They'd faced each other before, many times, but this was always her favorite way to do it: empty-handed, hair unbound, naked as the day she was born. She watched Juri, watched those lovely, thick curls as they bounced across bare shoulders, and readied her imaginary foil for a feint. She flicked her wrist as if to disengage, and as Juri swung her own arm down to block, Utena ducked beneath her swing, cut in, and slapped Juri's large breast with her open palm -- "Touch."
no subject
on 2009-12-03 08:03 am (UTC)