Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ A Labor Of Love ❯ A Labor Of Love ( One-Shot )

A Labor Of Love

By, Jamie1317kast

 

A labor of love, that's what sensei said back when we were in high school, but I didn't understand until now…I wasn't the only one.

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Fruits Basket.

 

Rated PG-13

 

A Labor Of Love:

 

“ I hate this! I hate this project! I hate this class! And I can't stand it anymore, for the love of God!” I threw down the work in my hands violently and swiped my arm across the table, sending needles, bobbins, pins, and bolts of cloth onto the classroom floor.

Shigure sat in shock on my left, mouth agape, hand poised, still reaching for the scissors that had now skidded under the heater. “ Aaya, wh-what-”

I stood in one swift movement, kicking the stool, sending it crashing to the floor. Shigure winced, and I was vaguely glad that Hatori had been excused from the class early to do student council work.

“ I fucking hate this! If I have to sew one more stitch I'll-”

“ Or you'll what?” Sensei Nefer's calm voice pulled me back.

Her forever-blue blue eyes were narrowed dangerously as she approached with decisive steps. Shigure sucked in his breath, his blush and obvious crush on our teacher only served to enflame my anger.

“ Forgive him, Nefer, he-” Shigure started and stopped at her raised hand.

She bent down and retrieved the corset I had been trying to make. Her eyes never wavered from my face, and eventually I was forced to look away. “ Detention, I think, Sohma-san. Detention, in which you will finish this assignment.”

“ And what if I don't finish it?” I sneered, frustrated beyond politeness.

“ You will stay, until you are finished.”

The entire class stared at her, open-mouthed. There were still hours to go of sewing, cutting, fitting, sewing, refitting, beading, and then sewing for the final time and making the final adjustments. And I mean, HOURS.

“ YOU FUCKING BITCH!” I shouted, scrambling toward her. Shigure grabbed for me but he was too slow, Hatori was framed in the doorway, unable to speak or act against me.

Slap!

I froze, mid-stride.

“ Y-you…”

“ Detention. Tonight.” She met my wide eyes easily and turned away. The sound of the class getting back to work immediately filled the silence. Hatori was gone from the doorway and Shigure was quietly picking up all the crap I had spilled on the floor. She sat down at her desk and took up her needle and thread again and only looked up once. Shigure eyes flickered over to the desk, and then looked away again, blushing, her unusual blue-eyed gaze difficult to hold for long.

 

~~~

 

I was trudging toward the home ec room after my last class, trying to prolong the time until I got there. Hatori hadn't spoken to me all day, I expected as much, really. Shigure was oddly quiet as well, that also was expected.

Eventually, however, I got to the door of the classroom. My hand was on the handle when I heard voices from inside. Quietly as a…well, Snake, I guess, I pressed my ear to the cool door.

“…Can I…tell you something important, Nefer?” Shigure's voice registered in my mind.

“ Indeed.” The sound of the sewing machine ceased, and I could just see Sensei turning to give Shigure her full attention, which wasn't something she did very often.

“ I, well, I, that is, to say, I mean…can I call you by your fist name?” I was now listening intently, silently routing Shigure on from the sidelines.

C'mon, Gure-san!

“ Can you?” One could practically hear her eyebrow arching, ever so delicately. I suppose I could see why he liked her so much.

“ Yes! I mean…” Yes, he'd be blushing like mad by now.

A few, casual footsteps told me he was walking around behind her. She would still be facing front, only her eyes trying to follow him. I leaned forward, pressing my eye to the crack between the door and the frame. Yes, it was just as I had been imagining it. Shigure had his seductive face on, Sensei was leaning back in her swivel chair, letting him stroke her long, straight black hair.

“ Ryoko…” His lips brushed her neck, dropping all suffixes, all pretenses.

He turned her around to face him abruptly, placing a kiss so passionate on her cherry-red lips that a chill went up my spine. A few, silky strands of hair were wrapped around his fingers and she sighed contentedly as he drew away to meet her soft eyes. His look was questioning, wondering what would become of him, of them.

But before he could speak, she shook her head.

His eyes scrunched up, desperately. “ Please…”

“ No.”

“ But-”

“ No.”

“ You feel the same way, don't you?”

“ Yes.”

“ Than why not?”

“ There's someone else you love. It's in your kiss.”

He sighed, lower lip stuck out, eyes threatening to spill over. “ Not even one night?”

She thought for a moment, stroking the side of his desperate, young face. “ One night, then. But you can't tell anyone.”

“ Anyone?”

“ Anyone. It must never have happened. You understand? You are Japanese, you must understand what it would mean for me and for you if we were caught.”

“ Yes. I promise, I swear I won't tell a soul.”

Another kiss, so desperate, full of longing.

“ Tomorrow night?” Eager brown eyes.

“ Tomorrow night.” Soft, loving blue.

“ After school.”

“ Meet me here.”

“ Yes…Ryoko…” More kisses.

“ Shigure…”

Silence, then footsteps. I jumped back from the door, suddenly panicked. Oh no! I can't let him see me! I looked around wildly and spotted the janitor's closet. I quickly stuffed myself inside just as Shigure opened the classroom door.

I heard him humming ecstatically to himself as he made his way down the corridor. After a few moments I poked my head out. All clear.

I slid the door open. “ I'm here for my detention, Sensei.”

She was still sitting in the swivel chair, my work on the desk before her. She picked it up and held it out to me. “ Sew.”

I obliged.

Many hours later I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as she set down a can of Pepsi. “ Here. It'll keep you awake.”

I leaned back and stretched my arms out above my head. “ Sensei, why do you like to sew?”

“ Why don't you like to sew?”

“ Touché.” I flexed each of my fingers, and picked up the thread again. Almost done with the beading. “ It's laborious, boring, tedious, stupid…”

“ I get the point.”

“ Right.”

She reached out gently, much more gently than usual, and picked up the section I was currently beading and pressed it to her chest. “ There's something humbling about hard work, something gratifying, something wonderful. If you've ever made your own costume for a convention or a reenactment, you'd understand better. To make something that wasn't there before, that wouldn't have existed without you, to challenge yourself so that you grow with each piece you make, is…beyond words. It completes you, somehow. It gives you a sort of, purpose I guess.”

“ There may be times when you hate it, rip it all to pieces only to start all over again from the beginning, leave it unfinished for years, but somehow, each tiny bit that you make with your own hands leaves its footprint on you. You can't shake it, no matter how much you try. To hold up something that is wholly yours, which started as a sketch, an idea, and is now a dress, a suit, or even just a hat or a scarf, is an amazing feeling.”

“ Yes, Sohma-san, it is indeed a labor. But it is a labor of love.”

Ah.

 

~~~

Ring, ring-

“ Moshi moshi, Shigure's house.” His voice drifted over the phone line ten years later.

“ Gure-san! There you are!” I exclaimed.

“ Aaya! How are you?”

We exchanged the usual pleasantries for awhile until I got down, at last, to the point. “ Can you come over?”

“ Of course, my dear, when?”

“ Um, now?” There was a pause and I knew he could hear the unease that suddenly laced my voice.

“ Is something wrong?” I was touched by his concern, but there really was no time.

“ No…t really…”

“ I'm coming over.”

Click.

 

~~~

 

“ Aaya, why are you still at the shop, shouldn't you be getting ready for the Banquet-” He came through the door, shaking snow off his haori coat and stopped dead. The woman bending over my almost-finished final version of Hatori's New Year's kimono paid him no heed.

Her long, black hair was even longer than it had been ten years ago, though she had attempted to pull it back out of her eyes. “ You're missing a dart here,” She pointed to a silver area of the kimono. “ And…” Those eyes thoughtfully perused the cloth. And you really need to fix this hem, everybody's going to see these loose threads…Sohma-san, are you listening to me…” She turned and her voiced died in her throat.

Mine-chan glanced from man to woman and back again, “ I'll make tea!” and bolted from the room without a backward glance.

Shigure's eyes fell from her face to the brown-eyed girl hiding behind her mother's skirts. It was a long moment in which Insider and Outsider weighed one another, using the finest of scales and the best of memories. She turned to me, a smile on her face. “ It was nice to see you Sohma-san, I'm so glad that you…conquered your fear of needle and thread.”

“ Yes. Thank you for visiting, come back anytime.” I was hardly able to speak for holding my breath.

She started toward the door, taking the child's small hand. “ Come along, Clover-chan. We shouldn't keep Nana waiting.”

The door closed.

In the silence that followed, I fixed everything that could possibly be fixed on Hatori's kimono and then wrapped it in kimono wrapping paper and placed it in a box. My coat was on, the box was under my arm and I was almost out the door when I realized that Shigure was still standing there.

I waved a hand in front of his face. “ Gure-san?”

His lips moved, barely. “ Mine?”

I nodded. “ Yours.”

“ You sure?”

“ Very.”

There was an anxious pause.

“ You don't have to go to the Banquet, you know.”

…

“ Gure-san?”

…

…

“ Should I?”

“ Yes. Go.”

The next moment there was only my open door, the wind, the snow, and a new future. “ I'll be back after the third, Mine-chan!” I called and left the shop.

 

~~~

 

Hatori's emerald eyes glittered with untold wonder as he lifted the cover of the box. He gently held up part of a sleeve. “ This is…beautiful. It must have taken you weeks.”

“ Months, actually.”

He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “ I love it.”

I blushed a soft pink. “ `Twas nothing. Simply a labor of love.”