Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Force of Destiny ❯ Mystery ( Chapter 5 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Fruits Basket, even though I was a really, REALLY good girl last year...*sigh*.

Chapter 5: Mystery

'Oh,' I think blearily, 'he hit me again.'

The fear that he intends to inflict further abuse has me struggling to open my eyes. I need to know where he is so I can defend myself. But, as no further blows rain down on my unresponsive body, I realize the sound of his haari sweeping the floor has faded away.

My heartbeat is completely out of control, though, going almost double-time, sounding its deafening tattoo in my ears. Every other beat seems to have twice the volume of the others, and I begin to wonder if I am having a heart attack. Panic can do that to a person.

With the immediate threat temporarily gone, I know my heart rate should be returning to normal. It isn't. 'It almost sounds as if I am hearing another heartbeat,' I think blankly.

Finally gaining enough hold on the pain bouncing around inside my head, I stir against the soft warmth under my cheek and lift my lashes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'I'm still dreaming,' I think dazedly as I gaze, confused, into a stranger's face. 'There is no way anyone has eyes that beautiful.'

The thought barely registers before I feel the floor beneath me heave slightly, as if it is inhaling a deep, startled breath. But floors don't breathe...do they? The floor takes another deep breath, and my brain finally begins to connect the dots: Soft warmth beneath my cheek, pounding heartbeat, breathing floor, and shocked lavender eyes, locked on my face.

'Not the floor, not a dream...maybe not even a hallucination. A person.' And not just a person, a man...I think. 'Has there ever been a man as beautiful as this? I'd kill for lashes that thick...'

I ruthlessly cut off my wildly digressing thoughts as reality begins to finally catch up to me. With a vengeance. I am suddenly acutely, embarrassingly aware that I am draped over a gorgeous man, our bodies in complete, intimate contact. I feel heat flood my face, rising in a hot tide until the tips of my ears are burning. But I cannot tear my gaze away from him, cannot force limbs heavy with the aftermath of adrenaline to obey my embarrassed need to move away. I don't think I want to move away.

'Shameless' taunts a nasty little voice in my head.

'Damn straight,' is the irreverent reply. My lustier side shows itself at the worst possible times. 'Have you seen him? He's in a class all his own-an elegant, refined beauty levels above such mundane labels as handsome or hot.' Unfortunately, I have to agree, which makes me even more aware of my current...horizontal...position, and how we are occupying the same space. I try valiantly not to notice the way his lean muscles feel under me, how his long legs tangle with mine, how comfortable his arms around me are... 'Stop it!'

Impossibly, I feel my cheeks burn even hotter. Fortunately, this finally gives me the boost I need to scramble gracelessly away in a flurry of fine silk and hasty apologies. I am too embarrassed to look him in the eye, especially as I remember how I mistakenly assumed he was the demon holding me captive in this sterile prison of traditional beauty.

I gasp as a sharp pain pierces my inner turmoil. Looking down in surprise, I see a sharp sliver of wood embedded in the pale skin of my palm. Absently yanking the offending article from my hand, I notice blood is already beginning to ooze around the puncture and drip onto the pale green fabric covering my legs.

'How did that happen?' I wonder, brow wrinkled in confusion. Looking around me for the first time since recovering from the blow that knocked me unconscious, I survey the litter of paper and splintered wood that is the remains of a fusuma. The debris is scattered from the verandah to the back wall of the room the mangled door opened into, illustrating the swath of destruction my fear and panic wrought. 'And my lack of control.'

Hanging my head in shame, I face my still-silent companion, and bow humbly before him. Guilt and despair choke my throat as the full impact of how close I came to injuring this innocent man hit me. Would I never gain full control of my abilities?

"I'm so sorry about before! I was frightened and jumped to conclusions. I thought that you were..." my throat closes again at the realization I am still within Akito's grasp. I cannot get any more words out-instead, a choked sob escapes and I bury my face in my hands.

Black despair rises in my chest in a tidal wave, drowning the brief spark of hope I had entertained before when I thought I may have actually found a way to escape the demon. I collapse in on myself, feeling deflated, defeated. All hope of saving my family seems gone.

I start when I feel a gentle hand clasp my shaking shoulder.

"It's going to be alright," a light tenor voice reassures me, "I'll do everything I can to help you." He rubs light circles on the back of my shoulder, soothing my turbulent emotions.

I lift my face from my palms, not caring that my cheeks are probably streaked with tears and blood from my palm. I can feel my chin still quivering as I stare into his face. The full force of his gentle compassion has me sucking in a quick, startled breath. It is such a shock to find such unselfish goodness in this nightmare house, all I can do is sit dumbly, soaking up the long-forgotten aura, watching the shifting play of energy that surrounds him. 'His energy seems familiar,' I muse, as I study the wavering patterns around him, 'It's almost like-'

My thoughts are abruptly broken when I feel my injured hand taken in a careful grip. My new champion is examining the puncture wound, the already congealing blood obscuring the entry point. He is bent so close to me, I can feel the stirring of air that is his breath. Involuntarily, I take a deep breath, breathing in the scent of ginger and mint, and something else, that rises from his pale skin. At my inhalation, he raises his head sharply, slender brows knit in concern, and locks his eyes to mine.

"I'm sorry," he breathes softly. I feel his thumb smoothing repeatedly over the center of my palm in a soothing caress. "I didn't mean to hurt you." He continues to gaze steadily at me, as if trying to figure out a mystery only I hold the key to.

I swallow heavily before opening my mouth to mumble some inane assurance that he has done nothing wrong. He is so close, I can see myself reflected in the dark pupils of his eyes. His breath stirs the fine hairs dancing around my face, sending a rash of gooseflesh racing across my arms. I shiver at the intense look of concentration in his eyes, completely mesmerized, drawn in to their dark depths and unable to break away. Not wanting to break away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a faint glimmer of light snaking its way toward him. Startled, I recognize the light as a ribbon of my life force, the energy that surrounds me in an aura, tying me to the universe. Automatically, I open my specially-trained senses to see the delicate tendrils of wavering light, and gasp at what greets my shocked eyes.

Tentative threads of blue fire are reaching out to entwine with the equally reaching pale purple and gold that surrounds the man directly opposite me. I have never seen anything like this before; it seems as if our auras are stretching, searching for each, sending out questing tendrils of longing and, finding that looked-for other, locking in a graceful knot of togetherness and belonging.

Unbidden, Grandmother's words came back just then with sharp, startling clarity:

"You must open yourself completely. If you hold back when dealing with the force that connects all living things, you will in turn be held back in all other areas of your life. Especially love, for the force we harness, life force, is love."

'Now, why did I think of that, just now? I hope no one is trying to tell me something, because I have about all I can handle right now without worrying about...' I can't even finish the thought, it is so far-fetched.

He is still holding my hand. Still seemingly absorbed in my eyes while he continues to caress my injured palm. I notice he has not moved away, but seems to almost be leaning closer to me. I can feel the warmth of his breath fan my cheeks and smell the subtle scent of his skin. My gaze studies his expressive eyes, glides down his straight nose, takes in the leanness of his cheeks and the thick, dark hair brushing them before settling breathlessly on his mouth.

Somewhere, the rational part of my brain is screaming, 'Snap out of it! What the hell is wrong with you?!? You know nothing about him, he may be part of Akito's schemes for all you know!' but I ruthlessly silence the voice. I'm reckless that way.

I haven't been able to tear my eyes away from his mesmerizingly beautiful face, mere centimeters away, and I continue to be entranced by the glow of our merging auras. As it bathes us in a gentle, albeit invisible to him, radiance, I watch, heart thundering, breath suspended, as his lips part...