Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Force of Destiny ❯ Armor ( Chapter 20 )
Disclaimer: I don't own Fruits Basket or its characters, but a nameless cursed dragon left his stethoscope at my house after playing an exciting game of 'doctor'!
Chapter 20: Armor
As I close my eyes, thinking of the logistics of my plan, rehearsing the steps I will need to take--concentration is key--I feel myself drifting, relaxing. Even now, knowing that Yuki only thinks he is in love with me and I must give him up, I cannot help but want to rebuild those flights of lovely fancy where we are happily in love; for a moment I forget that 'happily ever after' was never meant for me. Until my sister is free of the curse, my life has but one purpose, one goal, one destiny. Until that aim is reached, my fate will never deviate from its current lonely path, no matter how hard I wish it otherwise. It is my curse, after all. I can feel a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of my kiss-swollen lips as sleep finally claims my over-worked mind, enfolding me in dark warmth and pulling me into blessedly dreamless slumber.
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The soft scraping sound of shoji panels sliding open wakes me from the dark cocoon of sleep, pulling inexorably at my conscious mind until I blink my eyes open. Mmm. Stretching languidly, arms over my head, I relive the delicious memories of hours (?) ago. Yuki. Silken skin over lean, hard muscle...warm breath mingling over soft, kiss-swollen lips...I close my eyes and try to drift back into that hazy world of delicious recollection, but the unobtrusive, yet insistent sound of tabi sliding over tatami prevents it.
With a start, I bolt upright as I remember why someone would be in my room. A woman, one of the few who are always around to attend me whenever the demon demands my presence, has arrived to help me dress for tonight. For dinner, when *she* will be here. Tohru. To face Yuki for the 'first' time.
Glancing out the open shoji, I notice with a start that the sky is not as bright as I had anticipated. The deep magenta of approaching dusk has bled into the blue of late afternoon, the sun having already disappeared behind the high wall surrounding the compound. The sun would set soon. Why would Akito wait so long for dinner? Usually, he prefers to dine at five o'clock, precisely. Is it simply because of company that he has delayed the meal? Somehow, I doubt it. The Souma head always has an ulterior motive for his every action, and I doubt the timing of dinner is any exception. I have a feeling that I am not going to like his reasons, and a tingle of premonition skates down my spine, as if to confirm my fears.
Squaring my shoulders, thought, I recall my resolve to face Akito down, and damn his threats and violence. He can do nothing further to harm me, cannot afford to harm my sister, and I will do all within my power to protect Yuki. A feeling of invincibility washes over me, and I feel suddenly lighter, almost liberated. The only heaviness weighing me down is the niggling doubt that my plans will fail. If that happens, then Yuki...No! Shaking my head sharply, I tilt my chin up in defiance, refusing to fall onto the path of despair and self-doubt. I will not fail. I cannot afford to. I will prevail against the monster who inhabits the deceptively frail body of the Juunishi master.
When the servant (though I gather she is a Souma family member) paces over to me, softly reminding me of the time, I rise to my feet, sighing lightly. So, it has come to this, I think. Battle. I feel a twisted kind of smile, sad and regretful without hint of happiness, form on my lips.
"Yes," I agree, "time to put on my armor", is the dry comment that escapes me. An equally arid chuckle adds a touch of irony and self-depreciation to the words.
"E-eh..." the woman agrees, uncertainty stamped across her pretty face. She has no idea of the extent of her master's malevolence, only that he is a demanding taskmaster. All the better, I suppose. No need for more people than necessary to become wrapped up in the ugly truth of his existence.
She holds up the neckline of the under kimono for me, and I obediently slide my arms into the sleeves, giving tacit consent for her to begin the complex, tedious process of dressing me in a manner that *he* deems fit. He has even sucked the joy out of this, I think bitterly. On any other occasion, I would truly enjoy watching my gradual transformation from modern nudity to traditional elegance. Layer by layer, I observe with detached curiosity as ties and belts, clips and stiff pieces of fabric-covered cardboard are wrapped, knotted and stuffed around me. Prompted by my accomplished attendant, I alternately lift and lower my arms, turning as directed, enduring tugs and pulls as the outfit takes shape.
"How is it," I mutter under my breath after suffering one particularly vicious tightening of an underbelt, "that such a simple design as a kimono evolved into such a tortuously evil method of wearing it?" What I wouldn't give to be wearing a simple yukata--one robe, one obi, no frills, no fuss.
And yet, I think as I look at the finished creation that cannot possibly be me, there is something mysterious about the feeling a woman gets when harnessed into one of these things. Sure, I may not be able to walk like a human without the kimono flapping open in a completely immodest way (I hate that I feel like my knees are glued together--screw that 'ladies take tiny steps' crap), but something about the way the collar pulls away from me in the back, exposing my sensitive nape...not to mention the elaborate 'butterfly' decorative knot tied in the obi, tilted at a seductive angle so one glittering, elaborately patterned end rises to peek over my right shoulder...well, it makes me feel undeniably feminine. And I'm going to need all of my weapons at my disposal, natural and supernatural, for dinner--and beyond.
As it seems to be expected of me, I twist and turn, posing in properly demure and artistic ways in front of the pier glass. Even through my rising nervousness, I cannot help but admire the beauty of the kimono. The expensive, heavily embroidered silk of the outer garment screams elegance...and money. The deep, black background provides a smooth field for cranes and chrysanthemums, heavy with silver and gold thread. The red and white collars of my under kimonos peek out around my neck, painstakingly aligned in perfect proportions. The obi matches the black backdrop, but sparkles with jewel tones of red, green, blue, and echoes the silver and gold of the kimono pattern. As stunning as the sparkling threads of the material is, though, the unrelenting black has had the unexpected effect of bringing out my unusual coloring in stark contrast. My skin seems impossibly white, as if bled of color, although, I readily admit that may simply be a matter of nervousness. But my hair...
Even though the thick, heavy mass has been put up in a simple, sleek twist, ends tucked in neatly, the vibrancy of the shade cannot be dimmed by the confinement. I reach up to pat the upswept style, noting that, though it adds unwanted weight to my head, making me fight to keep my neck straight, it does reveal the sinuous curve of my neck. Well, I think fatalistically, it's not like Akito hasn't shown his lust for me already, and I'll have the added benefit of knocking Yuki out! Deciding to concentrate on Yuki's presence, instead of the demon's, I suffer to have a few last-minute tugs and pulls pressed upon my long-suffering self. I draw the line, however, at a hair decoration. I say that it will dig into my scalp, causing a headache (which I'm already well on the way of acquiring), but the truth of the matter is, I need to resist the temptation it represents. If I knew I had a sharp, pointy object buried within my hair, I would be too tempted to turn it into a weapon and use it against Akito. Not that it isn't a supremely appealing, even justifiable, thought, but flying at the family head and stabbing him repeatedly in the eye with a golden chopstick adorned with a bunch of glittery, tinkly spangles is not the route I need to take in order to fulfil my ultimate plan. But it would be satisfying.
I let the cool breeze waft over my already overheating skin, drinking in the sight of the springtime garden bathed in indigo twilight, starshine, and cherry blossoms. Peace washes over me, and I take a deep, calming breath, opening my senses to revel in the power of life force, of chi, radiating from the living earth. Setting the vision firmly in my heart, a focal point for the power rising in my soul, I turn my consciousness to the tasks ahead. I have no illusions that Akito will make any of this easy on me--in a way, I'm counting on him being just as ruthless, just as vicious as ever. His own irrationality and anger provides an excellent distraction, and should mask at least part of my activities. But I will be walking a fine line between inciting his rage and controlling it to protect my loved ones.
With one last look outside, the traitorous thought that this may be my last view of the world filtering through my mind, I turn gracefully on my heel, feeling girded for battle in fine silk armor as black as the soul of the man I have vowed to stop.
Armor for battle, indeed, for I have declared war on Souma Akito.
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Okay. There it is...it sucks, I hate it, but I promised I'd put it out if I couldn't fix it. Should be getting to the really good parts next chapter--you know, Yuki meets up with Tohru, Akito gets to torment everyone, etc., etc., etc.
Sorry for the long delay, but ff.net wouldn't let me on all last week, and my muse threw a temper tantrum when I argued against starting an Inuyasha fic. Unfortunately, I couldn't hold out against the screaming banshee, and had to give in when she drug Sesshoumaru before me and he actually *begged* me to write a fic about him. *gasp* *swoon* *DROOL* So, I managed to post it, "Yume", in the 15 minutes ff.net allowed me on Sunday before crashing again. *sigh* So, check it out if you're an Inuyasha fan, and let me know if I should continue it or not. But, don't worry! I have every intention of continuing this fic, and it will take precedence over Yume on my update schedule (yeah, like I really have a schedule...I just wanted to sound like I'm organized about this).