5
May

In a Spark I Crave a Star

by Mitsui Matsuri (蜜井茉莉)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/47350.html)

Francesco was ten he saw his first dead body, sprawled under the wheels of Dottore Loiacono’s car. He hadn’t meant to make it common knowledge, but the muscle tics on the Gazzetta journalist’s face had grown increasingly pronounced the longer he dwelled on politics. It seemed churlish to continue ruining the day of someone who may well be a perfectly good man to his family, despite being wrong on everything else.

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28
Sep

Tracks

by Mitsui Matsuri (蜜井茉莉)
illustrated by redplasticglass

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/28710.html)

First week of November, the previous year

Ise wiped sweat and tears from his face, ignoring the sidelong glances. A mud-splattered young man slumped against a brightly animated ad probably wasn’t too uncommon a sight in Yokohama — but he wasn’t drunk (yet), or homeless (yet), or completely heartbroken (soon, but he would recover).

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8
Aug

The Movement of Your Hands

by Mitsui Matsuri (蜜井茉莉)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/24287.html)

Ren lied, always, about how they met.

“We bumped into each other the library,” she said to their new agent, as they sipped weak coffee on a cold April morning. “I dropped Malleus Maleficarum on her foot and broke her big toe.”

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5
May

Between Skin and Sky

by Mitsui Matsuri (蜜井茉莉)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/15483.html)

There was nothing to be done, after all.

Shibata took apart his camera, put it back together, and did everything all over again with his eyes closed for the hell of it. The three schoolgirls in knee-high socks stared blatantly at his boots — still muddy from Kashmir — and his long fingers, and giggled when he returned their stare. They looked impossibly young, nurtured as would hothouse flowers in their vicious, vapid self-importance.

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14
Feb

The Son Of Gods

by Mitsui Matsuri (蜜井茉莉)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/13124.html)

“My mother used to be human,” said Katashi, one night.

Yori blinked slowly, his pale lashes catching the gleam of firelight. “Ah. What is she now?”

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