Sakura
Dreams
The sakura dreamt.
It dreamt of youth, long ago, when
the sap had run thin and risen like fire every spring. It dreamt of its
first companion, a blur of presence and an aristocratically pale,
well-tended hand, leaving an imprint of blood on supple bark. It dreamt
of blossoms, and death, and darkness.
It dreamt of him, an
image of sound, a mental touch as smooth and dark as blood, a slow
sweet swell of awareness that was hard to interpret as anything but
arousal. It dreamt of feeding.
Seishirou dreamt the sakura's dreams and woke up hungry.