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Flame is part of fire, and fire Kimiko knows well. This burning, this tingling that sparks the outside of her soul, she knows. This is a type of fire she has felt and lost before. She wants to welcome it.
But it comes at the wrong times. A singe when Shadow’s hand brushes hers in a showdown , a simmer when Shadow stands too close. A sting when a backhanded compliment is thrown her way, a smolder when their eyes meet. Kimiko feels her fire is wrong.
She wonders if Shadow can feel it, too. Darkness is the element of the object of her affection, but Kimiko knows that this flame is the sort that can burn without light. She starts looking for it I her rival, the tell-tale flicker that mirrors her own. She sends touches of her own; a friendly nudge here, a playful poke there. Compliments are returned. When their eyes meet, she holds it, and smiles.
Months of this pass, and still Kimiko is no closer to an answer. Her approaches to Shadow are met with confusion (though not spurned). She is starting to resign herself to the possibility of her flame being alone, a single spark without a twin. But still Kimiko lets it burn. It scalds and steams and crackles of the edge of her soul, harsh, but familiar. A part of her. She feeds it, with more stolen stares, more stealthy brushes. More thoughts. She lets it roar into a furnace, the heat stifling and deep, and relishes every second.
Fire is her element, after all.