Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Beginnings ❯ Chapter 12 ( Chapter 12 )

Disclaimer:

I don't own Fruits Basket.

I'm madly sorry once again for my lateness in updating. I have an excuse though! Really I do. I've been working like a sweat shop slave! Every day, and half the time double shifts. Both the manager and ass't manager are gone on vacation, and there's only me and one other girl to juggle their hours plus our own. I want to die! I hate my job now, and I used to love it.

Oh and my other excuse will make you guys mad, but I've been watching Witch Hunter Robin. Oh my god you guys! It so completely rocks. Go out and buy it on ebay- or download it. It so completely is great! Oh and another really really good title to watch is Infinite Ryvius. It's the best anime I've ever seen. Seriously though, its beyond good. And not too well known, but the graphics rocked, as did the plot and characters. You end up so wrapped up into it, you forget reality and think its reality.

Think Lord of the Flies meets anime. Throw in a bit of sci-fi and kick ass music, plus amazing characters- did I mention amazing characters?- and it's the best anime I've ever seen. Ever.

Ok and on with the fic.

Beginnings

By: Carpetfibers

Chapter 12

The dreams had been growing in frequency, the haunting images of a shadowed face drawn in darkness melted into the discordant screaming of forgotten words. The insatiable need to know would overtake him, and down the wretched mental hallways he would race, hands seeking and eyes searching. A voice that felt more than familiar, that felt known, would whisper in subtle rhythms, in a beat just short of perfection. Blindly, he'd reach for the vaporous hand or dive for the transparent arms, each to disappear within contact. In these dreams, a vibrancy would rise within him, energizing his blood, and bringing life to his thoughts. In the first few moments of waking, that strength would drive his earth colored eyes open and for that second, he'd know! He'd know this hidden truth, but-

Ah, but then, the dream would recede, its edges vanishing as the late morning tide and there'd be nothing left but a blank wall before him and his limp arms. Once again, he would retreat in search for the things of his dreams and that name and voice that stood just beyond his reach. A known face would interrupt these searches, or known voices would entreat him to eat, dress, bathe, or move. These people; his family. The few moments that he'd revive and glance into the reality of the world would show a strange sadness in their eyes, a breaking sorrow.

That same sense of knowing would resurge; one vital thought arriving foremost: the undeniable, un-ignorable, and completely true reality; it was a basis that ran subliminally below his thoughts, an unconsciously self trained brain washing; it was cognizant memory filled only with gaps of broken links; he felt beyond all else that something had been stolen, something that all of them- his family- held; and he believed as only a newly born faith allows one to believe that it was this stolen thing, this snatched memory, these vanished images and erased words- that it was this that held him broken.

He naturally concluded then that there was only option. He must retrieve what had been stolen. And thus the retreat.

The door had been left open, allowing a sliver of predawn light into the shadowed room. That slice of warmth slashed across his cheek, cutting into two grotesque pieces, each dead and separated from the other. The jagged line that felt that breath of light brightened, even if only by a trick of light, expressed the entirety of his subdued emotions. He sought light; he sought the spark that moved his life.

What had been taken?

"Momiji. I've brought you your breakfast. You should eat it before it gets cold." Hatsuharu placed the food laden tray in front of the statuesque boy who sat staring at the whitened wall. With one hand, he straightened Momiji's collar- it belonged to one of his usual costumes, a bright blue affair with ruffles going down the cuff. But the color appeared subdued by the boy's obvious lack of spirit. Haru's straight back folded as he sprawled gracelessly on the floor, his eyes intent on Momiji's still face.

"She wouldn't have liked to see you like this. Where ever it is that you've run away to, Momiji, she would want you to come back."

He watched the lines that creased above the rabbit's thin lips, praying silently that the lines would curve into a familiar grin, followed by a loud shout that it had been a great game- the best silent game ever! But the lips didn't turn upwards, and the pale brown eyes didn't focus. As usual, Momiji was lifeless since Hatori's little mercy erasure.

Just thinking about it was enough to stir up Hatsuharu's anger. He could care less about weighing pros and cons, or justifying the means by using the ends or whatever reasoning Hatori might have used. To have done this was unforgivable. Haru was used to being sought out as the protector of the younger jyuunishi. Even when Yuki had lived in the main house, it had been to him that Kisa and Momiji would run to. And he didn't mind it in all honesty; it was rather refreshing, and comforting. There had never been any shading of the fact that Haru was often considered the brunt of jokes among the older jyuunishi, his zodiac having long been considered the easiest to manipulate, and by far the simpleton of the twelve.

Still though, this well known joke made no difference in the eyes of the like of Momiji. If anything, it had made Haru more accessible, as if they could find a like mindedness in this ridicule that brought him to their level. Since Yuki and Kyou's sudden departure with Tohru, the three youngest members had joined ranks within the walls of Haru's small apartment on the grounds. Kisa had been forced to leave the sanctuary of her mother's warm kitchen and welcoming arms by Akito's summons, so she went to what she considered second best, her 'older brother,' Haru's slightly colder rooms. Hiro, too had found himself ousted by the commandeering and followed suite with Kisa. Momiji had been taken in on Haru's own incentive. He no longer trusted the doctor to do what was in Momiji's best interest.

It was his job to protect them from anyone and anything, and he was taking this responsibility quite seriously.

"We could use you being yourself again. I'm not able to make Kisa smile like you can, and even that doctor needs you to act alive again. I know that you're hearing everything I'm saying. You aren't in a coma. You aren't on life support. No, the only the thing you are is afraid. Momiji, you have Kisa worried. I'm worried…"

His voice trailed off, the dull monotone barely edged with the weariness that he felt to his bones. Tohru was just one person in Momiji's life; why is it that he should give up all semblance of living just because one person was missing? Was she that important? Haru had liked the girl, no lie. She had brought a lightness to most of their lives; plus having an outsider know their secret had been refreshing. But he doubted having her erased from his memory would bring on such a total collapse.

"My problem is that I can't understand how you're acting."

Something in the younger boy's lack of response stirred his normally lax emotions. Why wasn't he responding? Was this girl that important? Was Tohru really that crucial to his life? How aggravating…

"Momiji. Look at me." Haru picked up the boy's pale hand, but it only fell back to his lap. Again, he picked up the limp hand, and once again, it fell to his waiting lap. He stared at the hand, each of its normally plump fingers stiffly flexed into a curl. Not a single digit moved; no slight tremors, or even the occasional flinch. Nothing. Absolutely, positively, nothing.

It was making him angry.

Roughly, he yanked Momiji's lax wrist and left it in the air. For the third time, it fell; the rabbit's eyes neither blinked nor showed any sign of the motion having occurred. Staring at the boy's impassive face, something snapped. The personality switch that happened every so often came, and the anger and frustration that had been stirring underneath his skin surfaced and struck out at the only visible source: Momiji.

Angrily, Haru lifted him from his perch on the floor and dragged him towards the bathing house. Momiji followed mutely, stumbling twice on the stoop but never voicing a complaint. Not even the harsh rush of cold air on his bare skin was enough to stir a response. This only spurred Haru on. Too soon, the smooth wooden walls of the bath house were closed and the two were alone. With cold precision, Haru stripped the rabbit down and threw him into the bath. Picking up a bucket of cold water, he poured it over his head, his yellow locks smoothing down against his white cheeks.

Again and again, he poured the freezing water until finally Momiji began to shiver, his fingers pruning in the moisture.

"Wake up."

Another fall of water.

"I said, wake up."

And another.

"Wake up."

Another.

"Wake-"

The shivers intensified, pale lips growing purple in the cold.

"-up."

The repeated litany continued, each word patterned with another bucket full. The point of reason had passed, and the only thought running through Haru's mind was that this was the only way. The only way. He couldn't let Momiji stop living; he wouldn't let him just give up! He'd shock him back into life. Yet again, he lifted the worn wooden edges of the water bucket, pouring out the frigid water onto the rabbit's head.

"Momiji, just wake up!"

He dragged Momiji back out of the basin and seized him by the shoulders, staring into his lifeless eyes.

"Wake up!" he screamed, shaking his shoulders.

"Damn it, Momiji, you can't just quit! You have to stop this!"

The rage boiled over and before he could regain himself, his fist flew forward and connected with the boy's delicate jaw. Beneath his hand he felt the dull crunch of bone and knew that he had gone too far. 'Black' or not, he had gone too far. Horrified, Haru dropped Momiji and backed away, his eyes too aware of the blood on his hand and the blood smeared across Momiji's face.

"Haru ni-chan?" Kisa's fearful voice whispered hesitantly from the doorway. Haru whirled around, trying to shield her from seeing the scene that laid out on the floor.

"Ni-chan? Do you know where Momiji is?" Her voice trailed off as her yellow eyes took in his bloodied hand and followed the crimson lines to the floor. Those same eyes grew large and all fear faded away as she fell to Momiji's side, taking his battered face into her lap. Gently, she tried smoothing away some of the blood with her skirt. Ignoring his nakedness, she focused on soothing his hurts. Confused and a little wary, she returned her unworldly eyes to Haru's face, her older brother, her protector.

"Ni-chan…who did this?" her eyes still held trust, a trust in him that made Hatsuharu wish himself as controlled as his elder cousin.

He hung his head, trying desperately to fall away from her steady gaze.

"Ni-chan? Did you do this?" Again her plaintive little voice broke away at him. Damn it! Why did his emotions do this to him? Why did they drive him to hurting those he cared about? Why did he do this to Momiji?

And a voice not too far from Kisa's own answered softly from within. Answered as it always did.

Because. Just because. There's no other way; so don't fight it. Just be honest.

"Oh ni-chan…you shouldn't have." The gentle reproach that she faced him with was more than enough to drive him back under that thick skin of defense that softened all blows and smoothed out all worries.

"He can't continue like this, Kisa. He'll only anger Akito and then get hurt even worse. I had to wake him up."

She didn't flinch at his monotone. It was to be expected. Her ni-chan was human just like she was. And like her, he would need to cry sometime. If now wasn't the time, then…

Under her steadying hands, she felt Momiji stir slightly. More than a little surprised to see spontaneous movement coming from him, she wrapped her padded jacket over his waist and continued wiping away at his bloodied jaw.

"Momiji?" She whispered his name softly, watching his face for some sign of acknowledgement. Yet again, there came the slightest stir. Was it her imagination? No, his hand was moving! He was moving on his own!

Slowly, that hand that had been so unresponsive but an hour earlier rose to cup his pale cheek. Those lifeless brown eyes came into focus and it was into Kisa's warm eyes that Momiji finally awoke. Her hand fell to her own mouth as she stifled her gasp. Haru had done it! Momiji was coming back!

"Kisa? What's wrong?" His voice came out raspy from disuse, and he winced in pain from the jabbing sear that went through his jaw. Kisa could only shake her head; no words would come.

"Kisa? Why are you crying?" Momiji's worried voice was enough to drag her from her shyness. With a stilted sob she wrapped her arms around him and enveloped him in a hug. A little surprised by the gesture, he responded none the less. A hundred questions went through his mind- the main one though being what on earth was he doing naked in the bath house with a bloody jaw and Kisa soaking wet?

Outside of the double doors, Hatsuharu allowed himself a moment of peace. Something had had to give. It had hurt him more than it had Momiji to do what he did. Hard love and all that. Glancing back into the room, he watched as Kisa told Momiji of the past weeks' silences and worries between wiping away tears. He finally snapped the door shut and walked back towards his waiting bedroom.

Wonderingly, Haru glanced up into the gray sky, overshadowed as it was by the dreary clouds of late winter. Maybe he had been a little quick to judge the doctor.

Maybe.

**********************************************************

The coughing had grown worse. Despite Kyou's avid attempts to muffle the sounds, each of his hacking intakes of breath sent another line of worry to Tohru's brow. But no matter what she tried, he refused her help. He wouldn't take any medicine, and due to the snow, she couldn't ask Nayoko for help. Calling a doctor was out of the question. When she had suggested it, the idea had been flatly turned down. He wouldn't even eat her soup unless it was at one of their regular meals.

She was growing frantic with worry, the anxiety wearing away at her like no illness could.

Again though, she had to at least try.

"Kyou-kun, maybe if you slept closer to the heater-" she suggested before he cut her off.

"No."

"Then let's add an extra blanket. If you're warmer maybe your cold would-"

"No extra blankets."

"Then drink some hot tea. Mother used to give it to me-"

"I said no!"

"-when I was sick," Tohru continued stubbornly. The glare she was being given did little to dishearten her. She was determined to get Kyou better, whether he wanted it or not.

"I'm not sick, Tohru. Its just a cough. Everyone coughs- it's a completely normal human action. Do you always assume someone has pneumonia if they cough? If I'm sick from anything, its from being in the same space as that guy for so long." Kyou crossed his arms, switching his glare towards Yuki who returned it calmly.

"If there wasn't two meters' worth of snow outside our door, I would gladly escort you outside. I've been wondering if its entirely true about cats always landing on their feet. These cliffs are so tempting." He sipped calmly from the tea Tohru had given him. Looking up, he smiled at her. "Its very good, Tohru. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied automatically, a little put off by the quick change in tone.

"The radio weather report said that there should only be one more day of snow. Once it stops, plows will be sent to clear out the roads and houses." Yuki placed the cup down and returned to reading his horticulture book. Kuma-san had given it to him, suggesting future works by the same author. If anything, being snowed in had given him ample time to peruse the book.

"Yes…" but her attention was back on Kyou who had returned to glaring. It didn't matter how much he denied it, there was no doubt that he was sick. His cheeks were flushed and just in the past three hours she had seen him go from shivers to sweats at least four times. But why was her refusing any help? Was it because it was she who was offering it?

Biting back a sigh, she took off her soup from the main burner and added another piece of wood to the stove, the keen warmth flooding her face. If what Yuki heard was accurate, then there would only be at the very most another two days to deal with being stuck in the house. Once she could leave, she might be able to convince Nayoko to come and deal with Kyou. He would listen to her, Tohru was sure.

A little comforted by this, she returned to her bed of blankets, snuggling down into their warmth. Her needlepoint had been finished days ago, and already she was making a new one, this time of an ocean scene. Soon, all of her energy was focused on fixing up her tight French knots along the waves' ridges.

Kyou finally released the breath he had been holding. Fighting off Tohru's ministrations was growing harder and harder to do. She was just so damn persistent. And of course, she was completely in her rights. He was, after all, sick. But he couldn't stand to have her touch him, be near him. In his weakened state, he didn't trust himself. He had almost been tempted to confide in Yuki, if only to get her out of the house and away from him. But then this storm- it had only grown worse. The past week had been hell for him.

First of all, cold weather had never been the most ideal of conditions. It brought out the aches in his joints, and made him cranky. But coupled with captivity; it was too much. The growing dischord between his opposing wills had heightened as well, increasing the number of black spells. Too many minutes were missing from his memory, and already today he had 'awoken' from two of these lost times.

Wearily, Kyou closed his eyes, allowing a different type of blackness to coat his vision. Sleep was, by far, the quickest way to pass the time.

***************************************************

She more sensed the sudden closeness then actually felt it. Followed by the sensation came a soft flutter of hot breath against her throat, and then cold fingers pressed to her stomach. Her eyes flashed open, the re-entrance into a different darkness blinding her. But then vision returned and familiar amber eyes met her own. Kyou had that look again, that unfocused expression that had been finding frequency in his eyes of late. Those red eyes of his dimmed at finding her own, and his hand tightened its hold on her hip.

"Kyou-kun, what's wrong?" Tohru whispered, her own breath caught in her throat. His touch was so alien, so rare that even in this wanton grabbing she felt drawn.

He pressed his lips against her hair, his fingers falling to trace down her stomach, each finger tip tickling at her sensitive skin. Her gasp was stifled by the sudden change in his lips- they fell to her own in one smooth motion, all at once hurried, yet infinitely patient. An uncanny sense of déjà vu tainted at the edges of the emotions running through her. This same feeling of rightness and wrongness; this same feeling!

His warmth drew away, as did his hand.

"Kyou-kun?" Her voice sounded too loud in the false silence left by his sudden removal. She caught his eyes once again, the haze that had clouded them now gone. Instead, he stared at her with mixed confusion and worry.

"Kyou-kun?" she asked yet again.

"What just happened? What did I do?" The urgency in his voice worried her far more than his eyes had. Did he not know? Had he been sleeping, and just acted in his sleep?

"Nothing," she lied. "You were talking in your sleep; that's all."

The darkness blanketed his face, and she missed what it might have said. His dark shape slumped over, and Tohru released the small breath she had been holding. Easing back into her pillow, she stared at the ceiling, counting the outlined wooden beams.

Yuki and Kyou. Kyou and Yuki.

She felt as if her little world was tumbling around her head, and she had but the small piece above her protecting her from the bold expanse of the sky and the future. Some kind of ominous atmosphere clung to them- to Yuki and Kyou- a tragic air. They knew something she didn't, something they didn't want her to know. And it was this that tore at her heart. What was so horrible they couldn't tell her?

Were they going to leave? Were they going to do what everyone else had done? Her father, her mother, all of her family- everyone that she had ever loved, ever trusted- all of them had eventually left. The Sohmas' had their curse, but at times she imagined that she had her own. Silly and perhaps melodramatic, Tohru still felt that each time she opened her heart, a larger piece was stolen away.

Like that story: Momiji's story of the traveler who gave away everything he had, even his life. As bittersweet as its ending was- even if it ended with the traveler happy- she didn't want to be alone in the end.

She didn't want them to leave. Not them. Not the two whom she loved so much! For all that they claimed she had given them, they had given her what she so desperately wanted. Yuki and Kyou were her family. Her family. And for all the selflessness she could and would show, when it came to the end, she was ultimately selfish. She wanted them by her side, always. That's why she couldn't choose. It'd break her heart to have one of the two men she had come to love leave.

Strange. Or maybe better worded, ironic. The wooden panes overhead with their rough edges and bitten seams were nothing but scrap when alone. At any lumber yard, each beam would be bypassed, turned over, and eventually tossed for chips. But here in this house by the sea, braving all elements of weather and time- in here each beam held purpose and value. Alone each was nothing, but when coupled, when joined and entreated, they made a roof. They made protection; and warmth.

That's me. And that's Kyou, and that one Yuki. Nothing when alone, but so much more when together. So much more. Ne, Mother? I'll keep this family happy. I'll make them happy. I promise.

She closed her eyes, allowing her breaths to match those of the two surrounding her. No matter what their worries or fears- she'd protect them. She'd be like this roof and its worn beams. Not snow, not rain, not wind, not even the blazing wretches from the sun would break her. They were her family. Her family.

I promise.

But even the sweetest of promises can break with the coming of nightmares. Nightmares of either reality's making or of fear's. Fortune has a way of returning its blessings and curses threefold. Whether it be that certainty or one of a soul's own making, reality cannot be escaped. It'll return as it always does with the present, and it is then that promises are tested, faith tarnished, and dreams lost. But even Pandora's box held hope. The gods always leave that tiny piece of a possible future to hold onto, grasp tightly and renew those promises of the past, rebirth the deadened faith, and recapture the dreams dredged in the muds and rains of time.

So sleep is all well and good. It staves off the present, carries in the future, and allows for moments more of a world created solely from the images and paintings of the mind.

Sleep well.

For now, sleep well.

Tomorrow promises something different.

Author's Notes:

Okay, you guys. I know that ending was insanely melodramatic, but lord help me, I hated this chapter. I hated its guts! I couldn't stand writing anything after Momiji's little awakening, but I really needed to get this in. More foreshadowing and all that.

Again, many apologies for the tardiness of this chapter. What can I say? I'm a horrible person who should be shot a hundred times over.

On with my thanks:

Here's a huge thank you to my reviewers. You guys are so wonderful with your comments and encouragement. I never thought my little story would be this well liked