Title – Seize the Masquerade
Disclaimer – Kimi ni Todoke isn't owned by Ibuberu.
Author Notes – A collection of ten varying pairs, because there is more to KnT than Kazehaya and Kuronuma. But of course, I'll start off with a stereotypical bang because they are the cutest couple in the manga. And imma screw them over with this, hurr.

1.
Characters/Pairings – Shota, Sawako (KazeSawa)
Rating – K+
Genre – Romance, Drama

this is how the curtain falls

Under the trees, in the places of the canopy where the gracious sun streaked through, she stood with transparent diamonds in her eyes and a pinkish flush hovering over her dollish cheeks. Mourning over a summer that would come to pass and possibly weeping over a horde of disrespectful classmates. It was hard to tell, no one knew her that well enough. But the temptation to actually achieve just that was increasingly hard to chain down. Striking images of a yesternight with starry skies and the distinct smell of wild grass were never so raw and embellished in a mind. Perhaps a hug would suffice; a kiss would be too sudden and surprising. But observing her eyes in all their haziness, even the outstretching of arms was forcibly decided against. How the mind's conscious conquered all in the end, it was puzzling and frustrating, unluckily at the same time.

Her hand was velvet soft, burning with tears and trembling with trepidation. Her pale fingertips each represented a toasty, breeze-filled day of the summer long-by, and the scent of sunflowers and daisies mingled in the nonchalant air. Her glassy eyes betrayed no emotion stronger than wrenching anguish, it was sharpened enough to pierce. The way her body quaked with release and the fashion the water sluiced down her pallid cheeks was more than enough to turn day into night. Bluebirds crooned in the trees overheard, mocking, laughing, and arrogant spectators to a scene that was no doubt something rehearsed – it fitted neatly into television soaps. Except that she continued to cry, and that only her one hand was held high in place – she cried and cried without an expectant shoulder, without a secondary hand to wipe her face dry, until all the tears were gone and she could drink cold coffee again.

Her hair was parted neatly and precisely into two stunning braids. Displaying so much within those dark, brunette curls, a sense of shy exuberance and daring bounced off her frame as she vaguely attempted to punch the front of her shoe into the plodding soccer ball. It was a new hairstyle, and oh-so refreshing in its first foray into a crowd of watchful eyes – if anyone else bothered to notice her, that was. It was sad, really, if no one else could see, because it was her way of exclaiming how she was coming out of her shell, changing ever so significantly bit by bit. Her elegant tails swayed with each sleek movement of her determined body, gleaning beauty under the boasting sun. The endearingly innocent; oddly but artistically transfixing image; surely it deserved so more than a laugh and a smile, but that was the only thing that she had received at the end of the period.

Her lips were so purely natural, with her cheeks putting the shade of fresh roses to dire shame. And her hair, oh, her hair was wonderfully pin-straight and akin to a veil of dark lavish. Her uniform pressed in order, and her desk all neatly set up for the lessons, model and eager in her seat. Her cascading hair framed her face perfectly, too perfectly. And the truth – as she smiled timidly straight into two brown eyes and mumbled a hushed hello – stabbed repeatedly like something too dagger-like to be just a puppy-crush. Now, how about a hug, a kiss, a confession – surely something would suffice, else, everything might get caught up and one would be late and miss the chance of a lifetime. But a mind reeled back, hesitation digging deep and pricking brown eyes.

His knuckles whitened.

He answered only just a fakely cheered good morning, and that was how the story prematurely ended.