Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Force of Destiny ❯ Research ( Chapter 12 )

So sorry about not updating--my computer got fried in a storm. (I've learned my lesson about surge protectors!) Anyway, here's the next chapter. Please forgive me for making you wait!

As always, reviews are received with a smile!

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Disclaimer: Takaya Natsuki owns Fruits Basket. I dreamt I owned it once, but when I woke up, she still owned it. But I like to pretend Yuki owns me!

Chapter 12: Research

Tugging her around so her back is to me, I pull her into the circle of my arms, settling her against my chest and resting my cheek on her hair. "You don't have to tell me if it's too painful, but I would really like to know. I want to help you," I tighten my arms around her a bit in a gentle hug, "as you have helped me." I feel her take a breath, preparing to say something, no doubt protesting my words. It's funny how I know this without seeing her face; it's something Tohru would have done, I think, and that's why I know. So I squeeze her a little tighter, silencing her words, "Please, just tell me. You don't have to go into detail if you don't want to. Just the bare necessities is okay."

Her head dips, silky hair slipping past my skin with the movement. I can't resist taking some of the soft strands between my fingers and rubbing, reveling in the smooth, cool glide. As I patiently wait for her to begin, I continue toying with the fiery locks, fascinated at how they seem to cling to me, as if seeking out my touch, craving it as much as I crave hers. Threads of copper fire twine around the paleness of my fingers, and I find myself aching for the sight and feel of the erotic contrast in textures and color against other parts of my skin. She shifts a little, and I bite back a groan at the unconscious, unutterably frustrating friction she creates. I pray desperately for patience, for distraction, before I do something...a feral grin curves my lips...wicked. 'Oh, gods, help me...' Miracle of miracles, someone finally answers my prayers: she begins to speak.

'Hallejuha...I think.'

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"Well, I came to do research. I am trying to find a way to break the Swan Girl curse, like all those in my family who came before me. You see, I am the product of generations of research and archiving and practicing and planning--selective breeding, I guess you could even say. The Swan Girl's father escaped with his cursed daughter, and set the pattern for all the following generations by constantly traveling, studying all things arcane, searching for a way to break the curse. From generation to generation, age to age, my family has scoured the land, gathering power by marrying others with 'magical' abilities, tracking down and researching every possible rumor and lead to help, all to no avail. Finally, almost two hundred years ago, my ancestors came to Japan, following a series of interesting leads gained in China. My great-great-great grandfather trekked to a small, isolated shrine in the mountain wilderness of the West, where a very powerful miko lived. It was said that she had an exceptional talent, and special gift, with curses, so he went to plead for her help."

She pauses here, seemingly gathering the story in her mind before launching it again, "Just like the fairy-tale that defines my entire family history, they fell in love, had children, blah, blah, blah," the bitterness is back in her voice, creeping into the words, coloring them with raw discontent, "only now, instead of passing on one curse to their children, they passed on two. While the miko was powerful indeed, she was unable to break the Swan Girl curse. She cast a spell of her own, though, a 'gift' allowing for her blood to increase in power over successive generations, thus enabling one of her descendants to finally break the curse. The eldest daughter would still be cursed to be a swan, but the next daughter in line would inherit amazing abilities--and the terrible burden of finding a way to break the plague of the family." Another pause, longer this time, as if she is lost in her thoughts, before she whispers softly, "So you see, I am not burdened with the curse, but am cursed to bear its burden." I remember those words passing her lips once before.

"So, you came here to the honke after you heard about the Juunishi curse?" I try to sound as neutral as I can, hoping to move her mind from the weight of her responsibilities. I feel her nod again.

"Yes. I read in the archives my family has kept at the temple a reference to the Juunishi curse, so similar to our own, and there was a mention of the Souma clan suffering the stigmatic consequences of some great hatred. I thought to gain some insight into how your curse works--maybe if I can find how to break it, that would reveal how to break my sister's affliction. So, I requested a meeting with Akito." She blows air out through her nose, a soft, wry snort, "I was so naive. I thought he would help me. He seems so delicate, fragile, polite--beautiful. I was completely taken off guard, not suspecting how deep his fear and hatred of outsiders is." A shiver runs through her body, memory of his wrath unleashed. "After I told my tale, he asked why he should help an outsider. I pointed out that by helping me, he would be helping all of you--if I discovered the way to break the Juunishi curse, which is what I hoped to be able to do, then I would gladly do so for every member affected.

"He asked me for a day to think it over, invited me to stay here as his guest. Of course, I accepted. But I didn't know that he had decided to try and exploit my powers, not to break the curse, but to control all of you. He wanted to perform experiments with my abilities, even brought Hatori-san in for some 'demonstrations'. When I finally balked at his demands, he ordered Hatori-san to erase my memory and send me on my way."

"Hatori tried to erase your memory?" I interject, "But, you remember everything--how is that possible?" A sudden thought occurs to me. "He didn't disobey Akito, did he?" If he had, I promise myself I will hug him next time I see him. I still resent that he was the one who took away Tohru's memory of me, though it was my wish and the only thing that would protect her from Akito's wrath. Even so, I know his unexplained ability to lock away memories is a source of great pain, shame, and sorrow to the brusque man. With every mind he manipulates, I can't help but sense that a small part of him withers and dies.

"No, he truly did try to erase my memory, although I could tell he was very distraught about it. He apologized before hand," she explains, voice gentle with compassion and sympathy. I grit my teeth a little and remind myself my arms are wrapped around Kaji, not the dragon's. 'What is it about his depression that draws females to him like a magnet? It's just sick.' "But it didn't work on me. My defenses are too strong to be breached by the amount of power he possesses. I could see everything he did, though. I understand in better detail than he does, I think, exactly how his power works; it's the same basic principle as my abilities, just adapted for a different purpose."

I really, really don't like the idea that they have something in common. 'Snap out of it!' my rational side barks, 'You're being a possessive, jealous ass.' 'But I can't help myself.' my Shigure-lusty side whines. Not a good sign. Back to business.

"So, if you still retain your memories, then how is it Akito is keeping you here?" This is the critical issue for her. I can feel how tense she has suddenly become, willowy body drawn taut as a bowstring, quivering with suppressed rage and fear. Her breath escapes from between her teeth in an angry hiss, pushed out by the force of her emotions. I can feel the heat of her body begin to rise; can almost see the bright blue of energy crackling along her hair, her arms, gathering around her rigidly splayed fingers.

"He found our where my temple is--hell, I told him myself, all he had to do was ask, trusting fool that I am. After the mind wipe didn't work, he sent someone to my home, where only Grandmother is to guard it, and stole her. Now he's holding her ransom." Each word is a study in pain; hard, staccato syllables throbbing with bitterness, piercing the air---testament to the tearing, rending death of her once-upon-a-time naivete.

"Stole who? Your grandmother?"

She shakes her head sharply, a violent, incisive movement of negation. Her hands are now on the tatami, nails clawing the woven fibers like a tigress digging into bloody prey. "No." The single word stabs into the heavy silence of the night, roughly bitten out, laced with too much misery to express within so tiny a word. A world, a universe, of agony and self-recrimination are held within the next two words.

"My sister."

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Sorry it's so short, but it seemed like a good place to stop. I'm so evil! BWAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, evil laugh is experiencing technical difficulties...please stay tuned.

Tsukitani