KSPuff wrote:As for me, the only Spare pairing I thought of is:
Kenji X Miki - You may know the old saying: "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer." She would be easier for him to approach given her slender appearance combined with his near blindness and her more guy-like aloof approach to life. Maybe he could slowly start befriending her in hopes of getting feminists secrets and then it blooms into something more?
I think it might have worked. Some time ago, I wrote this. It's from Kenji's point of view and takes place a few years after the events in the VN.
“You’re the Fist,” I say quietly, surprising myself. I turn away, look out over the city. “You’re the best,” I whisper. I’m not sure whom I’m talking to anymore. But when I look up and see her curious smile, I know that in some way she is pleased.
“Damn right, Kenji,” she says. “What happened to us? We’re awesome now.” She tosses long black hair in the air, cocks her head at me, offers me her fist. My knuckles and hers meet. The fire in her eyes sears through my glasses.
Three weeks together. They are indeed ‘awesome’. She is like my brother, my sister, my friend. What she isn’t, is my lover. Nobody will ever believe that, I guess. She’s all heat and allure, like a jumpjet in a jumpsuit. She has a hunger in her. I can’t help but respond even though I don’t know why.
We learn to be friends without benefits, as she says. She’s both a test and a benchmark for me. Somehow, she’s learnt to keep that balance well. We almost fall, always survive. She shows me the great secrets of her Nagasaki. We tell the stories we’ve not dared tell other people.
On another hill, on the last day, we kiss goodbye. Her breath is warm, moist, powerful with years of trained lung capacity. My left hand lies idle on her side, her ribs under my palm. It’s just below the swell of her right breast, her dark nipple obvious beneath the thin yellow silk of her halter-top. She holds me—her right hand, my elbow, the fading heat of summer blooming around us. She crooks her left arm around my neck.
This is about two people conquering themselves, maybe their fears. They’re learning that they don’t need to be strangers if they’re not quite lovers. Learning, perhaps, that they can love without giving it all away. Is there such a thing?
No, nobody will ever believe it. When we part at the train station, she has a naughty, mysterious smile on her face. Perhaps, I have one too. Neither of us knows that it will be years before we meet again. Yet there’s a bond that won’t easily be broken.
And yeah, Misha's basically a spare.
