Reshiram’s slim human form was damningly effeminate, but it fit him perfectly. In it he was a slip of a legend with angular hips, eloquent legs taut with muscle, and a Swana’s neck who moved like he was dancing something where touching the floor was for lesser beings. Willowy wrists wielded a conductor’s hands like Cyrano de Bergerac brandished words; long fingers that flew about in a symphony of cleansing flame and draconic power.
He was the poster boy of potent beauty in whichever form he chose to take, and he knew it well.
However, sometimes he went a bit overboard. His favourite accessory was a corset laced so tight that his waist seemed to disappear when he moved fast enough. He wore it underneath ceremonial wear, his sleepwear, and sometimes even his armour.
I thought it took away from the clean lines and poised finesse. It was far too complicated with rivets and lace and ribbons tied taut that hampered the fluidity of his movements. I always had this urge to rip it off him. He was confining himself for something that didn't even matter.
Yet today, hoo boy, today that was gone like so much dust in the wind. While normally, anything Arceus decreed I mentally placed alongside gum on the bottoms of my favourite shoes and sand in my bathing suit, it made me think she might have some good ideas beyond creating all of us in that head of her's. She had finally decided that the regulation battle suits she had designed were mandatory for training matches from now on as they showed where a legend had been hit with stripes of colour, making finding problems easier. My favourite part about them was that they were very, very tight.
As Reshiram trained with Giratina, for the most part he moved far too fast to be anything but a blur of white and flame as he dodged blunted slashes of murky miasma from the stationary black pillar that was the lord of antimatter. When he finally stilled to have his position corrected with admonishing taps of Giratina’s staff you could see the way it showcased every damn bit of his svelte form. It made me feel the need to take a plunge into one of the snow banks outside the hall.
The skin-tight material only served to exemplify what was amusingly a swimmer’s build crossed with a dancer. As he was coached into taking a wider stance with nudges to the inside of his ankles I could see how the wispy hair that had escaped the confines of his bun was plastered to his damp face. He panted, out of breath, as the training match slipped past the one hour mark. Swathes of black over his illiac crest, collar bone, thigh, and shoulder blades marked failures he was surely going to gripe over when the both of us were done for the day. The muscles of his thighs shook from keeping his position and my eyes snuck a little bit higher as the suit seemed to highlight his-
With a quick swat on the bum, Giratina declared the training session over for today. I skittered for the shower as Reshiram came towards me with a look on his face like he had ten billion complaints and I was the only person he could voice them to. He would have to wait until after I had frozen my ass off for that.