Echizen, Ryoma.
That boy with beautiful golden-brown eyes, like a cat's. So proud, yet so sweet.
European-style stories, historical fantasy, gloomy Gothic tales. If you like any of these, come on in. There's sure to be one for you.
European style:
I thought with a touch of self-mockery that there would never be any shortage of people infatuated with him. Echizen Ryoma. I pressed the words against the roof of my mouth like a whispered prayer. He would never lack for admirers. Perhaps, long after this, he would gradually forget the marquis who had been ruined for his sake.
I disliked the thought, so I gathered up every emotion in my eyes and looked up with a smile. "Then, Ryoma, would you mind giving me one last kiss?"
Historical fantasy:
"Ten, no, five years. Ryoma, wait for me for five years." He murmured so gently, lightly brushing the boy's hair. "In five years, I'll ride by your side, riding hard and striking out across the world. Wait for me for five years, please, Ryoma."
Gothic style:
Gurgle.
I heard the sound.
I stood in the corridor, numb, watching as a nurse soon came out and threw a basin of bloody water away. The droplets were squeezed together, letting out pained wails. Darkening blood slowly trickled down the drain, dripping, dripping away.
