Kazusa Normal Ending – I

Kazusa’s hands, now free, slowly cupped my cheeks.

Kazusa’s whole body is burning up—her forehead, her breath, her palms.

She brought her face closer, her lips closer, slowly shutting her eyes…

“You’re sure? You’re really sure? It’s okay if I… take you for myself?”

Kazusa stops five centimeters from him, and hesitates for several seconds, her lips and eyelids trembling with uncertainty.
When she does finally kiss him, it is clumsy and mixed with apologies: she licks at the left corner of his mouth, where blood has welled up after she hit him earlier. Her movements are timid, her excuses on the verge of tears—in stark contrast to her earlier declarations that she would steal him, that she would make him embrace her.
She may be the sort to shove him down and demand physical love from him—the sort to say and do extreme things—
But, as she simultaneously apologizes for causing him pain and reminds him of the pain he caused her, he knows. He knows painfully well how cowardly and uncertain she is in the end.
Kazusa continues to kiss him everywhere but straight on the lips, afraid of rejection. As much as she bluffs, all it takes to cut her down is for him simply to avert his eyes.
And it excites him. The fact that she can’t steal him herself is an invitation for him to steal her instead.
Finally, he uses his left hand to push her face into position, and he kisses her for real—a kiss that comes all too naturally for him, but would seem impossibly warped to the rest of the world…

The moment our lips touched, Kazusa cried out with five years’ worth of astonishment—not out into the air, but into my mouth.

The tears that had accumulated gushed forth once more, as though a dam had broken, stinging my eyes.

Kazusa has been the one making all the moves, the one initiating the kiss, but now…

Now she stared at me in a daze, as though she had been taken by force, her tears flowing endlessly.

Haruki begins to feel some guilt.
As she clenches her teeth, doing nothing to hide the tears in her voice, or the extremity of her emotions…

“Haruki, Haruki… A-a-ah… Ahh… Haru… a-ahh…!”

At a single encouraging gesture from Haruki—a light tap on the head—she loses her restraint and begins kissing him frantically, licking his lips all over like an excited puppy. Then she finally presses her lips against his, and it is desperate, single-minded, but also awkward, with no skill, nothing even remotely sexy about it.
It’s completely different from the kissing he’s accustomed to.

In order to crush down a memory that was threatening to rise to the surface, I thrust my tongue into Kazusa’s mouth, through the meeting of our lips.

Kazusa responds as he had expected—no, as he had hoped, opening her eyes wide, stiffening her body, caught off-guard. The feeling of her—her heat, her smoothness, her softness—gradually calm his heart. Then, her tongue slips into his mouth in turn.

And if she could just reach deep into the back of my throat, all the way to my brain, and scratch out the memory…

Using this absurd thought to conceal my feelings of guilt, I pushed my tongue in further, pouring in my saliva, and swallowed down the sounds I made.

Their kissing, their intimacy, becomes more and more violent, as Haruki pursues Kazusa more and more vehemently.


Entwined with each other—I, embracing Kazusa tightly, and Kazusa, clinging desperately to me—we fell to the floor, our lips still connected…

He lies on top of her now, their clothes open.
Her mouth is sticky with saliva, mixed with tears and sweat, bringing her true face into full relief.
He rubs his face against hers, and their bare chests press together at the same time, her hard nipples tickling his skin, and all these sensations bring up an overflowing animal lust in Haruki—the sort of lust he should never have felt for someone else.

“This is out of sympathy, right?”

Haruki is caught off guard.

“Pity. That’s why you’re doing it, right?”

Kazusa has decided this for him. That his actions, pressing his lips to hers, twining their tongues together, undoing the hooks of her bra, are not the fruits of pure love or romance, but contain unintended impurities. She insists that he see it this way, that he doesn’t have any strong feelings for her.

This was how Kazusa defended my crime.

Haruki is deeply distressed by the idea that he could do something so terrible—if it’s really that meaningless, why has there been so much screaming and crying? So much running away, so much depression, so much going numb?
And Kazusa, like him, just keeps lying. She’s glad that he’s terrible. She’s glad he lost his way.
But he never lost his way. He knew just where he was going: Kazusa, weeping, stretched out her hand to him, and he reached back, and took that step, precisely because he knew.
So he crushes her breasts in his hands, and buries his face between them, taking in her body heat, her streaming sweat, and her smell.
She wraps her arms around his head and pushes him against her body—as though even with all he’s doing, with his palms, fingers, lips, and tongue, it still isn’t enough. As if to ensure that they’ll never separate again.

I gripped Kazusa’s breasts hard, digging in my nails, until her skin began to redden.

As I sucked on her swollen nipple, I dug my teeth in, scraping against it.

With every movement, Kazusa shivers, stiffens, arches her back, bites her fingers, gasping, sweating. Haruki licks up every drop of sweat and saliva, running from between her breasts to the nape of her neck. And while his left hand continues its assault, his right hand slips lower.
Her gasp when it reaches its target is one not of pleasure, but of confusion, almost uncomfortable—as though it were something new to her.
When he asks if it hurts, she asks him to use her, just as he did five years ago.
Jumping back five years won’t make the guilt go away. Five years ago, they knew what they were doing was wrong, and they kept doing it anyway.
He can tell Kazusa’s body isn’t ready yet. It could be guilt, or some other kind of fetter, binding her. He knows, because he feels it, too.
So, as impatient as they are, as hurried as they are, they take their time.

I ran my fingers over every nook and cranny of her body, slippery with sweat, caressing, pinching, digging my nails in, etching.

He slips one finger inside her, and she begs him to keep touching her, all over. Her body moves to meet his movements—she wraps her tongue around his, caresses him, digs her nails in. The pain numbs the guilt in his heart, while the pleasure brings full attention to her existence.
He wonders why being with Kazusa always brings out the worst in him.
Kazusa’s whole body suddenly relaxes, and Haruki’s hands briefly stop. They’re both ready now, and they know it.
As Haruki positions himself at her entrance, her voice is strained with emotion, even though her body isn’t straining at all. She tells him not to tell anyone, not to repeat the mistake they made five years ago—even though they’re on the cusp of repeating it anyway. She tells him she won’t say a word.

Kazusa herself must have known what a powerful poison that was, the kind that could bring everything to ruin.

Still, she has to say it. She has to remind him that this happened because she forced him to it, that his feelings haven’t changed. She can’t let him, or anyone else, get hurt any more—so that she doesn’t break him.
Just as his mind starts slipping to Setsuna, she tells him to shut up and make love to her, as hard as he can.

Because my eyes were shut tightly, I didn’t see the look on Kazusa’s face when I penetrated her.

But I couldn’t block my ears, and the same scream I’d heard five years ago pierced my eardrums.

Everything is the same—the sensations at their point of union, the shivers it sends through his entire body. Kazusa hasn’t changed since the day that she first accepted him, back when she never accepted anyone.
They stare into one another’s eyes, tearful, smiling.
He tells her to relax—or to cling to him, otherwise. She does the latter.

With all the power in her body, Kazusa desperately twined herself around me, her arms and hands and nails, her thighs and calves and ankles.

Haruki doesn’t want to hurt her any more. So, even though he’s deep inside her, he doesn’t start moving—just slowly rubs his entire body against hers.
He’s not like he was back then. He’s taking care not to cause her any more pain or suffering than necessary.
He’s not like he was back then.
Now, he has the experience necessary to guide her without hurting her.
After checking in with her one last time, he begins moving.
He knows from experience now—what actions to take, what reactions those actions will draw, how to put her at ease.
He’s been working up to it this whole time.
He knows how she’s feeling by how she clings to him. He knows that, with tiny changes in power, speed, and angle, he can guide her sighs, her reactions, however he pleases.
She tells him it doesn’t hurt, that he’s not terrible at it any more.
And yet…

I was sure that I was guiding her in a way that felt good…

But the tears I saw in Kazusa’s eyes now were not those of one choked up with pleasure.

Kazusa has begun to cry for real. As he pushes his tongue into her mouth, trying to calm her down, she bites down with her front teeth.
The same thing happened five years ago. Then, it was because he wouldn’t say her name.
This time, it could be a distraction.
Ignoring the stinging in his tongue, he continues his attack, mashing their lips and teeth together, pinning her down, everything forceful and reckless.

I went at it as roughly as one with no experience… Hard, fast, violent, without any concern for the inexperienced other.

Without matching our breaths…

Steadily? No. Hard, fast, deep…

Rhythm and angles all over the place… Just single-mindedly thrusting into Kazusa.

It’s just as it was that night, the night that marked the first time for both of them.
They affirm to one another that, right now, Haruki belongs to Kazusa.
In that moment, Kazusa’s grip on him tightens, every part of her, everywhere they touch, as if to swallow him up.
To swallow up the proof that they made love for real.
She cries out for him to etch himself into her again.

The place where I once left my mark. The entrance where I left a permanent scar…

The innermost place, a place I never should have reached again.

Haruki is on the verge. He tells her to loosen up, but she only wraps herself around him tighter—her arms, her legs, everything—and refuses to let go, as though she knows it, too.
She’s been prepared for this the whole time, ever since they were two impulsive teenagers. Determined to accept him, not to let him go…
Just before it happens, he says one word: “Sorry.”
He isn’t sure to whom.
And, just like in any rote sexual encounter—clumsy, monotonous, fervent—his body stiffens, and he ejaculates inside of her, over and over. Even now Kazusa keeps her body wrapped around him, not letting go.
Twined together, their bodies on top of one another—and perhaps their hearts, too.
Laughing and crying, tears and a smile mixed together in her voice, her face, her sighs, she thanks him for doing the worst thing for her. She reassures him that she’s really the worst one.
It pierces him right through.

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