Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Hyperventilation ❯ Hyperventilation (1/1) ( One-Shot )

Title: Hyperventilation

Author: Flamika

E-mail: flamika27 @ yahoo.com (w/o spaces)

Genre: General, Angst

Disclaimer: If they were mine, I would be rolling in dough right now, but I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel to make it through college so obviously they belong to someone else, that someone being Takaya Natsuki-san.

Pairings: none

Warnings: angst

Rating: PG

Notes: This is one of those "written on a whim" fanfics. I wrote it in utter isolation in the Asscrack of Texas. I guess I was in a bleak mood. >.< Once I got the idea in my head, I couldn't get it out. Although I do see the possibility for a relationship between Akito and Kyou, that's a challenge I don't want to undertake. Thus, this fic is not meant to be romantic, but if you want to view it that way, feel free to do so.

Archiving: http://www.geocities.com/flamika27/fb.html

*

Why do we crucify ourselves
Everyday I crucify myself
Nothing I do is good enough for you
Crucify myself
Everyday I crucify myself
And my heart is sick of being in chains

Please be
Save me
I cry

"Crucify"

Tori Amos

Akito had a nightmare, which was nothing new. Akito had many nightmares, subconscious manifestations ranging from monstrous blobs oozing to devour him while he fled on lead-heavy feet to less eventful but far more poignant dreams that left him whimpering piteously like a wounded animal begging to be put out of its misery. It was the latter that affected him the most, leaving him wide awake and fighting back tears as he clung to the warmth and reassurance of Kureno's sleeping form.

However, this nightmare stood above all the others because it was, quite simply, the God's worst nightmare.

Silence, bleak and hungry. Akito knelt at the head of a great table, decked out in finery such as he'd never known, his diminutive figure swathed in silks and other garments made of material he was sure had never been handled by a mortal creature. Fabric made for the gods. The table before him stretched seemingly into forever, golden plates laden with rich, sumptuous foods, pitchers filled with the most exquisite of beverages. A feast made for the god's chosen. A banquet made to unite them in dance and revelry, in light and laughter and the simple joy of existing.

But the table was empty. No one had come.

And still the silence stretched, mocking him with its superior reign, greedily hogging the air that should have been filled with the beautiful voices of his guests, the animals of the Zodiac.

At first all he knew was a despair that cut so deep it was all he could do not to double over in grief and weep until he hadn't moisture left to form tears, but he was a god, and gods do not weep for the ungrateful. Gods do not weep for those that betray them, those who disdain their generosity.

Thus, the rage. The hatred. The bitterness.

He ran throughout his home, whose doors had so kindly - so stupidly! - flung open for his guests, searching the empty rooms, his ire swelling with every blank space offered to him in mockery. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing!

Until, at last, he reached the gates of his domain, barreling through the finely-wrought gold with the intention of unleashing his wrath upon the world.

But there was someone at the gates, dressed in rags and stinking of death, dirt smudged across his skin.

"My lord," the Cat greeted, voice immensely sad, but hopeful. "I wish to come to your banquet."

Akito recoiled, feeling nothing but scorn for the filthy creature that had dared come so close to his gates. "You're a day too late, you wretched beast."

The Cat's shoulders sagged, expression twisting with anguish, and that was fine. Let this creature's soul echo the God's broken heart. Let the Cat alone understand the loneliness, the misery, the rage, the desire for vengeance against the ones who scorned it.

And yet, he could not bring himself to shut the gates on the creature, the only one who wished to come to his banquet. Before his eyes, the featureless dream-Cat before him took on the face of someone he knew, loathsome orange hair, flashing crimson eyes, and sun-tanned skin emerging from the generic representation of the Juunishi's outcast.

Souma Kyou closed his eyes and began the Dance of the Cat, which no one, not even the God, had ever seen before.

Words failed to describe the beauty of form Akito witnessed at the gates of his kingdom. Every motion, no matter how simple or how extravagant, was sheer perfection. Longing and sadness sheathed in mortal flesh. Rage. Envy. Desperation. They were all there, wordless and pure, in the arcing of his feet, the twisting of his shoulders.

Tears carved clear paths into the dirt staining Kyou's high cheekbones, and Akito wept with him.

"I dance alone, my lord," a disembodied voice, not Kyou's, whispered in his ear. "All of the Cursed Twelve have partners with which to share their emotion. Only the God and the Cat dance by themselves. Please, my lord, won't you accept me?"

The spell induced by the voice faded, and Akito beheld Kyou in front of him, a riot of elegant material and vivid colors covering the figure that had been clad in a beggar's rags. He had stalled his Dance to extend a strong hand half-wrapped in white silk, fingernails gilded with ceremonial gold, to his God.

The desire to take that hand and fall into those waiting arms surged within him, and for a horrible moment, Akito almost drew the Cat into his sanctuary.

But he remembered himself at the last moment and ran, the gilded gates shutting behind his fleeing figure, leaving their twin souls, both cursed with despair, trapped on opposite sides of the gate.

And still, Kyou called after him, "Akito!"

"Akito!"

He let out a cry of grief and lashed out blindly, choking with surprise when his hand struck soft, warm flesh. A grunt of pain penetrated his consciousness, shredding the remnants of dream and leaving Akito vulnerable and exposed to reality. He wasn't fleeing from the gates of his kingdom in godly robes, swatting vainly at a disembodied voice. He was lying in bed wearing a yukata, and Souma Kureno had been the unwitting target of his violent, sightless fingers.

Blinking furiously, Akito managed to focus on Kureno's face, the man's russet eyes alive with concern even in the deep shadows. Oh yes, now he remembered. Kureno was the Rooster, and he slept with Akito because Akito ordered it. Such was his power as the God.

"Akito," Kureno murmured, rubbing the smaller man's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Akito sat up with stunning alacrity and shoved Kureno, almost sending him over the edge of the bed. "Why didn't you come?" he demanded angrily, voice still thick with the pain of his dream. "Why?"

Kureno righted himself and cautiously rose into a sitting position, the sheets tangled around them. "Akito, you were having a nightmare."

"I know that!" Akito snapped, and would have yelled more if the bleakness residing in his heart of hearts hadn't risen to choke him, robbing him of his voice and bringing tears into his eyes. Though his dream-self had managed to resist the urge to express his heartfelt misery, Akito was not nearly so resilient. He buried his face in his hands and began to cry, and all Kureno could do was hold him close and do his best to soothe the tears whose origin he would never understand.

*

In the days that followed, Akito summoned every one of his Juunishi to him, even those in his disfavor. He hardly wanted to lay eyes on Rin or Kisa, but he forced himself to endure their distasteful presence until he was assured they would have attended his dream-banquet out of fear, if nothing else.

Akito exempted Kureno from all his other duties so the rooster could dedicate himself solely to serving his god. Hatori stayed for lunch everyday and sometimes dinner, if Akito wished it. He called Shigure to the main house every morning, and ordered Yuki, Haru, Hiro, and Momiji to visit after school during the week. Kagura and Ritsu, two of the Juunishi he saw less than the others, visited on Akito's command. Ayame came in a whirl of overly cheerful salutations and disgustingly girly outfits, and Akito deigned to tolerate the man's rambunctious presence.

Despite extracting vows of loyalty from all his cursed ones, there was something burning inside him, a nagging feeling that wouldn't go away no matter how many times he stroked Kureno's smooth skin or toyed with a trailing lock of Ritsu's hair. Normally such disquiet sparked rage inside him, but this time, he knew the source of his uneasiness.

At the end of the week, he told Shigure to bring Kyou.

*

Even Kureno was not nearby for the visit. The bitter snows of winter had made their chilling presence known during the night, and Akito had sent the man on errands to wash thick winter blankets and purchase various things that would aid the upkeep of Akito's tender health during the cold months.

Akito really didn't mind the snow, and it wasn't just because he had once likened his beautiful Hatori the frigid whiteness. He would rather sleep heaped with blankets and curled close to Kureno than lay alone in bed and sweat his yukata through and through during the summertime. Winter made him feel alive, whereas summer threatened to suffocate him with life and heat.

That was why Akito had the window thrown open, his arms draped over the edge, welcoming the chill on his feverish cheeks despite the fact that Kyou knelt in the center of the tatami mats in naught but his baggy jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt woven from cheap, thin material, trying in vain to mask his light shivering.

Akito cast a black stare over his shoulder, peering between strands of his dark hair at the blatantly uncomfortable young man. It seemed even the bitterest winter couldn't dull the color of that offensive orange hair, or quell the constant sparking of those blood-red eyes, or make that swarthy skin pale like frost. How bothersome. Fortunately, Kyou was not inherently ugly. His facial features were nicely-arranged, his body lithe and graceful, but no member of the Juunishi had ever lacked physical beauty. What lay within Kyou, that was the monstrosity Akito hated having inside the walls of the Inner Circle.

//Monster. Takes one to know one,// a voice murmured, and Akito almost turned to find the source before he rightfully identified it as the whisper he sometimes heard when the air was dead and quiet around him. Nothing he could do about it, and he refused to go to pieces in front of Kyou.

He had summoned his other Juunishi to reaffirm his control over them, but now that he had the last of his cursed ones in his presence...he had no idea what to do.

Akito pulled away from his window, bored since the birds thought it was too cold to emerge from their nests. He wrapped his robes tightly around his body and idly wandered in Kyou's direction, circling the cat and watching in amusement as Kyou's eyes tried to keep him in sight without straining his neck.

He stopped right behind him, staring down at the cat's head, orange tresses brazen against the black shirt. Akito reached out and gathered a fistful of the material in his small hand, nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Cheap," he murmured. "Probably trash no one wanted." He released the fabric, watching it meekly resettle over Kyou's shoulder blade in a wrinkled patch. The cat had his hands fisted in the camouflage pattern of his baggy pants, shaking with rage though his mouth amazingly remained shut.

Akito smirked and reached to touch Kyou's hair, only to have it move sharply beyond his grasp, no subtlety at all in the motion. Discretion had never been one of the cat's strong points. Normally he was a riot of sound and fury.

"Why am I here?" Kyou suddenly demanded. So much for keeping his temper in check.

"You should be grateful I even allowed your monstrous presence into my household," Akito told him icily, wondering if he should kick Kyou in the back for his rudeness.

He saw Kyou's jaw bulge, and imagined he was biting back harsh words. Akito sighed unkindly. "My monster, my monster, my monster..."

"Don't call me that! Please," he spat the last word, not bothering to hide the scorn in his voice.

Akito ignored the outburst. "How are you doing in your fight against Yuki?"

Kyou's shoulders hunched.

"Not well? How sad," Akito said, voice laden with mock-sympathy. "Not that I expected anything else. After all, you are the Cat, and he is the Rat. There really is no comparison. No matter how many skills you obtain, Yuki will always be superior to you."

The slender shoulders below him were shaking with barely-contained fury. "That's not true," Kyou hissed.

Akito frowned. Kyou was so easy to nettle, so quick to anger. It was either very amusing, or very boring. Today, it was the latter.

"We've been through this before, haven't we?" Akito grumbled. "How long will it take for you to realize the truth in my words? If you think there is any true way to evade your fate, then you are gravely mistaken."

Kyou whirled, rising into a crouch and glaring up at Akito. "I'll do it! I'll beat that damn rat!"

"Shut up," Akito snapped, annoyed with Kyou's tendency to yowl like an offended feline, especially when agitated.

Though the cat's voice resentfully subsided, those angry eyes were still spitting sparks in Akito's direction. This grossly uncivilized creature wished to be part of the Juunishi? The very idea was laughable. Kyou did not know how to properly behave in Akito's presence, and Akito was *certain* he had had someone attempt to educate the stubborn beast at one point or another. His persistent insubordination was simply intolerable. Akito refused to reward one who would not obey him. If Kyou ever lost control of that hideous, misshapen *thing* inside his body...

Inwardly, Akito shuddered, but outside, his face twisted into a sneer that betrayed nothing of the fear and revulsion he felt for Kyou's monster. He knew Kyou felt the same way about his beast, but what Kyou hid with anger, Akito hid with contempt.

//Really quite similar, actually,// the voice murmured.

Akito frantically quenched that unbidden thought. He left Kyou crouched on the tatami mats and walked over to the shoji doors, throwing them open and relishing the gust of frigid air that rustled the layers of his robes, piercing them cleanly to caress the sensitive skin underneath. The sleeping, snow-covered garden stretched pristine and white like the silk draped over Kyou's hand in Akito's nightmare.

Akito sighed, soothed by the way his breath clouded the thin air, a sight he'd been fascinated with since childhood. He'd not been allowed to play outside during winter when he was young. Now, he could do it whenever he wanted. Hatori and Kureno could nag themselves into an early grave, but Akito didn't have to listen to them.

Deliberately ignoring the sandals someone - Kureno, most likely - had purposefully left beside the door, Akito defiantly stepped off the wooden walkway and into the snow, letting the cold whiteness leech the warmth from his bare toes. The skin of his delicate feet was almost as pale as the snow.

He turned to glare at Kyou, who was still perched awkwardly in the center of the tatami mats, no doubt hoping he was dismissed and could go home to his ugly little bitch Tohru, who he claimed to love. Ridiculous.

"If I catch cold and die, our bet is off," Akito said offhandedly. "And then you will have no chance at freedom."

Kyou just blinked dumbly, and Akito sighed in disgust. What an insufferable creature! He'd learn how to behave yet. He turned his back to the cat and stalked off into the dormant garden, the hems of his robes dragging behind him, blazing a light path in the formerly unmarred blanket of whiteness.

Behind him, he heard Kyou scramble to his feet. "Hey! You're barefooted!"

Akito scowled at being referred to as "hey!" and strode further into the garden, intent on the small bench beneath one of the naked trees, its seat thankfully devoid of snow. He gracefully arranged himself on the edge, not bothering to draw his feet onto the bench with him, allowing them to endure that curious cold, burning sensation they always experienced right before the skin became blissfully numb.

Kyou ran up to him, still clad in nothing but his shirt, jeans, and socks, the last of which were now thoroughly soaked as his body heat melted the snow on which he tread. He had Akito's sandals grasped in one hand and thrust them forward, a dark, guarded expression on his face.

"Wear these," he grumbled.

Eyes as black as pitch regarded the footwear disdainfully. Kyou was lucky Akito didn't slap him for issuing such a rude order.

When the dark-haired family head made no move to take the shoes, Kyou scowled in frustration, graceful eyebrows snapping together. His hair looked more red than orange out here in the endless landscape of white. Odd. "Are you *trying* to make yourself sick?"

The "you idiot!" at the end went without saying, but Akito knew the cat had barely refrained from tacking it on.

"Did you bring me here just to torment me?" Kyou demanded, desperation making his voice harsh as his hands clenched into fists, crushing the sandals in his strong grip.

Akito smiled saccharinely. "Sit down, Kyou."

He saw the cat grit his teeth, but he sullenly obeyed, dropping the sandals at Akito's feet before ungainly plopping down on the bench, making sure he had the entire length of it between the two of them. If it were any of the other Juunishi, Akito would have scooted over and huddled against their warmth, but this was Kyou. Just the thought of touching Kyou's skin made his stomach twist with revulsion.

It was almost a pity. He could feel Kyou's body warmth even across the space dividing them, hot enough to chase away the chill of even the coldest of nights.

"Tell me, monster," Akito murmured, barely able to feel his lips form the words. "How long until you graduate?"

Kyou hugged himself, rubbing his arms for warmth. "A few months," he mumbled.

Akito feigned surprise. "Oh? So soon. What a shame."

"You don't think it's a shame," Kyou mumbled. "Anymore than I care if you catch a cold."

A frown marred Akito's features, or at least, he thought it did. His face was so numb he couldn't really tell. "Then why did you fall over yourself to bring me shoes?"

"Because I don't want you to *die* trying to prove a point or be dramatic or whatever it is you're doing!" Kyou announced hotly, his temper peaking as he grew supremely frustrated with the situation.

Those were *not* the words Akito wanted to hear, but his teeth were chattering too hard for him to snap at the belligerent beast. He rose sharply to feet that no longer felt the harsh bite of the snow, stalking forward, once again ignoring the sandals that had been begrudgingly placed for his comfort.

//Why are you so upset?// the voice mocked. //Because he cares? Because you care that he doesn't want you to die?//

"Shut up!" Akito hissed through gritted teeth. If Kyou's presence always had this effect...it was fortunate he was going to be locked away soon. The Cat was a beast of emotion and chaos. Entirely too dangerous to be allowed to interact with anyone.

Normally, Akito was quite adept at navigating his numb feet through the snow, but currently he was too occupied arguing with himself and getting away from Kyou as soon as possible that he didn't realize the impromptu shortcut he took led right over the frozen, snow-laden koi pond.

"Akito!" Kyou suddenly cried in alarm. "Ice!"

He turned to glare at the nasty creature, and the motion sent him off balance, his feet searching for the soft, yielding snow and instead finding bitterly cold, hard ice. He felt his feet slide from underneath him, and he was too shocked at his lack of foresight and loss of grace that he didn't bother to do something as fruitless as try to save himself.

//Perhaps you deserve it. Idiot.//

Akito would have fully welcomed the passionless embrace of the ground, or even an unforgiving kiss from one of the rocks lining the pond, but to his immense surprise, he struck soft warmth that cushioned his fall and foiled his unwelcome meeting with the harsh elements. But the rush of unexpected adrenaline mingled with his freezing body and thundering heartbeat proved to be a lethal mixture for his fragile system, and he felt soft but uncompromising darkness swell to eat his vision one chunk at a time until there was nothing left but dim recognition of softness and the scent of Kyou. But soon even that was gone, and the darkness took him.

*

Akito dreamed. It was a good dream. A simple dream.

In the midst of a vast desert that nurtured no life, underneath a sky that churned with angry storm clouds, he danced with Kyou. Away from the eyes of the world, there was nothing to be denied, nothing to feel ashamed of. As austere as the landscape was, it was a safe haven, and it was only for them.

The complementary silks of their robes swished and whirled about one another, touching and tangling like the pliant limbs of two lovers. Akito had never danced before, but the motions came naturally to him, as unthinking as breathing or blinking, and Kyou's graceful dance was in perfect opposition to his. The synchronized caresses of their hands were soft even as their motions repelled one another.

Akito felt a sublime sense of joy that came from performing an action unfettered by worry or scruples, and he saw his exact emotions reflected in the soft contours of Kyou's face, in the shining of his eyes, the curving of his lips.

He wished it would never end, but it did.

The desert grew unbearably hot, and Akito felt a strange pressure binding his limbs, causing him to forget the motions of the God's Dance. Kyou's face was soon lost amongst the stinging sands that had suddenly risen to divide the dancing pair, denying them the euphoria they could find only within each other. The cat's grief-stricken cry echoed Akito's as they were torn apart.

The binds around him shifted, loosening briefly, and Akito began to struggle violently against them, fighting the urge to cry.

"Akito," Kureno's voice whispered.

Black eyes flew open, startled out of their vision of unadulterated bliss. He wasn't in a desert with Kyou. He was in the main room on the tatami mats with Kureno leaning over him, the backdrop of the now-closed shoji doors stretching behind his broad shoulders. The soft things that bound Akito so tightly were blankets, wrapped around him from neck to toe, not allowing his body heat even a centimeter of leeway to escape.

"Are you alright?" the rooster asked quietly, unwrapping the blankets as Akito continued to twist within their suffocating embrace.

Feverishly tossing the restraining folds aside, Akito sat up, pushing his hair away from his face, which bore a light sheen of sweat, much to his annoyance. "Why are you here?" he demanded of Kureno.

"You and Kyou were outside," the man explained, voice level and calm. "You slipped on the frozen pond. Kyou caught you, but then he fell with you and hit his head on one of the rocks. I carried both of you inside. And then I called for Hatori."

Akito's eyes raked over the empty room. "Where is Hatori? Was he so concerned with my wellbeing that he did not even wait for me to wake up?"

"Kyou may have a concussion. Hatori is with him at the clinic."

Akito threw back the blankets and struggled to his feet, noting with grim satisfaction that his legs were still functional. He hadn't injured anything during his slip on the pond surface. He had half a mind to have that pond filled with dirt come spring. To hell with the fish.

Kureno rose to his feet, voice slightly troubled. "Where are you going, Akito?"

"Out," he snapped.

"Please put a coat on, then," Kureno insisted, familiar enough with Akito's moods to know when questions were not welcome.

Unfortunately, Kureno compensated for his lack of nosiness with a streak of over-protectiveness. He refused to be satisfied until Akito was laden in several layers of robes, a coat, a scarf, two pairs of socks, and sandals. Akito felt three kilometers wide by the time he was through tolerating Kureno's fussing, hotly vetoing the suggestion that he wear a hat. It wasn't that far to Hatori's clinic, and Akito ordered a reluctant Kureno to remain in the room while he went.

Despite his aggravation at having to argue with his most obliging Juunishi, Akito wasn't reckless during his trip to the clinic, adopting a slow, careful gait and staying on the main paths. Slipping in the snow was embarrassing enough, and he refused to be clumsy twice in one day. No one deserved to see him in a state of disgrace, especially not Kyou.

//How ungrateful. He might have saved your life.//

Perish the thought.

Akito had keys to every building within the Inner Circle, including Hatori's clinic, but he'd forgotten them in his haste. Fortunately, the door wasn't locked, and he flung it open none-too-gently, frowning at the excessive amount of shoes in the entryway. He discarded his sandals and stepped into the house just as Hatori emerged from his office, blinking in surprise at the sight of the head of the family glowering at him.

"Akito," he greeted mildly. "You shouldn't be out in the cold so soon after your...incident."

Hatori was mocking him. He knew it. Bastard.

"Where's my monster?" Akito demanded.

"Down the hall," came the unruffled reply. "It was fortunate Kyou was with you when you fell, or you might have sustained more damage than you did. And it was a good thing Kureno found you when he did; otherwise, both of you may have suffered from exposure."

Akito stalked down the hall without letting the doctor continue. Did Hatori really have to nag him every single day? He made Akito feel like he was still five years old.

He was halfway down the hall when he heard Kyou's indignant voice resounding off the walls, "Stop poking me, you brat!"

"Does it hurt a lot, Kyou?" Momiji asked in that annoyingly cheery voice of his, confirming that Akito had accurately guessed one of the owners' of the extra shoes in the entryway.

The other intruder in question was Hatsuharu, who turned bland brown eyes to Akito when he appeared unexpectedly in the doorway, a slight lifting of his pale eyebrows the only indication that Akito's presence had caught him off guard.

"Oni is here," he announced, stating the obvious.

Kyou froze, still clutching a wad of bloody rags to the back of his head. Momiji bounded off the hospital bed, a large smile on his face, though the cheer in his eyes had dwindled considerably.

"Are you alright, Akito?" the little blonde asked, and Akito couldn't tell if his concern was feigned or not. "Isn't it wonderful that Kyou saved you? He was like a prince rescuing his king!"

"Out," Akito ordered, not at all amused by the metaphor.

"We're leaving, Kyou!" Momiji enthused, never missing a step. "I hope you feel better!"

Kyou grumbled a reply, and Momiji flounced out the door. Hatsuharu followed a second later, bowing briefly in Akito's direction before leaving the door wide open behind him. They obviously didn't trust Akito alone with Kyou behind closed doors. They were probably tattling to Hatori at this very moment.

Silence settled uneasily between the room's two occupants, the only sound the creaking of the bed as Kyou shifted awkwardly, not looking directly at Akito but keeping him within the range of his sight, as if afraid Akito would jump at him. His damp socks had been removed and replaced with a pair of slippers that looked too large for his feet. Probably Hatori's. The flesh around his eyes was taut with pain, but he had lowered the bloody rags from the back of his head, holding them loosely between his hands, unclear about what to do with them.

"Did Hatori put stitches?" Akito finally asked, uncertain as to why he had come here in the first place.

"Three," Kyou answered shortly.

"It's your own fault, you know."

Crimson eyes lifted, flashing indignantly as they locked onto Akito's gray ones. "My fault? You're the one who slipped!"

"I wouldn't have if you hadn't started yelling and making a fuss," Akito told him coolly, comfortable now that he had someone to torment. Kyou was good for nothing if not serving as a convenient scapegoat.

Kyou made a disgusted noise, and then winced in pain at the effort it cost him. "I should have known not to expect a 'thank you,'" he grumbled.

"How wise of you," Akito laughed unkindly. He owed Kyou nothing. Nothing at all.

The orange-haired young man lobbed the dirty rags in the direction of the wastebasket, where they landed amongst the other garbage. "Yeah, well, I'm glad you felt well enough to come down here and tell me how *not* grateful you are," he said, but there was no fire in the words. He just sounded weary. Akito could understand that. He was tired, too.

"Tell me something, Kyou," he said suddenly. "If I were to invite you to the banquet at New Year's, would you come?"

Kyou lifted surprised eyes wrought with no small amount of contempt at what he assumed was a mocking question. Akito watched the play of emotions over the cat's face, reminded uncannily of the dream-Kyou who had stood at the gilded gates of the God's sanctuary. The surprise in Kyou's eyes flared into anger, but something in Akito's face dispersed that fount of endless rage, leaving only disbelief and fear written across a painfully expressive face. And beneath all that, there was hope. If Kyou had been dressed in beggar's rags, he might have stepped straight from Akito's nightmare, with resignation and hope warring with one another in those overbright crimson eyes.

It was *so* very nice that Kyou could still feel hope. Akito had stopped hoping a long time ago.

He felt his expression harden, a pitiless smile curving his lips. "Of course, that will never happen. You are the Cat, after all."

Kyou's barriers slammed down again, but Akito knew that small flare of hope had done its damage. The cat's uncharacteristic silence attested to that.

"Enjoy your time outside," Akito told him. "Because the next time you set foot within the Inner Circle, it will be in a cage, and it will be for forever."

He left Kyou on that cruel, solemn note, trying to ignore the way the cat's slender shoulders sagged unconsciously, shrinking in on himself. Akito had no idea what Kyou's answer to his question might have been. He didn't want to know.

//You're afraid to know. If the Cat doesn't want to come to the banquet...who would?//

It didn't make any difference. After graduation, Kyou would be locked up, out of sight and out of mind, deprived of all human contact save for Akito's visits. Maybe then, Kyou would well and truly understand what Akito endured everyday of his life. What Kyou would feel in that cage was the same thing Akito felt amongst the family he commanded: the bleakness of being alone and unloved.

That was the future. As for now, Kyou had a few months left with Yuki, Shigure, and Honda Tohru. Akito alone had seen the Dance of the Cat, and he intended to keep it that way.

//Greedy. Greedy. Greedy.//

Kyou was a monster, but he was Akito's monster. No one else would know or understand the dark allure of such a hideously beautiful creature. Akito's dream of dancing in the desert with Kyou was a good dream, but in the end, it was only that. A dream.

Kyou could continue dancing alone if he wished, but Akito refused to dance at all.

Got a kick for a dog, beggin' for love
Gotta have my suffering so that I can have my cross
I know a cat named easter, he says will you ever learn
You're just an empty cage girl if you kill the bird

"Crucify"

Tori Amos

~fin

31 July 2004

-- I know Kyou is allowed in the Inner Circle at New Year's, along with everyone else, but I think by now Akito assumes that Kyou's not going to come for New Year's. Thus, the next time Kyou would be in the Inner Circle would be when he is locked up.