest of the world stays unobtrusively quiet (and if she doesn’t know any better, she would think they’re all trying to listen in).

“I think I’m going to be leaving soon,” Jurina opens without so much as a preamble. The air surrounding them is decidedly somber, not even a peep coming from their usual companions during the nights. “I can’t stay here in the hospital forever. They say they’ve found a possible donor for me, and I might be getting the operation real soon. In a week’s time, maybe.”

“That’s good news, right?” Even Rena’s voice sounds positively weak. “Aren’t you happy? The next time they take off your bandages again, you’ll finally be able to see.”

“I am happy,” she replies, although she sounds anything but. “It’s just that… I’m kind of getting used to this already.”


Jurina hems and haws for a second, fingers fiddling absently with the edges of her shirt as she tries to come out with the other answer.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what? Of gaining what you lost?” The other girl prods perceptively. “Or losing what you gained?”

She doesn’t answer because it’s such a cruel question (like nobody should ever be asked to choose between their left and right hand). If gaining what she has lost means she’s losing what she has gained, then Jurina doesn’t think it makes any difference, and would rather not choose at all.

“Don’t be. You’ve already come this far, haven’t you?” Rena quietly reminds her. Jurina feels Rena’s cool hand cover hers and give a light squeeze. “You’re ready. Whatever it is that’s waiting for you, I think you’re ready.”

“Am I, really?”

“You’ve only been waiting for this,” is what Rena only tells her. 

“Can we still meet here, like this?” Silence briefly ensues and her breath hitches for a moment. “Rena-chan? I can still see you after, right?”

“Of course you can.” Stirrings of a soothing music drift softly around.

Jurina slips both arms around Rena’s waist, rests her chin on the girl’s shoulder, and hums along ever so softly when Rena starts singing that familiar song about the broken bird waiting for his moment to fly.

They spend the rest of their borrowed time sitting amidst the stillness of the night.

(It rains heavily the day before her operation, leaving her stranded and with nothing to do except mope around by the open window of her room. The pitter-patter of raindrops overcomes the rest of her senses, but Jurina swears she still hears the sound of Rena’s music whispering to her in her sleep.)


It takes one week, two days, and five hours for Jurina to completely gain her eyesight back.

Only now – Jurina thinks – it doesn’t matter, because she doesn’t see Rena after that particular night. Not anywhere in the garden, and certainly not in their spot; it’s as if the girl’s existence was a mere shadow in the (now non-existent) dark. (The bandages have come off but she’s still blinded just the same. If it isn’t for the fact that she can see herself while her eyes are wide open, she would have thought that the operation failed.)

It’s not until she encounters a sympathetic nurse that she finally finds the right path. Jurina doesn’t understand the rueful stares and the hushed whispers she’s getting, nor does she understand why she’s even headed to a room at the end of some hallway, as she’s directed.

But then she sees the sign, and her heart sinks with realization.

(She doesn’t want to accept it. She doesn’t think she can accept it. But this really is Rena’s cage, and nothing she can do will change that.)

There’s nothing for her to do other than brace herself.

She pushes the door open. The darkness unveils itself….

Cold and lifeless room.

Tubes snaking all over a frail-looking body.

A tired and sheepish smile.

It’s reality staring right back.

“Not as beautiful as you think, right?”

It’s almost mechanical, the way she drags her heavy feet across the room and comes closer to the bed. Rena’s grin widens a little when Jurina eventually drops down hopelessly on the empty seat.

She takes a moment to answer.


Closing her eyes, Jurina takes Rena’s hand with hers, knits them tightly together, and then gently lays her head down on Rena’s chest. Everything once again fades into nothingness (because that is their real world, and it always will be). She only hears the slow sound of her breathing, smells the sweet scent of her being, and feels the steady warmth of her heart.

“You are more than perfect.”

Jurina struggles to collect the pieces of her own heart.

“Don’t cry, Jurina. Please don’t cry for me,” Rena tells her softly, reaching out to wipe the hot tears brimming from her sorrowful eyes. “I am just as ready as you are.”

She grabs hold of Rena’s hand on her face and keeps it there.

“Because I am you, and you are me. We’re both ready for this. We’ve both been waiting for our moment, right?”

Jurina numbly nods head.

“If anything, I just feel so sorry that I can’t visit those gardens with you, like what we promised.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to.” Biting her lip, Jurina accepts Rena’s apologetic smile and returns the favor with a brave one (she falters at the last minute, but Rena doesn’t seem to mind). “But if you think you’re getting off easy, think again. You have to do something else to make up for it.”

She spies a weathered-looking guitar resting near the bedside, abandoned, and it makes it even harder for her to keep her smile.

“How about singing that favorite song of yours? I haven’t heard it in quite a while. I miss hearing you sing,” for the first time, Jurina freely admits. She thinks there’s absolutely nothing better than listening to broken birds singing in the dead of the night. “Can you sing it for me, please, Rena-chan? One last time?”

“Of course.”

Jurina tightens her hold on Rena’s hand and plants a chaste kiss on her forehead. The other girl smiles at her gratefully.

Soon enough, a melancholic music fills the air. (There’s no one left to play the guitar this time; the emptiness it leaves becomes palpable. Even though Jurina believes she isn’t capable, she still fills the void with her broken voice and sings out the familiar words herself.)

“…all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free.”

Time fleetingly passes, and no matter how much she wishes, it doesn’t really stop for either of them. (She knows she can’t stay in that place forever, and sooner or later, she does have to say goodbye.)

The room finally grows silent (for the last time).

It’s time for her to take her leave, and when she does, Jurina doesn’t even try to stifle her anguished cry. Before she completely goes, Jurina picks out every kind of flower there is from the garden just so she could have something to remember everything by (she doesn’t forget to leave the sweet peas in Rena’s bedside).

Jurina stands at the threshold and takes a deep breath.

Taking one last look back, she steps out of the hospital, takes the broken wings Rena gave her, and flies into light of the dark black night.


This one is based on song called 'Blackbird'. A couple of artists covered it, but it's originally sung by the Beatles.

Please feel free to ask questions or whatever.

Title: Re: Blackbird [WMATSUI One-shot]
Post by: kahem on January 24, 2012, 09:18:41 PM
I'm a bit confused but it's so sad T_T
Title: Re: Blackbird [WMATSUI One-shot]
Post by: RenaChii on January 24, 2012, 11:11:09 PM
un . . . so sad~ (
Title: Re: Blackbird [WMATSUI One-shot]
Post by: dukkong on January 25, 2012, 12:25:51 AM
LOL this is totally random but I feel like more and more Sones are becoming AKB fans. Well at least I'm one of them >< Still as nice as the first time I've read it.
Title: Re: Blackbird [WMATSUI One-shot]
Post by: Kiri-el on January 25, 2012, 12:58:55 AM
Unfortunately I can not express what I feel now. Too difficult... only succeed in my native language.

But this story is perfect! It's painful, but somehow... there is hope, love and life. Light in the darkness. Warmth in the cold.

Sorry if I'm too sentimental, but now I feel much. Therefore I like to read. For these feelings for.

Thank you for this fic!
Title: Re: Blackbird [WMATSUI One-shot]
Post by: gekikarabuACE on January 25, 2012, 01:31:31 AM
@kahem - Ah, sorry. I tend to be vague when I write. Basically, what happened was that Rena was there at the hospital all along because she was patient herself - a terminal one at that.

@RenaChii - I think this would the be the perfect time to come out with those angsty WMatsui fics seeing as it's pretty much dead.  :banghead: RenAirin is pretty the much all the rage nowadays.

@dukkong - Lol, you got me~!  :lol: It actually took me a year of calling myself an SNSD fan before I decided to stop lurking and sign up at their forum a few of years ago. With AKB, it took me a couple of months shorter than that. I don't really write fics anymore, but some stories are just begging to be written.

@Kiri-el - Thank you for reading my fic. I'm glad I've made you feel all the emotions I was hoping to convey when I wrote this.
Title: Re: Blackbird [WMATSUI One-shot]
Post by: SharkAttack on January 25, 2012, 02:32:45 AM
FFFFFffff- NEVER!!! I will NEVER jump ships!! *raeg*  :bleed eyes:

That was a very beautiful story, by the way. Lol
Is there a specific illness that Rena had?
Title: Re: Blackbird [WMATSUI One-shot]
Post by: ShibuyaDokiDoki on January 25, 2012, 04:17:05 AM
This story... it's just something that I can't just playfully talk about... I don't know if I'm over analyzing but it has something that I haven't seen in a while.

It makes me imagine so much lol~

It's painful yet beautiful. Something I can't quite describe... lol

Please do continue writing. I would love to read more. (O 3 O)
Title: Re: Blackbird [WMATSUI One-shot]
Post by: Sok on January 25, 2012, 05:09:20 AM
It's very sad yet beautiful. It made me wanna cry.
I hope you continue to write. 
Title: Re: Blackbird [WMATSUI One-shot]
Post by: Seigus on January 25, 2012, 09:20:31 AM
Really touching. A blossoming relationship that was never meant to last.

Your writing is beautiful with just the right amount of details and interesting interactions between Jurina and Rena. Thanks for writing this story. RenAirin may be the popular pairing now but I still love my WMatsui.

I would love to read more works from you. Please write again when inspiration hits :)
Title: Re: Blackbird [WMATSUI One-shot]
Post by: gekikarabuACE on January 27, 2012, 04:53:26 PM
@SharkAttack: Lol! Well, WMatsui's showing some signs of life these past few days, so it might not be as dead as I think. As for the specific illness, I guess somewhere along the lines of leukemia is what I had in mind.

@ShibuyaDokiDoki: I doubt you're over-analyzing things. One of my biggest fault in writing is that I never say things directly. Somehow, I always try to bury it beneath the layers and layers of metaphors that I end up confusing my readers. :)

@Sok: Thanks for reading this. The song which I based this from is actually beautifully sad/sadly beautiful as well. I guess that's where all the emotions came from.

@seigus: Ah, thanks. I'm thinking about picking up the pen again, so to speak, I'm still not completely sure.

@HashirePomeranian: Thanks for coming back to comment. :) To tell you the truth, this isn't exactly my usual style of writing. It was something I just experimented on back then. First-person perspective is a bit hard for me to do because like I've said up there, I can never say things directly. Lol! I'm more about word-plays and nuances when presenting emotions, so yeah, it gets tedious. And sometimes not everyone really understands it. Might be one of the reasons why I stopped writing.  :ph43r:
Title: Re: Blackbird [WMATSUI One-shot]
Post by: ShibuyaDokiDoki on January 28, 2012, 07:38:50 AM
Well I'm not really confused as I love to read stories like this. It gives me a wider area to imagine. I love it.

Not always telling everything straight out is what makes it interesting and unique. Please do continue writing if its not too much to ask.

I have become a fan. ♥
Title: Re: Blackbird [WMATSUI One-shot]
Post by: Megumi on January 29, 2012, 12:43:02 AM
This is great really really great OS!
Title: Re: Blackbird [WMATSUI One-shot]
Post by: gekikarabuACE on May 06, 2012, 12:22:45 PM


“The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.”

-C.S. Lewis

It doesn’t exist.

It hasn’t, for a long while now.

No one really knows how it all started, just that it did. At some point or another, they all began to deem it useless, and to some, even annoying. When they realized that anything and everything can – and will – be bought, and morality can actually be measured by the amount of spare change they could dig up in their dirty pockets, they had eagerly decided to throw it out the window. The world definitely had no need for it. It doesn’t feed you, nor will it keep you alive – not in a nasty dog-eat-dog world such as this. Human nature, after all, has always dictated the survival of the fittest.

And it was, by its own definition, nothing but a weakness.

In a place where crime and corruption drive the society, and sex, drugs, and violence are the way of life, something as pure and whimsical as that doesn’t anymore exist…

Except for the people of the lie

* * *


A world like theirs needs no room for affection.

She, herself, can attest to that.

Day in and day out, as she sifts through the bloodied mess, she sees with her own two eyes just how much these people can be ruthless.

Despicable criminals, the whole lot of them. They’re all the same. Everyone deserves whatever agonizing demise fate has coming for them. After all, she doubts if those delinquents even felt an ounce of affection when they decided to rob and kill a child’s family for measly change….

Apathy is necessary when insanity is staring right at her face.

Thank God she has mastered it down to an art.

The trial is unfair where affection is the judge.

* * *


People can live and breed without friendship.

And she has her own creative ways of knowing that.

She has seen it all.

Well, maybe not all, but still enough know that in this society, everyone is a firm subscriber of quid pro quo. They are all in it for something. Whether that person be a trophy wife of a philandering billionaire husband, or a hard-nosed associate of that insufferable, scheming executive, they all want the same thing: leverage. And leverage? Well, she can provide that…

For a fee, of course.


Nah, that doesn’t exist here. No one cares about friendship. Or trust, for that matter. It’s every man for himself around here.

The lenses do not lie.

Only people do.   

There are no real friends in this world, only real enemies.

Friendship isn’t anything but mere make-believe.

* * *


It’s not possible for people to fall in love.

Unless that person is trying to crawl his way into another person’s pants, then that might just be the case.

Pathetic, she thinks, but it’s always interesting to see the extent of what people will go to, just to bed someone.

Not true for her, though. She never did like these euphemisms everyone is so fond of using. Unlike these pretentious little prudes and pricks, she isn’t ashamed to admit that she’s purely in it for the fun.

A ‘relationship’, she truly believes, is nothing more than having an instant bedmate – someone to warm your bed until the next interesting person comes along. It’s not her fault if there’s always another interesting person sharing her bed every single night.

What was it that they always say? About loneliness always having a way of breaking even the most logical of reasonings apart?

Well, she knows a few, more thrilling ways to break that.

Love is entirely magical, and it’s only the ignorant fools who fall for such storybook illusions.

* * *


Everything in this world is beyond redemption.

She has given up all hope for any semblance of salvation a long time ago. In the end, everyone in this world is just the same.

Even her.

Theirs is a society which needs no angels, she has belatedly understood, and the only way to rid the world of its evil is to become evil herself. And now behind every sweet word and underneath her pretty face, there hides a girl who is undoubtedly just as… ugly as the rest of human race.

Oh, the irony of it all.

But what’s done is done.  She has long since accepted the fact that she’s already beyond deliverance now.

Eternal damnation only awaits her.

These days, she spends most of the time wondering when it will finally be her turn to writhe and plead as she bleeds…

Just like this guy lying face down by her feet.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

* * *

A/N: This fic is supposed to be a short series of one-shots I discarded for another fandom, which I've decided to revive here. Still not sure how this is going to turn out though, so yeah, I apologize in advance.

Fair warning:
Whatever you think this is... it's not it.  :P
Title: Re: PEOPLE of the LIE (Prologue)
Post by: Kiri-el on May 06, 2012, 02:37:31 PM
I really don't know what to think... but I love the way you write, it's enough for me to read anything you write. :) Then I decide what I think about it...
Title: Re: PEOPLE of the LIE (Prologue)
Post by: luna on May 07, 2012, 07:27:37 AM
Uh...somehow, this story is leaving a painful yet warm feeling. It is like, holding into a things you cant possibly have but you cant help but to try to hold it. Things like how you are so eager bout knowing the truth but once you know it, it wasnt something that you wanted it to be. Then you have to deal with the wonder how you should do it. But, despite that, still thinking that the truth itself wast so bad.

People of Lie
Wah? o__O i dont know what i should wow.
Friendship isn’t anything but mere make-believe. is a world where people could fake almost everything. There are times when i flatly said that statement like this wasnt true. And there are times when i said that it is true.

Love is entirely magical, and it’s only the ignorant fools who fall for such storybook illusions. There are people that didnt mind being a fool sometimes. Then again, love is things beyond my fully understanding. So..maybe it is true?

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. ah? in the end, the destination is still hell...isnt it?

You are like....trolling my mind :lol: in a good way, i suppose. I like the way you write, it is painful...yet good, because at the same time, it makes me thinking stuffs...sorry, i am blabbering oddly right now. What i want to say is, i would like to read the continuation :)
sankyuu for the mind trolling though, no really, sankyuu :D

Title: Re: PEOPLE of the LIE (Prologue)
Post by: kahem on May 09, 2012, 06:04:19 PM
Wo it seems really dark and deep.
Title: Re: PEOPLE of the LIE (Prologue)
Post by: Pwoper48 on May 10, 2012, 10:08:20 AM
The way you write this story is good. Even though i'm a little confused the first time i read it. But i like it  :)

Title: Re: PEOPLE of the LIE (Prologue)
Post by: 48matama on June 14, 2014, 04:30:52 AM
Title: Re: PEOPLE of the LIE (Prologue)
Post by: Kirozoro on June 15, 2014, 03:02:04 PM
Update please
Title: Re: PEOPLE of the LIE (Prologue)
Post by: Zita on June 16, 2014, 06:57:13 PM
 :sashiko: :mon thumb:
Title: [ONESHOT] Pastime (WMATSUI) (26/04/2016)
Post by: gekikarabuACE on April 26, 2016, 12:12:41 PM
A/N: Because for some reason, I can't really concentrate on working on my on-going without finishing this first. This has been sitting on my computer, half-finished, for a while now. I have a few more of these half-finished one-shots lying around, though it remains to be seen if/when they'll ever get to see the light of day.  :D


She wouldn’t go so far as to call it a habit.

There isn’t any real reason for her to creep on random people like some crazed stalker.

It’s only but natural – when you’re perpetually stuck behind the counter of a quaint little café down the corner of some small side street, you’re bound to come up with the oddest ways and methods of passing the time.

At least, that’s how Jurina likes to reason it out.

And so on Monday mornings, it’s all about watching that balding, middle-aged guy struggle with his steaming cup of Irish coffee as he scurries towards his office building. (Usually, he can only take five strides away from her doorstep before he lightly spills his drink. These days, however, he can already go as far as ten – a new record for him.)

During Wednesdays, she spends the lazy afternoon serving cups of Macchiato and guessing which of those college kids would be the first to put their books down and break out the juiciest gossip instead. (As of the current tally, it’s the woman with the fake collagen lips who’s in the lead, with a total fifteen gasp-inducing ‘scandals’ under her belt, if Jurina has heard everything correctly.)   

Thursdays are a bit more peaceful, with only two regular customers – a couple, by the looks of it – coming in to occupy the most obscured table inside her little café. They always come in fifteen minutes after each other, and Jurina does nothing but serve them cakes and Espresso Romanos and then leave them be. (Jurina thinks there’s something more fishy going on, what with the furtive looks and nervous glances those two are always casting in her direction, like she’s some paparazzi. She swears the faces hiding behind those scarves and hoodies are vaguely familiar.)
Fridays are completely different, because that’s when the neighborhood prodigy comes in and plays the old piano for her. (Jurina doesn’t forget to brew a pot of green tea when Ikuchan comes because being the health freak that woman is, Ikuchan refuses to drink anything that’s unhealthy. Even if it’s for free. )

Tuesdays, Saturdays and Sundays are the slowest days of the week, and it’s during these long days when Jurina spends most of her time tirelessly debating with herself whether it’s really possible for someone to die of boredom (once in a while, Ikuchan drops by and butts in and makes it a two-person conversation).

"It’s just not possible, Jurina-san.”

“But what if you’re so bored that you forget to eat or drink for days, or even weeks?”

“Then you’d die of starvation and dehydration.”

“Caused by

Today isn’t any different, Jurina muses to herself, as she restlessly raps her fingers on the wooden counter for the umpteenth time. Her gaze travels to the old cuckoo clock hanging on the wall across. It’s only three o’clock in the afternoon, the bird obnoxiously informs her, a few hours since that snooty high school kid stepped out with her latte.

For a moment she considers closing the café early this time around and take the opportunity to head upstairs to her apartment and just kick back and relax (not that she hasn’t been practically doing just that since early that morning).

But then the door suddenly jingles open and Jurina is forced to put aside that tempting idea for the moment. She looks up to greet her newly-arrived customer with a wide smile.

Dark brown hair. Thin, pink lips. Perfect set of pearly white teeth.

And a fairly conspicuous patch of what looked like bird droppings slithering down one shoulder.

Jurina cringes inwardly at the sight (of the dirt, not the pretty woman).

Fumbling slightly, she pulls out a fresh piece of washcloth from under the counter and swiftly wets it under running water, before handing it to the unfortunate stranger who had entered her humble shop in haste. “Uh, here, why don’t you use this to wipe… that thing off your shirt?”

The spastic dance and the muttered curses stop as soon as Jurina opened her mouth.

A pair of piercing caramel eyes.

“Thanks.” The woman tugs the proffered cloth from her grasp and breaks the eye contact with a startled blink. Jurina watches in quiet amusement as her visitor lightly swipes away the dirt, careful not to make any more mess than there already is.

“Your café is empty,” the woman oh so casually observes, visibly torn between tossing the soiled towel in the trash bin and handing it back to its owner until Jurina motions for it. 

“So I’ve noticed.” Her eyes sparkle with mirth. She swiftly chucks the dirty cloth to the nearest bin and shrugs. “It’s a dead hour this time of the day.” 

“Ah,” the stranger all but whispers, and Jurina wonders to herself if she’s creeping her out with her grin (Ikuchan had mentioned it a few times before), given the way the woman’s eyes keep on flitting between her, the empty café, and the scorching sun outside.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Jurina graciously inquires before the silence gets any more awkward.

“Um, sure.”

The answer comes as a pleasant surprise.

“Can I have a cup of Americano, please?”

She cheerfully shoots up from her seat towards the sink and makes a grand motion of soaping her hands under the running tap. Lest she gets shut down for atrocious hygiene standards, of course. She did just handle bird poop a while ago.

“For here or to go?”

The stranger blinks at her once more.

“I’ll have it here.”

The pitcher and utensils melodiously clink and clatter against each other as she gets right down to work. “One steaming cup of Americano, coming right up.”

It looks like those boring days are about to change.


And that’s when it starts, that little game in which Jurina guesses (more like wishes, but she won’t admit that little fact) whether the pretty stranger would come in for the day. When she does, Jurina takes note of the woman’s habits and jots them down in her head.

Like, how she always orders the simplest drink on the menu. Or how she always takes the corner table, the one where she can have a full view of the café (not that it’s hard; the place is small). Or even how her pretty little nose is always buried under that huge book of hers.

On good days, her friend Churi comes in to help at the café, so Jurina takes advantage and studies the woman a bit more.

Two weeks and counting, and Jurina is fairly confident that she has familiarized herself with the woman. At least enough to start a conversation that doesn’t involve her asking for the woman’s order (even though that itself is a moot question because she already knows).

An Introduction to Modern Astrophysics,” Jurina reads out loud as she sets the customary hot drink down on the small table. “That looks intimidating, judging from the thickness alone. Must be a hard book to read, isn’t it?”

Those warm, caramel eyes widen for a second. “Uh, no. Not really.”

“Oh. Then, you’re intimidating.” Jurina mentally slaps herself for her foot-in-mouth moment (because what kind of woman would want to be told they’re intimidating?). She hastily recovers with a good-natured laugh and a scratch on her head. “Well, good luck on your book report, or exam, or whatever that book is for.”

“A little bit out of your league, isn’t she?” is what Churi whispers to her as soon as she gets back behind the counter. That earns her friend a good smack on the head.

“Shut up.”


“I didn’t order a cake, though.”

The pretty woman looks at the generous slice of strawberry cake on her table and then up at her, head tilting slightly in confusion. It takes most of Jurina’s self-control not to gush at the cuteness of it all (professional, she is professional).

“It’s on the house.” Jurina just grins that chesire-cat-grin of hers. “Think of it as a ‘thank you’, for being my best customer. You’ve been putting food on my table by regularly visiting my café for the past month.”

“Then, thank you as well.” The woman offers her a quick bow before burying her face behind her book once more, but Jurina thinks she also sees a tinge of crimson slash the woman’s cheeks before she takes her leave. 

“It’s Rena…”

She turns around.

“My name is Rena.”

The pretty woman – Rena – says once again.  If possible, Jurina’s grin widens just a bit more.

“Nice to meet you, Rena. I’m Jurina.”


Of course, there are those days when Jurina doesn’t always appreciate the idea of having Rena in her café.

Take for example, today.

“Sick people belong in warm, fluffy beds, you know. Not inside cold, deserted cafés.” She calls out from behind the counter, throwing aside rug she’s been using to absently clean otherwise spotless counter. 

Jurina walks over and takes a closer look, eyebrows knotting lightly at the other woman. Red nosed and watery eyed, Rena’s suspicious appearance leaves Jurina wondering how the woman even managed to drag herself in there. 

“I’m actually about to close for today,” she adds, much to the chagrin of her visitor.


“Yeah, I don’t think anyone’s coming in, anyway. Especially with that kind of storm raging on.” She peeks outside the window, then instinctively takes a step back when the dark skies flashes dangerously for a split-second.

“I’m sorry, then I should just – eh? What are you doing?”

Rena questions her when she walks over to the door and starts locking. She flips over the ‘close’ sign then draws down the curtains for good measure.

“Like I said, sick people belong in bed.” Jurina gently wraps her hand around Rena’s (warm) dainty wrists and gives a gentle tug, afraid that if she isn’t careful, the frail-looking woman would actually crumble at her touch. “Come on, let’s go.”

She leads her to a door at the back of the room, silently thankful that Rena didn’t have the half a mind to decline. (That or that she is just too sick; either way it’s not like Jurina is a shady person, if she may say so herself.)

Jurina tugs the door and reveals a set of stairs leading to her small (yet cozy) apartment.

“Go on, take the bed.” She guides her over and tucks her in herself when she sees the hesitation in those caramel eyes. “No coffee for you today, Rena-chan. I’ll make some soup for you to eat instead.”

There’s faint blush on the woman’s cheeks, but Jurina isn’t sure if that’s just because of the girl’s temperature.

“Rest for a while, okay? I’ll be back.”

(She spends the rest of the night nursing the other woman back to health. Not that she really minds. Though she wishes she could just escape the subsequent teasing from Churi, instead.) 


“Hi! You must be the Jurina I’ve heard all about.”

Jurina plasters a smile, eyes indiscreetly (or so she hopes) traveling to their linked arms, all the while thinking how badly she wants to slap Churi for that poorly disguised snort.

It’s not often that Jurina gets tongue-tied. On a scale of not once to never, she’s probably around the range of nope, never happened. But that’s only until today, when Rena walks in.

With somebody else.

“I’m Airi, Rena’s friend.”

“Yes, I guess that’s me,” Jurina hesitantly answers, blinking away at the blinding smile the woman is flashing her.

“Thanks for taking care of her when she was sick. Rena may look meek as a lamb, but she can be stubborn as a mule sometimes.”

Rena surprisingly keeps quiet and shuffles embarrassedly beside her friend, and Jurina can’t help but smile genuinely at the adorable woman (despite the fact that they’re still linking their arms).

“No, it’s okay. I really didn’t mind.”

“As a sign of gratitude, how about we treat you to a movie tonight. If you’re free, of course.” Airi briefly glances at someone behind Jurina then grins at her (somehow it looks suspicious, but she lets it go this time). “You can take your friend with you, if you want.”

She doesn’t even need time to consider her offer because her friend Churi readily supplies the answer.

“We’re free!”

And that’s the reason why Jurina found herself standing in front of the movie house, hours later, waiting in line to get in and watch a horror film she doesn’t even remember choosing.

The night goes by in a blink of an eye (probably because she had her eyes closed, clutching Rena’s arm and whimpering like a kid the entire time). Before she knows it, they’re standing in front of Rena’s modest apartment, ready to say goodbye.

“Thanks for the movie. I’m sorry I used your arm as a shield.” Jurina sheepishly offers as she kicks the non-existent dirt on the pavement. Their so-called friends have left them hours ago after offering ridiculous excuses; so ridiculous that Jurina swears there must be a catch somewhere.

“It’s okay. Actually, I’m more sorry about Airi. I don’t know why she’s so insistent on watching that horror movie.” Rena frowns (in that cute way that makes Jurina wants to pinch her cheeks). “Though your friend Churi was pretty adamant as well.”

“Yeah, she can be insufferable at times.”

Her quiet laugh tickles Jurina ears all the same.

“Well, I guess this is it. Good night, Jurina.”

Jurina watch the woman disappear inside the building, feeling more than a little dumbstruck and inexplicably winded at the soft, pink lips that grazed her cheeks mere seconds ago.

(Well, again on that same scale of not once to never, this goes along the range of there’s always a second time.)


Churi calls it ‘love’ and leaves it at that.

Ikuchan calls it a ‘chemical reaction’, then launches into an elaborate explanation of endorphins and neurosignals that Jurina doesn’t bother to listen, much less understand.

That balding, middle-aged guy calls it nothing short of a miracle, but that’s just because he’s more than relieved now that Jurina has something to worry about other than watch him spill coffee on himself on Monday mornings (surprisingly, he knows about that).

In any case, Jurina doesn’t try to think much about that indescribable feeling at the pit of her stomach whenever she sees Rena. (Except that she does, going as far as asking whether there’s an actual medical condition that can make her feel like having a cross between stomach butterflies and a constant bout of indigestion.)

For today Jurina just settles with watching Rena tinkle around the old piano (that Ikuchan often plays), on this peaceful Tuesday afternoon. Perched on the barstool, she rests her chin on the counter and smiles to herself. The realization doesn’t come to her until much after, but the more she watches her, the heavier that feeling in her stomach feels.

“Ne, Jurina. Do you know how to play?”

She snaps into attention. Rena waves her over, and like a faithful little puppy, Jurina comes with her (invisible) tail wagging.

“Eh, just a little.” She settles beside the woman and randomly presses a few keys.

“Play for me?” Rena blinks and tilts her head, something that Jurina swears should be illegal because how does one refuse a request when confronted with a face like that? (Like Rena could tell her to jump and she’d ask how high.)

And so Jurina does.

She doesn’t have Ikuchan’s graceful fingers, nor her pitch perfect voice, but still she tries. She tries in earnest, even though her fingers are clumsy and her voice cracks a few times, singing about being simply out of league of this perfect woman she managed to find. Rena has grown quiet by the time she finishes the song.

Jurina figures she must have done something right, though, judging by the way Rena deeply stares at her with those big, twinkling eyes in a way that she can’t really explain (it takes a of lot control not to get lost in them). 

And if that isn’t convincing enough, the warm, soft lips that softly presses on her own should.


“Hey, Rena-chan. Not that I’m really complaining, but you don’t seem to have your books around these days.” Jurina observes one quiet Saturday night.

There’s this nagging thought that’s been bothering her for a while, like an itch she’s been trying to scratch, every time her gaze falls on the woman. Today hasn’t been any different, the thought pestering her all afternoon, until she finally pinpoints what exactly it is that’s been missing.

“Aren’t you being a little lax with your studies?”

“Hmm?” Rena glances from the table she’s been clearing, and thinks for a moment before exclaiming, “Oh! That’s because I got my master’s degree a couple of weeks ago. I’m now working as a marketing consultant at some firm in the city.”

“You’re a marketing what? You’re working where? Wait, I thought – ” She almost drops the tray she’s holding to gawk at this highly unexpected revelation. “Whatever happened to that book report you were doing? That modern astrophysics and stuff? You were always lugging that big book around a couples of months ago.”

“Ah, that.” The other woman scratches her head then turns back to what she’s been doing. “Well, you see, it was, uh, it was more of a pastime, really.”

“A pastime?!” Jurina’s voice goes a few notches higher. She doesn’t even bother to hide the incredulous look on her face. All those times, sitting in the corner, back against the wall, with full view of the place, Rena looked like some paranoid government agent watching – oh.


“Um, yeah.” Rena hastily gathers the rest of the empty cups and plates into her tray and dumps them into the sink. She keeps her head bowed but there’s no hiding the full blush that adorns her face. “Because I like… watching stars.”


“They fascinate me.”

“I see.”

“Eh? Why are you closing the shop early? It’s barely past seven o’clock,” the other woman calls out when Jurina walks over to the door and starts locking up.

“Well, you’ve got a rather boring pastime there.” Jurina hums while she thoughtfully rubs her chin. “How about I teach you a more productive one instead?”

“Yeah? What is it?”

She shoots her a predatory grin.

“I’ll show you… upstairs.”


Guys, get your minds out of the gutter.  :lol:
Title: Re: [ONESHOT] Pastime (WMATSUI) (26/04/2016)
Post by: screechingsoul on April 26, 2016, 12:55:06 PM
 :on GJ: perfect!
Title: Re: [ONESHOT] Pastime (WMATSUI) (26/04/2016)
Post by: Minami-chan on April 26, 2016, 11:45:52 PM
“Well, you’ve got a rather boring pastime there.” Jurina hums while she thoughtfully rubs her chin. “How about I teach you a more productive one instead?”

“Yeah? What is it?”

She shoots her a predatory grin.

“I’ll show you… upstairs.”

 :inlove: :inlove:
Title: Re: [ONESHOT] Pastime (WMATSUI) (26/04/2016)
Post by: Janix123 on April 27, 2016, 03:43:28 PM



Title: Re: [ONESHOT] Pastime (WMATSUI) (26/04/2016)
Post by: LuckyMatsui on April 27, 2016, 03:59:44 PM
I see what you did there Author-san. :hiakhiakhiak: :hiakhiakhiak:  :kekeke:
Title: Re: [ONESHOT] Pastime (WMATSUI) (26/04/2016)
Post by: junchan48 on April 28, 2016, 04:15:49 AM
Can you show me that 'productive' thing, author-san? :v
This fic is...great! Really!

Gonna wait your next work~ Or maybe the 'productive' part :v
Title: [Collection] Catch & Release - Hard Definitions(drabbles) -NatsuMado, WMatsui
Post by: gekikarabuACE on May 22, 2016, 12:17:04 PM
I don't know what I'm doing, resurrecting these old ficlets/drabbles of mine, when I should be working on my on-going instead. Oh well. :nervous

Btw, I'm also going to use this thread to dump ficlets/OS/drabbles from now on. I think I have two more OS that I'm tweaking to fit my ships, lol.



“I told you, Maachan, it wasn’t my fault.” She stared right into the eyes of the fuming girl, head deliberately shaking left and right as if to prove her point.

“Oh? So it’s not your fault when you tripped and conveniently landed on Sakura’s boobs during today’s dance practice, is it?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Uh-huh. And you were just lucky that Sakura and her babies were there to break your fall, weren’t you?”

“Yes! I mean, no, I wasn’t aiming for Sakura’s – ”

“I’d choose my words carefully, if I were you.” Madoka looked like she was ready to pop a vein in anger.

“I tripped, and it was accident. But really, it wasn’t my fault,” Natsu insisted with as much conviction as she could muster.

“Then who, pray tell, was that big idiot who gave you the opportunity to freely cop Sakura’s twins?” Madoka cocked a dangerous eyebrow. Natsu resisted the urge to flee the scene altogether. “Enlighten me, Ms. ‘I-am-not-a-pervert’, or you’ll be the one who’s going to get skinned alive.”

“Well, since you insist on asking…” Just above Madoka’s shoulder, Natsu could see the rest of her members scampering from the cool beauty’s impending wrath as far away as possible. She scratched her head helplessly. “It was actually you who stepped on my foot first, so –”


Commotio Cordis

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

Steady. Mechanical. Perfunctory.

She has always been trapped in a life of endless routine. From the moment she wakes up until the second she closes her eyes to sleep, she would go through the motions of her life like it was nothing but a customary ‘to-do’ list, ticking out the things she needed to accomplish.

With a sigh, she dragged herself out of bed and made a beeline for the bathroom, took a shower, got dressed and left for school.

(Day in and day out, it was always the same.)

Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

Dull. Monotonous.

Always the same faces; always the same places: the ailing old lady sweeping along her street; the bumbling office guy struggling to get through the thick crowd down in the subway; the long-time couple running alongside each other through her favourite hiking trail. Deny as much as these people want, everyone was all the same.

A creature of habit, very much just like herself.

Shaking her head, she continued on her usual path and went about her day.

(Once in a while, she also wondered if anyone else out there was getting tired of being stuck in the same old boring routine. Maybe some of them; maybe none at all.)



But then she really should have known better.

Fate had never been one to play fair. If having an errant fowl drop a big a surprise on her shoulder was fate’s way of ‘spicing up’ her life, then she has certainly lucked out today (of all days).

She blindly rushed under the nearest roof she could find, arms flailing wildly all around as she tried to shake away the dirt in disgust. This wasn’t exactly what she had in mind when she wished for something to break the monotony of her life.

“Here, why don’t you use this to wipe that thing off your shirt?”

Startled, she looked up and unexpectedly met the warmest pair of brown eyes she has ever seen….

Rena’s heart skipped a beat.



That was how it felt like when Natsu began tracing her soft fingers up and down, playing with her silky smooth skin.

Delicate and fleeting.

Like hundreds of little winged creatures sending waves upon waves of excitement to every inch of her body.


Natsu’s gentle touches were just like butterflies, searching for those hidden places she was most sensitive to.

“You’re beautiful.”

Her breath hitched; the desire was almost blinding. All forms of coherent thought slowly dissolved from her mind, and all she could think about right at that moment was the electrifying sensation of Natsu’s warm fingers threatening to overwhelm her entire being.

“Do you know that?”

As if her senses hadn’t already been stripped down to its thinnest thread, the mind-numbing touches gradually stopped, only to be replaced by a feeling of warm, moist lips planting butterfly kisses on her bare abdomen.

“So beautiful,” Natsu murmured ever so softly in between kisses before she started to painstakingly make her way up.

Madoka’s fluttering vision exploded into a thousand sparkling butterflies.

DNR (Do Not Resuscitate)

“I’m really sorry. I know I made a mistake.”

Her pleas fall on deaf ears as clothing after clothing resolutely drops on the open suitcase by the floor.

“Could you please just let me explain?” She begs some more, but the person remains so stolid and unwavering that she has to wonder whether everything that’s happening right now is real, and not just mere vestiges of sleep. “Don’t do this. Please, don’t do this.”

The suitcase closes with finality and it pulls her from her dream (How she just wishes that it was, because she’d rather not face a reality which looks more like a nightmare of her own making.).

Come on, talk to me, damn it! Hit me. Scream at me. Curse me all you like. I’ll take it. I’ll take everything you throw at me.”

Still, she gets no answer, and soon enough, her desperation and frustration melt into nothing but desolate words.

“Don’t just… walk away mad.”

“I’m so tired, Jurina.” Rena stares at the stubborn hand holding her back. She gazes deep into her rueful eyes, gives her hand a light squeeze, before completely pulling herself away.

“Let’s not do this anymore.”

Jurina’s tearful eyes fall on the small, sparkling trinket Rena had pressed on her palm, fingers uselessly tracing its continuous frame.

There’s no such thing as forever.

“Please don’t walk away at all.”


“I think I’m too old for this stuff,” Natsu groaned painfully from the practice room floor, causing Madoka to look up from her book. “My body isn’t flexible enough to withstand all those kinds of impossible acrobatics with you.”

“Nonsense. You just need a little more practice, Naachan, that’s all.” With her free hand, Madoka grabbed a couple of their members’ bags from the floor and propped them under the other girl’s knees as pillows. She shook her head disapprovingly as the older girl tenderly kneaded her lower back. “Besides, if Haruppi and Sakura can do it every night without looking like crap the morning after, then we sure as hell can do it as well.”

“Back pains again, Naachan?”

Before Madoka could protest, Natsu snatched the wretched book from Madoka’s grasp and chucked it determinedly towards their young member who had discreetly emerged from the dressing room. “Meru-chan, please do me a favor and throw that book back to Haruppi’s face. Wait, better yet, just burn the whole thing and scatter the ashes into the sea.”

'Advanced Yoga Practices – Easy Lessons for Ecstatic Living',” Meru read out from the unassuming paperback that was flung at her. Her eyebrows furrowed together. “This looks like a good book, Naachan. It would be such a waste if I just throw it away like you asked.” She casted them a slightly pleading look. “Why don’t I just keep it with me? Maybe Chiizu and I could learn from it one of these days.”

“You can take it, Meru-chan,” Madoka urged casually with a dismissive wave. “I’ve memorized the whole book, anyway. Go ahead and try it with Chiizu. She’s alone in the other room right now.”

Nodding gleefully, Meru hurriedly bounded out of the practice room and towards the room at the end of the hallway, and as soon she disappeared from sight, Madoka turned to the older girl with an almost feline smile.

Natsu visibly gulped.

“Now, which one of those positions should we try out tonight?”


“Stop staring at all the bikini-clad girls, Jurina, or I swear you won’t ever get the chance to step another foot in this beach,” Rena growled from under her dark sunglasses. “And wipe that stupid grin off your face.”

“I’m not staring at anyone! And how can you even say that I’m smiling when I’m obviously not?”

“Uh-huh. Right. So you’re cheeks are turning crimson because…?”

“Because… I thought-uh, my cheeks were-um, falling asleep,” Jurina offered lamely. Her eyes cautiously sized up the image of a scantily-clad Rena staring crossly at her. The sight was astonishingly imposing, nonetheless. Her entire face went three shades paler (except for her cheeks which were now turning from deep red to frighteningly purple.).

If possible, she squeezed her cheeks even harder.

“Ah-I’m pinching it to-uh, stimulate blood circulation.”

A/N: These are all medical terms that I've used. That's because it's what I'm most familiar with. And if you've noticed, Commotio Cordis sounds a bit familiar. That's because it's kind of the primer for my other OS, Pastime. This was written before that, so yeah.

Comments/critiques would be most welcome! I'm also open to suggestions, if you have any. Though I might be more inclined to write mostly HKT members (plus WMatsui).