The wandering priest introduced himself as Anchin when he stepped inside our house. Ah, he is so handsome! His face looks like the very countenance of the god of beauty, his weathered arms are pillars of adamant, and I can already tell that his priest's robes conceal a robust body. I cannot help but steal glances at him while he helps with the housework. He lifts the jars of our produce so effortlessly, and he is so sweet to my mother and I that it makes my heart burst.
I hope Anchin will stay for a while. A long, long, long, long while.
-----------------
I love him.
Anchin proposed to me today, near the banks of the Hadaka river. In the few weeks we have courted each other, he has made me the happiest woman in the world. Never have I met a man as understanding, as caring, and as kind as he.
Anchin said that he would be leaving for a while to arrange the wedding.
Be assured that I am counting the days until his return.
-----------------
I hate him.
He left me. He left me. He left me. He left me. He left me.
I see him, that traitorous bastard, speaking with the boatman on the riverbank. He sees me, and he harries the boatman into action.
By the time I reach the muddy banks, they are already at the middle of the raging waters.
However, something as trifling as an angry river cannot possibly compare to the ire of a scorned woman.
Furiously, I hurl my geta far away and dive head first into the river.
Rage, hate, and the embers of slighted affection set my blood ablaze. The water boils as my kimono melds with my skin and becomes hardhardhard. My hands, my pretty, painted hands, become cruel eagle's talons that bay for his blood. The eyes he used to praise for their clarity are now transfixed upon his impending doom.
By the time I rise for a breath of air, I am no longer human.
I am a dragon, and nothing on heaven, earth, or the netherworld will stop me from exacting my revenge.
-----------------
I killed him.
I have killed the only man who has ever loved me.
Of that single thing I am sure. I heard his screams reverberating from the bronze bell as I immolated it with dragon fire.
It was not a beautiful sound, but my senses were dulled by the flames of my hatred, and now there is nothing left but the ashes of fatigue.
... I am tired. So very very tired. Tiredtiredtired.
I hear the footsteps of the temple priests, brandishing their prayer beads and reciting their mantras in an attempt to exorcise me.
They will try, and they will fail, for there is nothing left of Kiyohime to banish.
-----------------
Author's Notes
Hey there. Might as well call this fic "Enforced Method Writing", because that's what this is. I'm currently experiencing love troubles right now, which is why I can relate with Kiyohime's situation. Please excuse my poor prose, as this was written on an emotional high. Anyway, please leave your comments below and thank you for bearing with me.
is kind of a translation joke I made.
Kiyohime's NP is literally like Mew and Canonrap translated it as "Samadhi Through Transforming Flames."
However, there was a person who this NP refers to, a person who achieved Samadhi through these flames was Acala.
So I thought if the NP is literally referencing that event, why not just called the NP that event?
Originally Posted by FSF 5, Chapter 14: Gold and Lions I
Dumas flashed a fearless grin at Flat and Jack as he rattled off odd turns of phrase.
"And most importantly, it's me who'll be doing the cooking."