Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ History, Like Love ❯ Human Remains ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

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"History, Like Love"
a Fruits Basket fanfic by Ysabet MacFarlane (ba087@chebucto.ns.ca)

Chapter Two: "Human Remains" [2/6]

*********

Waking up in his own bed, as if nothing had changed since he'd left home, was
one of the most surreal moments of Haru's life. He turned his head just enough
to look out the window, squinting against the sun. After so long in Akito's
house, where the overhanging roof kept all the rooms faintly shadowed, the
brightness of his childhood bedroom struck him as glaring.

It took him another sleep-blurred moment to realize that some of the glare was
due to the advanced age of the afternoon, with the sun hanging low and peeking
over the rooftops of the nearest houses.

The headache that hit when he sat up almost knocked him right back down again;
he swore at the pain, pressing a hand to his temple as he forced himself to his
feet. He was almost naked, stripped down to his underwear, and--as he
discovered with a grimace when he cautiously turned his head to ease the tension
in his neck--in desperate need of a bath.

"Haru?" He jumped at the sound of his mother's voice outside the door. When he
made a vague sound of acknowledgement, relief tinged her response. "I thought I
heard you up. How do you feel?"

Haru gave up trying to decide whether to find something to cover himself with
before bathing, and slid the door open. "Fine. Bit of a headache." An
outright lie and an understatement--the unfamiliar stillness at the back of his
skull was less of a gnawing emptiness than it had been, but he felt
disconcertingly _light_, as if untethered from the earth. Light, and alone.

"Are you hungry? You've been asleep since yesterday--" She took in his state
of near-undress at a glance, reminding him that she had undoubtedly been the one
to undress him in the first place, although he couldn't imagine her managing to
carry him to his bedroom. He wondered vaguely where his father was.

"I'm not hungry." He shook his head for emphasis, faintly unnerved by her
solicitous behavior, and immediately wished he'd kept still.

"I was frightened yesterday," she said quietly. "You came home so suddenly,
looking like--well, so upset, and then you fell asleep after--" She looked away
with a tiny frown, as if steeling herself before turning back to him. "I kept
checking on you, I thought... Was I dreaming?"

"My curse broke." Saying it aloud sent a shiver through him. "So I came home."

"I really held you."

"Yeah." Haru hesitated, and slowly put his arms around her. "Thanks, Mom."
She was taller than Rin, a foreign warmth pressed against him in an embrace that
felt nothing like what he was used to. Holding Rin meant her body nestled
perfectly against his, always hungry for closeness; hugging Kisa was like having
a small puppy in his arms, quiet and alert. This was something else entirely, a
cautious touch that held more strangeness than comfort. "I think I should go
wash," he mumbled, trying to chalk his sense of awkwardness up to the grimy feel
of his own skin.

"In a minute." His mother's whisper was strained with the effort of not crying,
and a pang of guilt went through him as he remembered the way she'd tried to
comfort him when he'd arrived home. His childhood longing to be held had been
eased when he and Rin began to offer each other physical intimacy, but his
mother had spent her life expecting to hold any children she bore.

"Okay." He tried to relax, to remind himself of the way an embrace should feel,
and after a moment it was his mother who stepped away. "Sorry," he said, not
entirely sure what he was apologizing for, and wishing his headache would go
away. *Probably from crying like that,* he told himself, rubbing at his eyes.

His mother's expression when he blinked down at her was impossible to read.
"What is it?" he asked.

"Who were you holding like that?" she countered, a slight line of concern
creasing her brow. "I understood when it was awkward, but just now you hugged
me like--" She cut herself off, blushing uncomfortably, and Haru stared at her
in confusion before he realized what she meant.

"Rin," he said, and the sound of her name sent a spasm of pain through his
chest.

She nodded slowly. "That was my first thought."

"Rin," he repeated, chafing his bare arms against the deep cold that was
expanding from his bones. "Oh, god, I..."

"You were sleeping with her?"

"How d'you know?"

A rueful smile crossed his mother's face. "I may not be the most... attentive
parent, Hatsuharu, but I know that's _not_ usually how young men hug their
mothers."

It was his turn to blush. "That's the only way I know how, 'cept when I pick
Kisa up."

"With Isuzu-chan, hmm?" She sighed, but before Haru could bristle, she shrugged
with obvious resignation. "I don't really want to think you're old enough for
that, but I guess it's too late to try telling you what to do."

"'Old enough'," Haru muttered, stung to honesty. "It's been two years,
Mom--kinda late to be worrying about it now."

She winced, and then smiled faintly. "I suppose you could do a lot worse. That
girl's got a mouth on her sometimes, but if a few sharp edges are the worst
thing about her, she turned out better than the family had any right to expect."
There was a long enough pause for Haru to take in her unusually forthright
assessment, and then she added, "Last night, you said you'd made a mistake...?"

Haru flinched, then tried to steady his voice. "N-no, it's a lot worse than--"
The pain came thundering back into his chest, as sharp and maddening as the day
Rin had broken up with him. "Worse than 'a mistake'. I have to make sure she's
okay."

"Isuzu-chan's left the Main House. That's what I heard from Satsuki-san, and--"
She cut herself off at the look on his face. "No one knows where she is, Haru,
but that's what everyone's saying."

"Have you talked to her parents at all?"

Her lips tightened. "No. They don't seem too concerned."

"Big surprise." Haru tugged thoughtfully at the studs in his left ear. "If
she's really gone..." Fragmented pieces of an overheard phone conversation
played in his head, Akito's voice shaking with feeling. "If Akito had her sent
away, her curse might have broken too. Must have. I can't be the only one, can
I?" He closed his eyes, remembering a dream of blood and disintegration. "I'm
gonna take a bath and go talk to Tori-nii. Kureno mentioned him when he and
Akito were fighting about Rin."

He turned toward the bathing room, almost itching to be clean and _doing_
something. His mother's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Haru?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you do to break the curse?"

Haru took a slow breath, remembering the feel of Akito clinging to him; somewhat
belatedly, it occurred to him to wonder whether there were visible nail scores
on his back or sides. He'd always been acutely aware of any marks Rin left on
him, had liked touching them later.

"Nothing."

**********

Haru debated calling Hatori to make an appointment, but finally opted to walk
over unannounced. The door to the office was closed, so Haru sat down to wait,
flipping aimlessly through a book and tuning out the occasional sounds of
voices--Hatori, a woman, a child.

By the time the door opened, he'd dropped the pretense of reading, and sat with
his elbows resting heavily on his knees, staring out the window. He'd dressed
carefully before leaving his parents' house, choosing sleek, all-black clothes
and intricate silver jewelry as his armor. Sifting through his collection had
reminded him of visiting a shrine or a graveyard, all the trappings of a life
he'd deliberately stepped away from. It felt like a ritual: taking off the
rings he'd constantly worn for so long, slipping new ones over his fingers,
exchanging the simple earrings in his lobes for small spiked hoops. Rin had
chosen them for him, six tiny rings that caught her eye one day, but he'd rarely
worn them--her habit of toying with his jewelry made truly sharp edges an
annoyance, and after she'd left him, it had been hard to wear things she'd
picked out.

Looking at his reflection when he finished had been eerie, like seeing his own
ghost trapped behind glass. He could almost imagine Rin slipping up behind him,
her arms warm around his waist as she ducked her head under his arm, her soft
laughter sparkling in his ears.

*Please be okay.* The silent litany ran through his head in a constant loop as
he made his way to Hatori's home, and continued as he waited. *Even if you
can't forgive me, please...*

The first person out of the office was a girl he only vaguely recognized--maybe
five years old, just one of the next generation of Sohma children being raised
inside the family estate, growing up breathing air full of rotting secrets. She
looked him up and down with open curiosity until her mother steered her away,
murmuring polite phrases of greeting.

"Come in." Hatori waved him into the office, and said nothing else until Haru
was seated again, with a locked door between them and the rest of the world.
"Is this a medical situation?"

"Tell me where Rin is."

Hatori grimaced, turning to look out at the sunset. "I was afraid it might be
that. Akito was rather upset when we spoke last night."

"I don't care. I only want to know about Rin. Did Akito have you send her
away?"

Silence stretched out between them, thick and heavy. "That's correct, yes."

"Where is she?" Haru repeated, haunted by déjà vu; the answers he'd received the
last time he'd demanded them, and his own response, stirred the beginnings of a
renewed headache.

"She's attending a college out of town."

"She--" Haru frowned, trying to process the reply. "When did she apply? Is
anyone there with her?"

"I am in touch with her regularly, Hatsuharu. She's fine, and I think that's
all you need to know."

"I want to see her."

"That's not possible. Akito--"

"I don't _care_!" Something twisted painfully in his heart, and he shoved it
down with a silent curse. "Akito can't control me anymore, Tori-nii. I need to
see Rin."

"It's not a good idea." The grim set to Hatori's jaw left little room for
debate. Haru switched tactics with only a moment's hesitation.

"Is Rin cursed?"

Hatori's stern mask cracked open for a moment, revealing a glimpse of numbed
exhaustion. "No."

"My curse broke." Saying it a second time was almost as strange as the first;
saying it to another Jyuunishi felt like a betrayal. "I don't know how, I
don't..." Haru bowed his head, still unable to deal with the feelings it
stirred in him. "But if Rin's free, and Akito can't bind us--tell me where she
is!"

Hatori's usual bedside manner was blunt and unhesitating; the careful kindness
in his tone triggered a fear Haru hadn't even known he had, before the words
sank in.

"Isuzu doesn't remember you, Hatsuharu."

The shock ran through him like a wave, crushing the breath out of him and trying
to suck him down into depths he could barely imagine. "W-what?"

"I had my suspicions about the reasons for her 'accident' last year, but I
wasn't sure until Akito told me what to--"

"Rin can't have... that doesn't make any sense!"

"If the two of you loved each other, I'm doubly sorry."

"If we--" Haru gasped for breath, holding onto the arms of his chair for dear
life. "No, you mean--wait, you mean you erased her memory of that much? Like
you did for Kana-san?" He spoke Kana's name without the usual reluctance,
desperate to make sense of things.

"No," Hatori corrected, still with unbearable gentleness. "Not your
relationship with her. You. Among other things."

"That doesn't--you can't--" He didn't know when he'd gotten to his feet, pacing
feverishly within the confines of the office. "_How_?" Rin was everywhere in
his memory, woven deep into the fabric of his life long before he'd ever begun
to name his feelings for her. Childhood games, skinned knees (and her mother's
annoyance at the trace of blood on the lace frill of a favorite dress), rainy
afternoons telling ghost stories... His memory of her kisses, of the way she
whispered and stirred in her sleep, was too vivid to imagine forgetting, but
there was so much more, running so deep, that he could only see himself
unraveling into a shadow without her.

He stopped by the window, shivering violently, and stared through his shadowed
reflection into the dark. "What else?" Behind him, Hatori hesitated only a
moment before reciting the short list of Akito's instructions--so few words to
sum up the loss of an entire life. Haru rested his forehead on the glass,
trying to grasp it.

"You murdered her."

"Not true."

Haru pivoted from the window, fists clenched hard enough to cause real pain in
his palms. "Because Akito said so, you fucking _murdered her_, you might as
well've shoved a gun in her mouth--" Black sparks flared across his vision,
blurring the world.

"Isuzu is happy." Hatori stood and closed the distance between them, anger in
his eyes. "I speak with her regularly, and she's _happy_. By the time I did it
she'd been hospitalized for months, too unstable to leave, just waiting to die.
I gave her a new life."

"She's not RIN anymore."

"No." The flat agreement hit him like a punch to the gut, slipping past his
defenses. "But Sohma Isuzu is content with her ordinary life. If she'd been in
any state of mind to choose, she might well have chosen this." Hatori rested a
hand on his shoulder, holding his attention. "And you are in no position to
rebuke me for obeying Akito's will. Go home."

Haru nodded, stumbling backwards to get away. "If Akito ever asks you to do
anything to my memories, tell _her_--" he threw the pronoun out deliberately
"--that someone will die if you try it."

**********

Both of his parents were home when he returned, waiting for him before they ate
supper. Haru got one whiff of the food--enough to recognize that he would
ordinarily find the smell of it appealing--and his stomach turned over. "I
can't eat, Mom, sorry--"

"Did you have supper already?"

"No." His parents exchanged uncertain looks while he wondered if Rin had lived
with such constant nausea, or if her sickness had felt more like outright pain.
He'd learned to tell when she was hurting, but had never convinced her to talk
freely about it.

His father cleared his throat to catch his attention. "Your mother says that
you're no longer cursed."

"It's true." Haru straightened up, only half-conscious of the way his posture
changed with defensiveness. "I'm sorry, but I think I'm just gonna go lie
down."

"You don't seem terribly different," his father said, watching him with a hint
of skepticism.

"I'm not magically going to be the normal son you expected," Haru replied, too
on edge to ignore his father's obvious discomfort, or the reasons for it. "Can
we talk about it tomorrow?" He turned and fled down the hall towards his room
before they could argue.

Inside, he was unable to hold still long enough to lie down. Nervous energy
burned through him, keeping him moving in a way he was unaccustomed to when not
in the grip of his temper. "Rin," he whispered, as if her name were a charm to
stave off the bleak horror of what had happened to her. "Rin, I'm sorry."

In the end he resorted to the calming rituals Kazuma had taught him as part of
his karate training, forcing himself to breathe and balance while her name
stayed on his tongue like a living mantra. The moon was high by the time he was
able to sprawl on his bed without immediately getting up again.

**********
"round here we talk like lions but we sacrifice like lambs
round here she's slipping through my hands"
--Counting Crows, "Round Here" (August and Everything After)
**********

When he next opened his eyes, Rin's presence was the only giveaway that he was
dreaming. "Hey," she said, smiling the wistful, lopsided smile that bore no
resemblance to the expressions she showed the world. She sat cross-legged by
his head, casually leaning forward in a way that gave him a clear view down the
low neckline of her shirt. "Miss me?"

"So much," he breathed, extending a hand to touch her.

"Don't." A quick gesture stopped him as she lay down, leaning on her elbow.
When she brushed her hair aside, a gleam caught his eye; he rolled onto his
stomach for a better look, and saw two small earrings glittering in her earlobe.

"Are you haunting me?" he asked, watching the way her muscles moved when she
stretched.

"You have to be dead to be a ghost, don't you?"

"Aren't you?" A hint of a smile was her only answer. "If I touch you, will I
wake up?"

"Maybe." Rin let her head loll back on the pillow, exposing the graceful lines
of her neck and collarbones. Desire washed through him, a clean, pure hunger
that eased the anguish of what he'd done with Akito.

"Forgive me," he breathed, drinking in the sight of her, praying he'd remember
her smile in the morning. "I did everything wrong, lovely girl, and I'm sor--"

"I know." She moved closer and cupped his cheek in her palm, leaning in to kiss
him. "I love you."

He woke with the warmth of her mouth lingering on his lips.

**********

Rin's absence haunted him as he tried to rebuild his life. Discussions with his
teachers made him opt to finish the year's work with his tutor; far-off plans to
return to school for twelfth grade looked good on paper, but did very little to
help restore any sense of normalcy.

After Hatori, he told none of the other Jyuunishi about his new, unsought
freedom. Yuki and Momiji watched him anxiously when they thought he wasn't
looking, sensing the change without recognizing it. Haru's mind adjusted to the
stillness--the absence of the _other_ spirit that had shared his skin, the
silence where the faint echoes of the other Jyuunishi had sounded--leaving only
a vague, erratic sense of isolation.

Yuki was the only one he told about Rin, leaving the older boy helplessly trying
to think of comforting words. Otherwise, he spoke of it to no one--not the
adults, with their fading curiosity; not Hiro, whose eyes still flashed with
bitter anger when their paths crossed; and not Kazuma, whose innate kindness
would be even less bearable.

Haru still dreamed of her, but never with the calm clarity of the first time;
the memory of one soft kiss was outweighed by troubled sleep full of betrayed,
accusing eyes against which he had no defense. "It _was_ my fault," he told
Yuki, one afternoon when he ventured over to Shigure's house, and Kyo and Tohru
were out of earshot. "All I can think of is needing to make it better, make it
up to her."

"What's today's philosophical topic?" Shigure stood yawning in the doorway,
disheveled from either sleep or habit. "I wonder if Tohru-kun feels like making
something breakfasty to go with supper?"

"Unforgivable sins," Haru said bleakly, not rising to Shigure's mock-hapless
expression.

Shigure snorted. "That's easy--go into a monastery and pray all day, or fall on
your sword... there're centuries of tradition. Option A means you can shave
your head and not worry about girls hugging you, but all that chanting sounds
awful." A huge yawn interrupted the last word. "It's too early in the day for
that kind of talk."

"It's almost five o'clock," Yuki muttered, and Haru made an agreeable sound as
he vaguely registered his friend's annoyance, but if any more words were
exchanged they made no impression on him after Shigure's.

********

*Fall on your sword.*

The idea rooted in his mind slowly, part of him calming as he took it in. Rin
stopped appearing in his nightmares, and if she never returned in quieter
dreams, he reasoned, it was no less than he deserved. He touched his eyes more
and more often over the days that followed, staring at the world as if he'd
never seen it before. Everything he'd seen for the last few months, every
moment, Rin had paid for with her silence and despair, and finally with her
self. Pressing his fingertips down on his closed lids, with the thought that it
was his own hands that would settle what little of his debt could be paid, was
strangely soothing.

Revisiting parts of the estate where they'd spent the most time
together--secluded areas, mostly, behind gardens and flowering hedges--occupied
much of his time for a few unfocused weeks. Sometimes he imagined he heard her
voice, the ghosts of their childhood and innocence whispering together. If
Sohma Rin was dead, while her body breathed and continued without her, it seemed
reasonable enough to think that the lost part of her would return to those
places.

He avoided the Cat's room for a long time, unable to bear the idea of it, but
eventually his feet carried him there unthinkingly. The thought of using his
life to buy back whatever honor it might pay for had made itself completely at
home, without generating anything as concrete as a plan or preparations.
But--*here*, something breathed, a slow settling in his stomach when he found
himself staring at one of the small windows that had given Rin her only view of
the world during her confinement. *Here, of course, where else?* He had no
idea how many cursed members of their family had lived out their lives on the
other side of that window, staring out at sunlight that would never quite reach
them again.

The door was unlocked; he slipped inside, barely noticing the layer of dust that
had settled over everything. The single room was almost empty, holding only a
narrow futon and other minimal, impersonal effects. He tried to imagine
Rin--her vibrant eyes, her occasional smiles, the sharp sweetness of her
voice--withering away inside these walls, and was mercifully unable to do it.
The only tangible sign of her presence was the light scattering of long black
hairs on the floor, evidence that the last efforts at cleaning the room had been
hurried and haphazard.

"Rin," he whispered. Only silence answered him. This wasn't a place her spirit
would come back to, even in his imaginings. He glanced around, already sure
that he'd find nothing sharp lying about--he could hardly be the first person
hoping to hurry his life's ending in the room built to contain the darkest
incarnation of their curse. And there was no ghost, no manifestation of his
guilt to helpfully materialize appropriate tools. In the end, there was only
him.

He pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning on, bent to gather up a lock of
hair from the floor. As he had so many times before, he twined it around his
fingers; stroking it lightly with his thumb, he went back out into the world for
the last time, to see what he could find.

**********

Kureno bumped into him--almost literally--on the path to the gardeners'
outbuilding. Coming unexpectedly face to face after so many weeks startled both
of them more than it had any right to; the Main House had extensive grounds, but
truly avoiding another member of the family was possible only if their habits
were carefully observed.

"'Scuse me," Haru muttered, his eyes flicking away as if Kureno were nothing
more than a shadow between him and the sun. Looking at him sent chills down
Kureno's spine: there was an eerie calm behind the blankness, as if the mask his
face had become during the months with Akito was now covering a void rather than
a seething mass of suppressed emotion.

"Are you looking for something?" Kureno asked, one of the habitual questions the
family had learned to ask Haru when he was a small, easily-distracted boy who
might be found anywhere in the compound, bruised or lost or entangled in any
manner of trouble.

"No." A hint of impatience showed in Haru's small frown, but he made no sudden
movement--there was no flash of sunlight on metal, no quick flurry of attempted
concealment. It was only coincidence that Kureno glanced down and saw the edge
of a blade nestled between his fingers.

*Akito,* was his first thought, a cold swirl of dread passing through his belly.
And then he looked at Haru's face again and knew. "Hatsuharu...!" The blood
relationship between Haru and Isuzu might be distant to the point of needing a
chart to work it out, but in that moment Haru's eyes reminded Kureno sickeningly
of hers--not the fevered pain of when he had found her in the Cat's room,
half-starved and delirious, but the deadness that had come later.

*They're only children,* he thought numbly, unable to look away. *Children, and
what we've done to them...* "What are you doing?"

"The first honorable thing I've done in months." Haru's reply was soft and
steady, only a tightening of his fingers betraying a hint of emotion. One
slipped a little, skin parting cleanly on the small knife in his hand.

Kureno reached out without thinking. "You can't--"

"Why the hell not?" A step back took him out of Kureno's reach. "It's the only
thing I _can_ do."

"If you live, you won't hurt this badly forever."

Haru stared through him. "It's not about not hurting."

"What, then?"

"There's nothing else that can cover what I owe her. I can't just live like
nothing happened--"

Kureno slapped him squarely across the face, startling himself more than Haru,
who didn't even lift a hand to the reddening splotch on his cheek. "I've heard
plenty of selfish things in my life, but that is just..." He shook his head,
taken aback by the anger stirring under his horror. "Where's the 'honor' in
throwing your life away after everything she gave up for you?" A small flinch
went through Haru's shoulders. "Do you believe this is what Isuzu wanted?"

"Shut up," Haru snarled, but his eyes were focusing, no longer vague and absent.

"I don't believe it," Kureno continued quietly. "I held her when she was crying
for you. You don't owe _me_ anything, but think about this more. For her.
Don't do something stupid enough to prove the family gossip is true." He held
out a hand, palm up in entreaty, and waited. "Dying isn't the only way to give
her your life."

Haru stared at him, wide-eyed in a way that made Kureno wonder if he was seeing
him at all. The wind picked up, rich with the scents of dead flowers on their
way back into the earth. And slowly, moving with the stiffness of great age,
Haru lay the knife across his open palm.

"Come to me before you go looking for a replacement," Kureno said softly. "I
know you've no reason to trust me, but--"

"You took her out of that room."

"Yes."

"Tell me about her." A plea burned under the demand, and Kureno let himself
release a breath he'd been holding for too long. Under the reddening foliage,
he offered up everything he could: how Isuzu's hands had trembled with cold and
weakness as she clung to him, how distressingly easy it had been to lift her.
How she had fallen asleep in his arms as he carried her, Haru's name warm on his
neck as she breathed it out.

When he fell silent, Haru stood shivering in front of him, and Kureno touched
his cheek again, gently this time. The tiny response made his throat tighten,
as Haru leaned into the contact; he remembered that craving for communion and
reassurance, and Haru was famously tactile for a Jyuunishi.

"She's my heart," Haru murmured, and despite the pain in his voice, a faint
smile softened his mouth.

"If you die, your heart dies with you."

Haru jerked away at his answer, the fleeting connection broken so abruptly that
Kureno half-expected him to bolt. Instead, he threw his head back to look at
the sun overhead, squinting against it until Kureno cleared his throat.

"I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask," Kureno replied, and Haru nodded, still staring into the sky.

*********
"looking away, too scared to see human remains"
--Tom McRae, "Human Remains" (Just Like Blood)
**********

*I'll think about it.*

Haru had agreed grudgingly, responding more to the look in Kureno's eyes than
his words. Those had been the last eyes to see Rin before she was taken to the
hospital he'd started to think of as her grave, and they'd been fixed on him
with such horror that his skin crawled. At first, he thought he'd wait only a
day or so, but the thoughts flooding his head through the rest of the day and
that night kept sleep from him until sunrise. Watching dawn's colors staining
and then dispelling the first gray light sent a pang through his chest; it was
the kind of soft beauty that entranced Rin when she was too weary to endure
intensity.

Imagining her beside him in the bed was effortless in that light: she would be
warm against his side, only her hands cool as she freed them from the blanket to
touch his neck, her questioning voice fogged with sleep as she followed his gaze
out the window and fell silent at the sight.

"I don't want to die." Said aloud, however softly, the words reeked of
selfishness. He curled up on his side and kept staring out the window, watching
the movement of tree branches across the sliver of moon still peeking through
the gray-and-pastel clouds. "But you didn't want any of what happened to you,
love."

"I didn't have a choice." Her voice in his ear was clear enough he could
pretend it was real.

"You did," he whispered.

"I didn't." Fingertips grazed the ends of his hair, a touch so light he felt it
only as a faint tug at his scalp. "You're dreaming me again, but what I'm
saying is true and you know it."

"Dreams say what you want to hear."

"Or they tell you things you already know," she shot back, her voice sharpening
with irritation. "You don't have to imagine what I felt for you. Even if it
was through Akito, you touched my _soul_, more than you ever touched my body.
You _know_ I had no choice." There was no shimmer or flicker in his vision--she
was simply there, between him and the brightening dawn, kneeling by the bed to
meet his eyes. "You were my world after everything else was gone. There was
nothing else I could've done."

"I should have--"

"It's not your fault your world was bigger than me." Haru shook his head in
denial, and Rin sat back on her heels. "I never thought you loved me less just
because you loved other things too." She pushed loose wisps of hair away from
her face, and Haru found himself watching the gesture, unable to pin down what
was strange about it.

"If I'm talking to an--an echo of her, or you--why haven't I dreamed about you
like this for so long?" The urge to touch her gnawed at him until he had to
clasp his hands to keep from reaching for her. "Rin--"

"You weren't listening, dummy." A startlingly soft smile made the old taunt a
gentle joke between them. "You were too busy trying to shrink your world down
to the size of mine. Wrong answer--dying won't bring you any closer to me. We
broke the promise the Jyuunishi made with their god, so our souls'll do the same
thing as everyone else's."

"At least we might get reborn at the same time," he said.

The way she rolled her eyes at his stubbornness hadn't changed since childhood.
"Haru. I'm not dead."

"But--"

Amusement and exasperation warred on her face. "Just let it go--you're clinging
to this idea, and it doesn't mean anything."

"Why can't I touch you?"

Rin shrugged, a hitch of her shoulder that looked unexpectedly painful. He
tried to visualize the scar distorting her muscles, and failed, wincing at the
bitter reminder that her body was no longer familiar. "It's your dream. You
tell me."

He extended a hand towards her, and Akito's venomous glare flashed across his
vision. They both watched as his hand curled into a loose fist, tenderness
retreating into aggression.

"I've read that you die if you hit the ground in your dreams," Rin murmured.
"But it doesn't always kill you when you're awake." She reached back, curving
her hand over his without making contact. "My mind's the only thing I couldn't
share with you. My heart and body and soul are all where you left them."

"Tori-nii says you're happy."

"You don't know, so how should I?" A wistful smile shadowed her face. "Will
you come if I call you?" *This time* went unsaid, a reminder of his guilt that
he couldn't quite imagine her voicing. He nodded, and she slowly turned her
hand so it was under his, open and waiting; he let his fingers relax, and hers
darted up between them, thumb caressing his palm. "Wake up."

**********

He came awake instantly, aching with her absence but certain he was no longer
dreaming. The world's edges were too crisp and bright to be anything but real.
Downstairs the phone was ringing, a single tone that cut off and was replaced
first by his mother's voice and then by her footsteps on the stairs.

"Who's on the phone?" he called before she could knock. The morning sun warmed
his face, tempting him to keep lying in its light rather than answer the phone.

"Kureno-san." Anxiety tinged her voice, enough that Haru rolled out of bed
without further hesitation. It wasn't until he slid the door open and saw the
way she was looking at him that he realized it had little to do with who was
waiting to speak with him. For the first time in the long weeks since returning
from Akito's side, he stopped and examined her, taking in the way her eyes
darted to and away from his.

"Are you okay?" he asked as she began to turn away. "Mom?"

Her answer was long enough in coming that he had time to watch the sparkling
dance of dust motes in the air. "You're my only child."

"I'm--" He reached out for her arm without thinking, accustomed to that much
contact, and then reached further as he remembered that his instincts no longer
mattered. Rin's affectionate exasperation hummed wordlessly in his
ears--surprisingly intense for a memory of a dream of an echo, he thought--as he
pulled his mother into a quick, carefully casual hug. "I'm not going anywhere,
okay?"

"You haven't been yourself," she said, and he took an extra moment to further
acquaint himself with the feel of an unfamiliar body in his arms.

*I've been nothing _but_ myself,* tried to come out, but he stifled it. "I'd
better go see what Kureno wants."

**********

"I was getting worried," Kureno said when Haru picked up the phone, not quite
convincing in his attempt to pass the greeting off as lighthearted. Haru tucked
the receiver against his shoulder while he rubbed his neck, wondering how often
Kureno had the opportunity to attempt jokes; his sense of humor sounded
distinctly rusty. "How are you?"

"Other than my dreams channeling my amnesiac ex-girlfriend?" A long silence met
the question. "If I thought dying meant dreaming forever, things'd be
different."

"But?"

"But she told me I was being an idiot, just like you, and it _wasn't_ her,
but--" The stinging in his eyes was too sharp to be blamed on the sunlight
pouring in through the window. "It wasn't her. Rin's gone."

"She loved you very much," Kureno said quietly. "I spoke with her so rarely
while she was growing up that that's the only thing I know for certain about
her, but I have no doubts about it."

"Yeah." Haru blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. "Can I come talk to
you?"

Relief poured through the faint crackle of the phone line. "Of course,
Hatsuharu."

**********

Kureno's house was small but beautifully maintained, at odds with his apparent
absentmindedness. Haru glanced around as the older man led him inside, filing
away the fact that the compound staff were clearly not under orders to stay
away. There was no unifying motif among the small decorations and knickknacks
that personalized the living area; each item seemed to have been chosen for its
own sake rather than effect, and the overall impression was of a rather younger
person than Kureno inhabiting the place.

He made himself comfortable when Kureno waved him to a cushion, and waited while
tea was brewed. It was only after they were both sitting with steaming cups in
hand that Kureno finally sighed and met his eyes. "I'm sorry, it's been a long
time since anyone's been here. I'm not used to spending so much time at home."
The explanation was offered without judgment or apology.

"You're used to being with Akito all the time."

"Yes."

Haru nodded to himself. "I--there's a lot of stuff in my head, and I don't know
how much of it I'm okay with talking about. But I've got a question that needs
a straight answer." When Kureno said nothing in reply, Haru gritted his teeth
and threw the words out, unable to frame them carefully or hide their
bitterness. "How many of us has she slept with?"

Tea spattered the table as Kureno's cup slipped in his fingers; he recovered
before it could fall. "You--" He winced and set the cup down. "Generally,
that's the sort of thing you ask the person in question, and before the fact."
Haru flinched, more at the look on Kureno's face than the words, but waited.
"You would make three. Including me, as you've undoubtedly guessed."

"I heard you telling her she'd slept with more people than Rin had," Haru said,
feeling a disconcerting need to justify asking the question. The sorrow in
Kureno's gaze made him bite back his rage at Akito's hypocritical contempt.

"Akito is... confused about these things." Kureno spoke quietly, but granite
lay under the words. "And beyond that, it's not my place to discuss it."

"I don't want to know anything else." Haru wiped away a drop of tea with a
fingertip. "She's not my lover. It was a mistake, and I can't--I don't--"

"Is she nothing to you now?"

The question gave him pause, made him assess Kureno again. *She's _his_ lover,*
he told himself, trying to make the idea click into his world view. "Not
exactly."

"When it happened to me, I loved her even more." Kureno raised his cup and
sipped slowly, the last wisps of steam bathing his face. "I could see her pain,
but I could only feel my own."

"'When it'... oh." Comprehension blazed up, thousands of small mysteries
falling into place: Akito's demand that Kureno be isolated from them, his
detachment, the sad way he watched them from time to time. "When did you--"

"When I was fifteen. Long enough ago that she and I had both started believing
I was an... an anomaly. Something that could never happen again."

Haru frowned, trying to recall the dim dreams that had haunted him with Akito.
"Is there anyone else?"

"I don't believe so. There was no one else before Isuzu's curse broke, and now
yours..." Worried lines creased Kureno's brow. "I can barely imagine what she
must be feeling, having lost both of you so close together. And it seems to
have been harder on you two than it was on me." Haru shot him a questioning
look. "I saw Isuzu in the hospital afterwards. She took it very badly."

"You saw her?"

"Briefly." Kureno took a final mouthful of tea and grimaced, setting it aside.
"If Akito's mental state was anything like hers afterwards, I'm amazed the house
survived."

"Why didn't you come back?"

"I tried." A rueful sigh punctuated the words. "I'm not--accustomed to
fighting with Akito. It turns out she has no tolerance for it. I've been
relying on reports from the servants for quite some time."

"They answer to you?"

"Of course." Faint surprise lit Kureno's face. "You don't have to be Jyuunishi
to see that Akito is unpredictable."

"She's fucking insane," Haru corrected, but Kureno continued as if he hadn't
spoken.

"She rarely comes out of her private rooms these days, and she still won't let
them admit me. Whatever--happened between you two, Hatsuharu, she--"

"Am I supposed to care?"

The reproach in Kureno's reply was clear. "She has never made so little
pretense of upholding her responsibilities to the family before."

"I don't owe her or the family anything," Haru said, holding his voice steady
with an effort. "I'll live my life for Rin, like you said. But no one else."

"What about for yourself?"

"Don't." He pushed to his feet, shaking his head. "I appreciate what you're
trying to do, but I'm done with her."

"What do you intend to do, then?"

"I _intend_ to make sure I never forget anything again."


*********

Fruits Basket is the creation of Takaya Natsuki, and is licensed in North
America by FUNimation (anime) and Tokyopop (manga). Used without permission or
the intention of making a profit. Please support the original work!

"History, Like Love" © 2006-2007 by Ysabet MacFarlane (ba087@chebucto.ns.ca).
Edited by Alishya Lane.

Comments and criticism welcomed at the above address.

This story may be reproduced and archived so long as the original text is
preserved and the author's name and contact information remain attached.
Notifying the author of any such use is an appreciated courtesy. NO CHANGES OF
ANY KIND ARE PERMITTED.

All quoted lyrics/epigraphs are the property of their copyright holders, and are
also used without permission. The title "History, Like Love" comes from the
song "Human Remains" by Tom McRae, found on the album "Just Like Blood"; this
chapter's title is also taken from the song.