A Dash of Chili Powder

113

Amaya stuffed the candies carefully inside her satchel, hoarding every last peach-flavored sweet. Her throat burned and her eyes stung with the heat of tears and she frowned deeply, setting her hands down on the table and leaning on them, finally accepting that she was going to cry. Her purple eyes dripped warm, painful tears, her body shuddering. She coughed and choked on the knot in her throat, trying her hardest to be silent.

How could she be so stupid?

She wasn't pretty or really even worth the affection some people gave her. She was a shinobi. A killer. An unfeeling badass. Shinobi weren't supposed to have feelings. Shinobi were supposed to be calm and collected, calculating and quick. What was she?

Soft. Dependent on others. Utterly alone. Ugly. 

She thought bitterly, her purple ears twitching and swiveling backwards in her self-doubt and pain. Pain? Again, shinobi don't have feelings. You can't have them if you're a shinobi because of the danger, because someone can take advantage of you and hurt you. Kill you.

She was such a fool.

Pushing herself off the table, she wiped her eyes (which didn't stop spilling tears) and turned around, her eyes widening immensely. Rage was standing there in front her, sadness evident in his own face.

"Rage," she muttered, looking away from him.

[She's so socially stupid... ]

Gracie

The tears on Amaya's face splashed white-hot pain over Rage's heart that burned ardently. What was wrong with her? She'd gotten so broken up in the span of a few minutes. Had Vell said something? Wouldn't put it past him, but - Amaya didn't seem like the kind of girl to be affected by a stranger's words.

He stood there as she wept without a sound with her face to the wall. He looked at her for a long time. His fingers flexed at his side at the urge that seized him. There was that war again: Instinctual vs. Practical.

Practical's case: Honestly, what could you do to comfort her? You're a giant mute who isn't confident enough to face his own demons - and now you want to juggle a girl's who you met not even a month ago? You're out of your league here, kid.

Instinctual's case: Such pain in her eyes....

Rage hesitantly padded into the room and stood in front of Amaya. More hesitating. Then he knelt down and took one of her tiny hands. As for the rest.... well, he wasn't sure what else he should do.

Me

Amaya flinched at the touch of Rage's warm hand on hers, hiccuping in her fit of tears. She had half a mind to tear her hand away from his, but...she couldn't. She couldn't move, her heart racing as she cried. She couldn't stop the tears, couldn't pull away, couldn't resist him. Nothing. 

She couldn't do a thing.

She was hurting, confused at what she'd seen before, startled by Rage's touch. She frowned, cheeks red, unable to do anything else.

"W-What..." she whispered, breathing in small gasps.

Gracie

Rage felt like there was something physically tearing him down his middle. He wanted to both embrace her and pull away from her. Amaya seemed to have the will to snatch her hand from his', but her body did not.

He hand was tiny and cool, and soft. And trembling. Why was she being like this? He wished he could ask her.

Heart pounding with uncertainty and fear of rejection, Rage pulled her arm and wrapped his own around her in an awkward but soft hug. Hopeful she wouldn't push him away. Afraid of what would happen if she didn't.

[Crap post is craaaaap~ -.-]