This is beautifully written, and almost a little bittersweet. To be honest, I've always been a fan of your writing, Lonesomeness, ever since you used to write under the name Dour Morose.
I think my writing's just plain average, not beautiful, but thanks for the comment. 
Something beautifully written is so much more than this. Writing as such presents an essence of beauty beyond reason. Just a line of such writing is meaningful and conveys feelings, true and pure. It makes the readers pause for a moment, as their world and time stand still. The readers would take a deep breath and sigh briefly deep in thought, wondering how words together in any phrase or sentence could ever be so beautiful, as though it itself were a vision—a daydream, where they could skip away to escape even if only for a while, dreaming away in scenes, calm and sweet. . . Such a beautiful writing and words can actually be found in your personal text—"Moon of the Sea." How beautiful that is. . . Imagining the line "moon of the sea" and its beauty wholly. I noticed your personal text when I was lurking before, like a month ago, and did find it to be something ought to be admired. . . 
Oh, thank you Lonesomeness.

You about made me blush!

But, I don't think you give yourself enough credit. In particular, I've always loved the scene that you wrote between Tenchi and Ryoko in your story "Raspberry Softly",
"Ryoko dodged Tenchi's swing across her head, and he turned his sword around to block her swing to the side. Her blade
dropped from her hand, and she tackled him to the ground.
His sword flew aside.
The sun's light blurred his eyes.
'Ryoko?'
Her blushing face came closer to his, while he rubbed his eyes."
Even though it is prose, there is a subtle lyrical quality to your writing that conveys so much with so little words. I can imagine a light, coral blush playing across Ryoko's face and her golden eyes dancing in anticipation of stealing a kiss from Tenchi. It makes me sigh, winsome for a lover of my own. I especially love the way you end the story,
"As Tenchi left his room, a drawing of Tsunami and a pen rested on his desk.
Curtains swayed softly by the glass screen."
When I read this, I became nostalgic for summer days from my childhood, when I would fall asleep in the late afternoon while the breeze blew the curtains over my bed.
Sorry for taking so long to answer this, though.

(I just started a new job and I've been a little busy with work lately).