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Message-ID: <31051asstr$993388202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "celia batau" <pinataheart@bigplanet.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} {hopperswap} Hyakushutsu {celia batau} (F-solo}
Date: Sun, 24 Jun 2001 09:10:02 -0400
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hi everyone!

this story is from the hopperswap between KatieMcN and us. we each gave the
other two or three story ideas and chose two to put together into a story.
:)

a glossary for the japanese words is at the end of the story. :)

note: copyright 2001 celia batau. you may copy this story for personal use
so long as the author's name and this note are retained. permission to copy,
distribute, or display this work is not given to any website which charges
access to it. permission to copy, distribute, or display this work is given
to "no charge" websites with written consent of author.

If you like this story or have any comments, please email us at
pinataheart@bigplanet.com.

enjoy!

-cb

Hyakushutsu
celia batau, (C)2001

How odd to see the snow falling over a hot spring, Emiko thought as she
relaxed neck deep in the warm water. A single lantern at the edge of the
garden enclosing the onsen cast a warm yellow glow but little light. Emiko
rested her head back against the wooden edge of the tub and stared at the
stars. They were so different everywhere she went, like fingerprints left on
her memory, reminding her of the seasons, the new friends, new foods, new
lands. Back in Nagano, she reencountered the familiar voices, but never the
same faces.

Slowly, Emiko's finger traced the line of an areola beneath the water. While
her thoughts drifted, her hands continued the soothing play, eventually
finding their way southward between her thighs and into the softest of her
skin. Emiko closed her eyes and let herself melt into the warm water.
Thoughts and memories swirled between the gentle motion of her fingertips
until the sub-electric ripples swelled and spread through her senses.


Emiko opened her eyes and was surprised to see nothing. The lamp must have
gone out, she thought, and continued to gently float, though it took several
moments for her to realize what she was no longer floating in. Suddenly,
Emiko's senses snapped awake as fear gripper her. Her body twisted to find
purchase against the tub, against anything. But there was nothing.

Then first where there was nothing began a soft amber glow, which quickly
manifested into filaments of light, that became upon closer inspection more
like linked medallions, with scattered dandelion shaped balls of white light
interspersed in helical lines between and throughout. Like strange deep sea
creatures, the enormous filaments danced and circled, oblivious to her
presence. Emiko stared, eyes wide. Surprisingly, the longer she watched, the
more sense the chaotic dance made. The whole soon appeared to her as spheres
within spheres. It was almost as if she just reached out, she could touch
the delicate strands of light.

Slowly, the spheres turned. Willing herself forward to touch the outermost
sphere, Emiko found herself in the path of one of the giant balls of light.
The impact made no sensation as Emiko passed into it, but when she reached
the center of the being, she was overcome by a feeling of peace stronger
than anything she had ever experienced before. Then merging with the peace
came a soft gentle love that enveloped her. At that moment, Emiko knew it
was alive. Opening herself up, she greeted each sensation openly, absorbing
this gift of contact, when suddenly she passed through the other side of the
being.

"No, wait!" Emiko begged as the peace faded. Emiko could still feel the
slender ribbons of love connecting her, but they too dissolved, leaving her
completely alone again. Don't leave me, she cried, but already the shape was
moving away. And with it pulled her heart, torn in part by the separation.
Emiko wept, more in anguish than in pain as her world returned to blackness.

--

The next morning was cold and bright. In a private room of the ryokan, Emiko
took breakfast with two other female guests.

"I really do need this vacation." The single mother seated across the table
announced and tasted a slice of pickled cabbage with a thoughtful
expression. Her face glowed, scrubbed and fresh. Her short black hair was
clipped into a barrette in the back, giving her a youthful appearance.

"Yes, I agree." Emiko replied. Her heart still ached from the separation,
and the sense of loss and emptiness lingered behind every thought and
motion. As she sat and stared at her soba, the tears began to fall.

"Emiko, are you all right?" the third member of their group, an architect,
asked as she leaned forward, concerned.

"I'm ok." Emiko covered, "Everything is so beautiful."

The architect smiled. "Not everything."

The two women turned to her.

"Legend has it. . . ,"

"Legend has it," the single mother interrupted, "That always sounds so
funny, doesn't it? Like a ghost story or something."

Emiko nodded, but continued listening.

"Six hundred years ago, Okinamura, the land where this spa is built, was a
small farming village. The local Diamyo was especially cruel, and when one
year the crops failed to produce, the Diamyo put the entire village to
death."

Later, when the waitress had removed their dishes, Emiko stood and made her
farewells. Leaving the room, she followed the hall in the direction of her
room.

"Hey, Emiko san!"

Emiko turned to see the single mother standing at the entrance to the
private room.

"Remember not to sleep with your head to the north," she called, "That's how
the dead sleep!"

The single mother smiled and waved, then disappeared down the hall.

--

That night, Emiko slipped alone back into the garden and into her tub. And
like the night before, the heated vapor flushed her cheeks, but didn't ease
her anxiousness. The thought of not being able to recreate the previous
night twisted her stomach. So settling into the same spot as before, she
waited until she was confident she wouldn't have any interruptions before
sliding her hands to her breasts.

Tentatively, she caressed the undersides of each until the warmth and her
own touch eased her back into the languid state where her thoughts became no
more substantial than the mist escaping the surface of the water. Soon, she
felt the desire to touch herself and let her focus turn to the pleasantness
building below. She stroked her labia, letting her touch run along and
between, then lightly circling her clitoris before returning to her center.
This time, her orgasm came faster and washed her up and out of the world.


Emiko opened her eyes to the glow. The serenity that enveloped her the night
before returned. Strange hands immediately reached out to her, to caress her
human form. Bathed in the attention, she allowed them the freedom of her
body. Emiko felt no fear, only the desire for the magical touch never to
stop.

"Hana litau inali da."

It was a voice. At first Emiko wasn't sure she had heard it, as the soft
tones almost blended completely with the sensations.

"We move creation?" Emiko asked. Somehow she understood the meaning, even if
she didn't understand the words. "Explain, please?"

Instead of answering, the hands moved around her, pointing her towards the
spheres. Emiko waited, not understanding what they were telling her, but
then she saw it. It was in the patterns of the dance. It was creation.

--

Driven by an unmistakable inner certainty, Emiko found herself up before
dawn. Leaving the front door to the spa behind her, she followed a narrow
path that ran parallel to the more modern asphalt road until it turned in
the direction of Okinamura. Somehow, she knew where she was going, as if
pulled by some spot beyond her vision, but it was so clear, guiding her like
a compass point. By sunset, Emiko had crossed into uneven ground, and by
night back into smooth flat earth, though Emiko had little sense of the time
as she walked.

Without a touch, without a single sensual thought, Emiko began to feel her
desire rise. It stoked a faint steady heat that she hadn't noticed until
that moment, but which had been with her since the morning. Emiko began
shedding her clothing piece by piece as she tripped through the wild grass.
The air was frigid, but it made her feel more awake than she had been all
day.

She stopped.

Emiko stood naked in the moonlight. The stars blazed above her, as if
calling her, and the small random patches of snow scattered across the
ground reflected the light in their own constellations. She knew she was
somewhere in the ruined village, though nothing in the dark revealed itself.
Closing her eyes, she brought her hand to the hidden spot between her legs
and pressed on her clitoris.


This time there was no greeting, no dandelion balls of white light. Emiko
was gliding over the surface of a sphere, much in the same way she imagined
one would glide over the surface of a moon.

"Don't leave me."

At that moment Emiko spoke, she noticed a slight fissure in the surface.
Emiko couldn't believe it. Quickly the fissure grew into a space, and the
timing of the sphere's movement changed in compensation. She willed herself
toward it, forgetting everything else around her.

"Don't leave me."

As Emiko neared the fissure, she felt her body shifting, revolving and
evolving in complicated convolutions that seemed more natural than the heavy
awkward form she was used to.

Emiko's senses also began to stretch as her limbs transformed, giving her a
glimpse of the wonder she was about to become a part of. Gravity. Laws of
magnetism. The spin of galaxies and the fluidity of electrons flowed through
her vision.  It was all too much for Emiko, but at last as she reached out
to the perfect beings on either side to join in the dance, it made a simple
sense to her. It was an understanding so basic that she couldn't imagine
ever not knowing it. Something so pure and beautiful as to completely
overwhelm the fragile illusion of a woman named Emiko, the simple fallible
girl who never knew where she was going until she arrived.


--

glossary
onsen - hot spring
ryokan - Japanese inn
soba - wheat noodles in broth
nagano - a prefecture in Japan

celia batau's story site: http://www.myplanet.net/pinataheart/stories.htm

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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