[April 11] [Hana Yori Dango] confusions

[swollenfoot.livejournal.com]

Title: confusions
Day / Theme: April 11 / meaningful violence
Series: Hana Yori Dango
Characters: Domyouji Tsukasa, Tsukushi
Rating: PG for language

1400 091006

Somewhere out there, rivulets of livid purple etched themselves upon the sky. Unable to take the pressure, it gradually cracked open to release rain water in violent bursts. The sporadic deluge had been lambasting the lowly earth for a time now, and it seemed like any second now, the heavens would break open and simply expire in exhaustion.

(That the somewhere was actually just outside, he remembered, and that it was a little early in the year for thunderstorms.)

He didn’t care.

His attention was riveted by the ringing in his ears, the spreading warmth stinging his cheek, and of course, the bristling, hyperventilating ball of ire in front of him.

He recovered.

“What the HELL was that for?” he demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Try no?”

The veins on her forehead were popping out rather dangerously.

“H-hey, I can buy truckloads of that.” His retort was rather defensive, in spite of himself. “And if I want to track mud in it, I can and I will!”

“Never mind the damn carpet,” she said impatiently. “Where the HELL were you?”

The rain-soaked, bedraggled CEO and president of the international Domyouji financial group stared at his wife in disbelief, his usually fierce brown eyes bugged out rather comically. “What?”

Meaningfully, she kicked him.

Tsukasa yelped. “I went to buy your stupid pickled plums, geeze!” he said as he plunked to the floor with a plop. “Damn you and your whims, you violent woman.”

“P-pickled plums?!” Tsukushi sputtered. “But–! Somebody else could have done that.”

“What ‘somebody’?” She had given the servants the weekend off.

Her flabbergasted expression was replaced by one of self-righteous dignity. “And may I remind Domyouji-sama of his garage-full of cars?”

“Ore-sama can’t drive,” he pointed out. “He usually doesn’t need to.” She had given all the servants the weekend off.

His wife of four years stood there for a while as he nursed his shin, seemingly trying to find fault in his line of reasoning, seemingly finding none. Absently, she stroked her fulsome belly as her expressive eyes trained the splotched skies outside. She was simply adorable in one of his old shirts and mismatched socks (waste not was still her motto), and he found his hurt anger fading with the soreness of his very recently acquired battle injuries.

“What’s the matter?” he spoke up with a smirk. “Figured out how sorry you are yet?”

“Not really,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Thanks to your kid blocking the way, I can’t lift my foot high enough to kick your face.” She frowned. “But if I try to break your jaw with my knee, that’ll be a little too much, and I wasn’t really that worried....”

“...”

“Come on and change out of those wet clothes, you idiot,” her voice floated behind her as she waddled away. “And don’t forget those plums.”

Tsukasa sighed profoundly. My, but even he could admit to it: Tsukushi scared him a lot these days. Why? He didn’t really know, but he’d bet that belly pugnaciously sticking out of her had something to do with it.

Heh. Confusions to the world.

~1430