Akiko

Akiko looked into the serene face of the monk, then quickly down. She was a modern girl, but her mother had suggested she take her concerns to the temple. As mother's suggestions were forged in steel, Akiko was here. And she had to wear this ridiculous kimono; for decades women had been adopting western-style clothing and she felt much more comfortable in a light dress. But mother was the Shogun of the household.

Shiro looked at the young woman before him; she was fine and slight, as a woman should be, with her dark hair pinned back. Her flower-patterned kimono had obviously been put on her; while it accentuated her pale features perfectly, she was not comfortable wearing it. His body reminded him of the message of the spirit. She will come willingly and do all that I desire.

Akiko muttered the traditional words she had learned by rote as a small child. Then she spoke to the priest of the strange dreams she had been having and her illicit desire for respect that was normally due a man. And even worse, she wanted to learn to fly, to feel the freedom of the air and speed, even if it was only from inside an airplane under her control.

Shiro thought, _this foolish girl has been polluted by western culture; she wants to be the barbarian Amelia Earhart._He was about to advise her to give up this gaijin dream and find a proper husband but the words stuck in his throat. Unlike many, he saw in this child the spirit of a bird. If she did not fly she would wither and fade away, then fall like a cherry blossom in spring. But there was more; this was a bird of which he wished to see all the beauty of.

Akiko followed the priest down a lightly-forested path to the koi pond, quiet and serene under the thin blanket of the first winter snow. He was speaking to her of birds and other traditional foolishness, but somehow the words warmed her heart. Had her ancestors given him the words to touch her heart? The traditional viewing pavilion was somehow the perfect structure for her thoughts, covered and yet open.

Shiro instructed the girl to remove the pins from her hair, as it was more naturally free. He spoke to her about the beauty of the sky and the songs of the stars and the will of the river dragons. She had been skeptical at first, but he could see the doubts melting away from her face as he instructed and guided her.

At the master's suggestion, Akiko unbound her obi and put it on the small table; her kimono followed. The datemaki belt followed, and then the nagajuban and hadajuban. She did not question his motives for having her undress, as each layer gently taken made her feel more natural and free. Her breast-wrap and the susoyoke came next, and finally the suteteko and tabi. She stood nude in the pavilion, but did not feel cold despite the frost in the air.

Shiro watched the woman with a serene lust - the perfect temper of yin and yang. He had felt her beauty even through the clothes, but in its true revealed form it touched his heart. Here was a bird resting gently in the palm of his hand; he would do nothing to destroy that beauty, but only observe it. His manhood rose to its fullest extension as he simply watched her. Then he whispered "dance".

Akiko began swaying her subtle hips in time to the music of the breeze. She languidly breathed the night air, feeling the subtle chill caress her body. Her nipples firmed up to the touch of an invisible lover and a fire sprung to life in her womb. Her hands caressed her body as she shimmied and undulated, lost in the passion of the moment. Slowly her passion became more urgent, the lips at the base of her body parting under gentle caresses. Her thumb touched her precious button and drew the kanji for peace, love, beauty, and desire upon herself, carefully following each stroke of each character to fulfillment. Upon each breast in turn she drew the kanji for freedom.

Shiro stared at the pale thin beauty touching herself and his hand of its own accord found its way through his layers of clothing. He cupped his precious orbs while rubbing his full-standing member with the action of his wrist. The wisps of mist from his sighing mouth drew sinuous shapes in the night air.

Akiro drew the kanji for tsunami last. Each flicking stroke made her quiver and pulse, and the final touch released a flood of life-water that poured over her womanhood and down her legs. Her long keening sigh was answered by a night bird's call. She slowly sank to her knees in rapture.

Shiro's floodwaters roared up his arm, wetting it all the way to his elbow. He staggered back a half-step, freeing his arm and staring at the sticky fluid up its length.

Akiko slowly turned at the waist, seeing again the monk with the dribbling fluid sticking to his arm. She took it and ran her tongue up the length of the stream, carefully drawing the liquid away through her willing lips. She felt the power of the spirits flowing down her throat and gathering as burning embers in her soft and private mound. She had found her peace.