Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Force of Destiny ❯ Moonlight & Cherry Blossoms ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Fruits Basket, even though I asked Santa for it...*sigh*.

Chapter 2: Moonlight and Cherry Blossoms

A small sound, no more than the faintest suggestion of a rustle, breaks into my reverie. I suddenly realize it is very late, the moon shining full and bright onto the small courtyard garden outside my room. The fusuma is open, illuminating cherry trees, revealing the delicate, otherworldly glow of sakura in full bloom.

'Akito?' I think, already feeling a small flutter of panic. Fear begins to congeal in my gut, a cold, heavy weight, like a living, writhing mass of snakes. Taking a deep breath, I still myself, preparing to face his next move with calm.

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'He will not break me, not while I have my gift from her.' It is like a mantra, a soothing balm that covers my heart and slows its rapid pace. I hear nothing for a short space of heartbeats. Perhaps it was simply the spring breeze rustling the tree branches. There are petals floating in the air, raining down on the ground like a blessing and sending the scent of spring dancing around me on the warm wind. 'Akito has me more spooked than I realized.' The thought is not a welcome revelation. Settling myself more comfortably against the wall inside my deeply shadowed room, I absently tug the collar of my yukata more firmly around my neck, and continue to gaze at the moon-washed beauty of the landscape.

Again, the faint rustle, a small sweep of sound, like fabric sliding along the smooth wooden planks of the verandah reaches my ears. I stiffen, not moving, not breathing, thankful for the concealing darkness of my position. Undeniable now--I know it is not the wind in the trees. The sound is nauseatingly familiar; I heard it through most of my growing years. 'And in my nightmares,' a small voice reminds me. I feel a cold trickle of sweat slide down between my shoulder blades. The night seems suddenly chill, and I have to struggle to keep my breathing from degenerating into painful gasps.

Then a vision floats into my startled line of sight. Without realizing I take a sharp breath in and hold it, absolutely transfixed. 'A ghost? Or a dream?' is my startled thought. Perhaps just a product of my imagination. 'I've been alone in this room too long. Two months. Who would blame me for conjuring up this...this...'words fail me. 'Goddess...'

She is wearing familiar, traditional honke garb, but that is the end of familiarity. White skin, like pearls, like fine porcelain, reflects the glowing glory of the moon. My fingertips itch to stroke down the curve of her cheek and discover if it is as soft as I suddenly imagine it to be. The graceful lines of her body are concealed by her kimono, but the long, willowy shape of her limbs is suggested through tantalizing, shifting shadows on the rich fabric. She hesitantly glides more fully into view. Her face is turned mostly away from me, but the full glory of her hair cascades down her back to her waist in thick, undulating waves. I cannot immediately recognize the color, perhaps a result of the moonlight, or perhaps because I have never seen anything like it before. 'Strange, considering many of the Juunishi have unusual coloring.' This thought gives me pause. 'Could she be a Souma?' The possibility is disappointing. I have never laid eyes on anything so...ethereal. This is what convinces me she is a product of my isolation and long-denied libido. 'Gods, I'm becoming Shigure.' I shudder and stifle a self-depreciatory chuckle.

My movement must have alerted her to my presence. I see her stiffen and gasp, whirling around to face me, sash ends flying around her like startled birds, eyes wide and frightened. She has her arm out in front of her, palm out, fingers splayed as if to ward off an attack. A faint shimmer seems to dance around the long, slender digits, like heat waves in high summer. Her other hand has flown to her throat, clutching at the neck of her kimono, fisting the delicate material in a bruising grip.

She seems terrified.

She seems real.

I sit transfixed, gaping at her in surprise. I can clearly see her face, bathed in the light of the moon, framed by the wild, silken tangle of her hair, and the beauty of the moonlit garden fades to insignificance. Somehow, I remember to breathe again, and the scent of lilacs and cherry blossoms drifts to me, drugging my senses. I take another deep breath, inhaling the light, clean fragrance, half closing my eyes in the simple pleasure of knowing even this much about her. Another breath, and I unconsciously shift slightly forward, moving as if pulled to her, inevitable as the tide...

Her eyes widen in an instant of fear, then narrow into a fierce expression. Determination is stamped into every graceful line of her features, her lips firming, pressing together in fierce concentration. Her outflung hand lifts more fully toward me, light seeming to coalesce into a loose cloud of wavering pale blue fire. 'What the hell is going on? Maybe I am dreaming, after all?' is my startled thought. Then all rationality flees as she parts her lips to speak.