Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Light in My Life ❯ Inquiries ( Chapter 17 )

A haari is a yukata/kimono overcoat that is essential to men's formal attire. Note the red and purple overcoat-type cloth that Akito wears in episodes 8 and 26.

17: Inquiries

"Tohru-chan, can you pass me that roll there?" Hanajima asked, pointing to a thick roll of paper. Tohru nodded happily, handing it to her friend.

"So, was the storm just in town here?" Tohru inquired, sitting back. The front of Hana's house had been demolished by a fallen tree branch. A summer storm had broken the tree and had sent the bough right through a pair of shoji panels and one wall. The damage wasn't unfixable, but it was a rather daunting task.

Hana had called Tohru the day before, asking if the other girl could stay over for the night. Tohru had happily obliged, calling to tell Hatori she wouldn't be coming the next morning. He had been rather stoic about the matter and told her he would inform Akito immediately. She wasn't worried about the matter, but during the night, a great crash had awoken the two girls.

So, they had spent their morning repairing the front doors. Lunchtime was rolling around, and Tohru blushed as her stomach grumbled hungrily.

"What have you been doing since school let out?" Megumi asked in a quiet voice as he sat across from the two girls at the table. Tohru smiled.

"One of Yuki's cousins is sick, and I have been visiting him every morning. Then I have my part time job at night, and I shop and cook during the day," she replied. "It's busy, but I like it. I can't see Hana-chan and Uo-chan as much, though!"

Hana smiled. "As long as Tohru is happy," she said.

***

Why wasn't she here this morning? She had come every morning for two hours since I asked her to make food for me. That was one week ago, and I had already grown used to her presence. I had long gained back movement in my arms and legs, but I refrained from letting her know this. Instead, I would pace around my room during the day, then restore myself to being "bed-ridden" in the mornings.

I don't really know why I did it. I had never been one to like attention, pity, or sympathy from anyone. If anything, I liked to be alone, left with my own thoughts, unless it was by my hand that someone came to me in my room. If I really felt the desire to see a person or speak with them, I could drive myself or arrange a ride with Hatori or Shigure. Shigure was a loyal dog, who always knew just what to say. I liked him. He appreciated me, and did what he could to give me what I wanted.

And for that reason, I did not demand much from him. I gave him his freedom from the main house, and let him continue on with his own professions and hobbies. I even allowed for that ridiculous renegade cat to live with him, as well as Yuki. I had let Yuki go. He should be thankful.

The door opened, and I looked up, expecting to see Tohru come in, bowing and apologizing for being late. I sat on a pillow near the desk, and I was awaiting her surprised expression at the fact I was now out of bed.

But I felt strangely disappointed when Hatori entered instead. "Honda Tohru called last night," he said. "She will be unable to come this morning, but will be by tomorrow." Hatori watched me.

Tomorrow? No! I wanted her to bring me food today. It was hard enough living on one meal a day. Did she know what she was doing to me? "Hatori, call her at once."

"Akito-san, she's not-"

"Tell her to come!" I suddenly yelled. I stood up, my body fully restored. Although I was still weak and fragile, I knew how imposing I could be when I wanted to. Hatori nodded quickly, turning and leaving the room.

I let my shoulders drop as I shrugged on my haari. It had the tendency to slip, and I usually didn't mind, but I disliked the red of its fabric dragging on the floor. I sat back down on the cushion, resuming propping my elbow on the desk with my chin resting on my palm. And I suddenly realized how boring my existence really was.

It was at that moment that I took notice of the canvas bag lying on the floor next to the desk. It might have been on top of the wooden object at one point, but was probably brushed off in a trip I had taken a few days before. I lifted the rather heavy bag up onto the desk, lifting the two handles.

I raised my eyebrows as I fished out some of the objects inside. There was a tiny flute, which I removed and lightly blew upon. The sound was high pitched but not unpleasant, and I set it down on the desk beside the bag where I could access it later. There was a little manga book, some romantic comedy short story that I had never heard of. I lifted out an art pad, which, when I flipped through the pages, I found to contain some rather intriguing pictures.

There was one of a pretty young girl, with flowing, curly, black hair. She was looking away from the artist, but she wore an extravagant dark purple mantle. I flipped the page again, seeing pictures of... my yard? I raised my eyebrows. I saw my bird drinking from my bird bath inside the room, and some other shots of fixed objects. They were all dated during the time in which I was comatose.

I put them away, barely glancing at the two other books. This Honda Tohru was obviously one for cute romantic things, things that I detested. The bag looked to have been left intentionally, so I supposed she had no idea that such personal items should be just sitting around in someone else's house. She was so forgetful and careless, it was no wonder.

It was some minutes later that I heard a light tap on my door. "Akito-san?" I heard a familiar voice.

***

Tohru had been disappointed to leave Hanajima's house so early in the day, but she couldn't deny Akito's request. Hana had been infinitely understanding, and had asked that Tohru come again the next weekend.

Tohru stood in front of Akito's door, waiting for him to respond. Although he was still bed-ridden, she felt uncomfortable about intruding. She had grown more and more used to him every day; he rarely spoke to her, but when he did, it was never rude or cruel with his words. Once he had said he liked her food better than that of his own kitchen, and it had sent Tohru's spirits sailing.

And now, she no longer felt uncomfortable in his presence. "Come in," replied Akito. Tohru opened the door, and was greeted with a new sight.

Akito was sitting on a pillow near the desk. He had her canvas bag in front of him, and was leafing through her drawing pad. She had left the drawings for him for no real reason, and had, after the first week, thought he was never going to look in it anyway. So, she forgot about it and never noticed when it disappeared off the desk.

"Y-you're up," Tohru said with a slight stutter. Akito stared at her, his expression as blank as always. "That's wonderful, Akito-san!"

Akito continued to look at her. He lifted one arm, propping it against the desk as he lifted himself onto his feet. Tohru opened her mouth to stop him, but the stone, unreadable look in his eyes halted her speech.

"Every day," Akito said, his voice low and almost inaudible, "you came. I don't understand you, Honda Tohru." He took a step toward her, his bare feet pressing into the tiamat floor. He had fixed his yukata and haari unconsciously, but they were both now slipping off one shoulder. The rosy fabric of the overhanging cloth lightly dragged along the ground, but the dark-haired man didn't seem to notice.

"You brought me flowers," he started again, "and when I told you to take them away, you brought different ones instead." He took another step, a lock of his almost black hair drifting in front of one murky eye. His hands hung loosely at his sides, his slim fingers curled slightly at his hip. His toes flexed against the floor as he moved even closer.

Tohru stood rooted to the spot, her eyes wide as he took one last stride towards her. Akito tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in a gauging expression. "You... told me they would miss me. You were wrong." He lifted one hand, his eyes softening as he ran one finger along her cheek. "No one would care about me... except you."

Tohru felt her breath quickening as he pressed one cold palm to her face. She had never been in such close proximity with Akito before; not even Yuki came this close to her. His nose was inches from her, and she felt herself suddenly wanting to bolt, to run as fast as she could.

She did care. Of course she did. At first, it had been an unconsciously obligatory visit where she hoped to make peace with the cruel man before he died. Then it had turned into a genuinely caring item on Tohru's part; she was just that kind of person. She had after tried to make the dying man as comfortable as possible. But when his health began to improve, her visits resulted from a pressure in her heart, one which insisted she give Akito the same attention and one some level, love, which other members of the family knew in their daily lives.

He was the unloved. He was the result of the darker parts of the Sohma family, and he was the heart of them. Tohru had never hoped to change anyone, but she at least wanted to make them feel worth. To feel someone would miss them if they were gone.

Akito lifted his other hand to her shoulder, his shaking fingers brushing against the yellow cotton sweater she wore. He had some height on her; five inches at most. He brushed his hand across her shoulder and down to her neck, his other arm following.

He lightly crossed his elbows, drawing the wide-eyed girl against him. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath that he felt he had been holding... forever.

"Akito...-san?"