玻璃灰 - No Fin

版权声明：转载时请以超链接形式标明文章原始出处和作者信息及本声明
http://yumeniaini.blogbus.com/logs/18835620.html

The boy matured overnight, deepened like the golden maple
leaves with a tint of crimson after the first autumn frost, or
the rich blue sky with Orion glimmering in its silver light. 
Unknown was the exact moment when it happened, but
everything was changing as irretrievable as the river
dies into the sea.  So this time Inohara accepted it without
an attempt to ask, and was pinched a bit to see even the
smallest of Junichi's smiles, which were said later by the
others to be uniquely enchanting.

It's a glimpse of hidden wit, a hint of gentle trick, and
a shower of finely controlled cheerfulness that are lingering,
or sometimes, dancing on that slight quirk at the corner
of his lips.  And Inohara can see the tiny reflections of
himself on the glittering surface of that pair of pupils, which
grow dense like ink slowly settling in transparent water.

Yet it confuses him when all the different images of the same
face flash through his mind.

The bouncing spring of vitality gushing out so generously
from Bussan.
The roughly wrapped gentleness given with unexpected
prudence by Shunshin.
The talented concentration and lovely stubbornness of Ryuuji.
The sentimental and artistic air around Toru.
And the sharpness of Inoue that cracks the darkest night
like clean and swift lightening.

It may be that Junichi possesses one quality in each of them. 
And time has carved a calming fragrance and softening lustre
into every line of his body, and every inch of his skin.

So that you cannot reach the treasures safely buried
underneath with a simple effort, although you probably have
already fallen under the spell.

Most willingly, at the very first touch.

TBC...