Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Mixed Fruit ❯ The Purpose of Nostalgia ( Chapter 4 )

A/N: Written in response to Niamh St.George's `The More Things Change' collected in `Bite Sized Fruit'. Originally intended as a `missing scene' from Vol. 2/Chapter 9 of the Manga where Hatori visits Kaibara High.

 

The high school Cultural Festival, for most it was the kind of event that might evoke a fond nostalgia for `days gone past,' but Sohma Hatori wasn't particularly given to that sort of thing. Besides, he wasn't here to enjoy himself; there was business to be done. As he scanned the crowd in an attempt to keep track of Momiji, there was a brief moment of recognition when he saw a familiar face among the many, one he couldn't quite put into context. He considered a moment, then turned back, hoping to pick her out of the crowd and pin down that errant voice at the back of his mind whispering `You know her,' but he'd gotten too far away. His stubborn insistence on going without glasses whenever possible meant that he was at a disadvantage at times like this. Simply put, his vision wasn't what it had once been.

 

With a slight frown, Hatori turned back to the task at hand. He used color and movement to easily pick out the energetic Rabbit among the calmer, uniformed students and increased his pace to catch up with the boy just as he bounded in to one of the classrooms. The walls were blazoned with banners and posters, but it was a small printed sheet immediately next to the door that caught Hatori's attention.

 

Class 1-D

Onigiri Shop

Shiraki Mayuko, Teacher

 

The sign went on to list the class representatives and roster of students, but Hatori never made it past the third line.

 

'Mayuko, here. That...explains it then.'

 

It seemed as though he'd been standing, affixed by this simple sheet of paper, for some time but in reality it could have been for no more than a moment or two. Hatori heard exclamations and commotion from inside the room and realized that they were, without a doubt, the result of Momiji's entrance. He was here for a reason, and nostalgia would have to wait.

 

It wasn't until some time later, after Momiji had transformed back and he found himself ensconced in the first floor lounge waiting for the school to page Honda Tohru, that he allowed his thoughts to turn back to that glimpse through the crowd. Hatori lit a cigarette and took a rare moment to indulge his memories.

 

Shiraki Mayuko, Kana's best friend. He hadn't seen her since then, hadn't seen her since before Kana had been sent away, really. He'd still been healing himself, of no use to anybody let alone as comfort to the woman he loved and certainly in no condition to handle Mayuko. Shigure had taken care of her, it was only appropriate he be the one to do so after all. They'd allowed her just enough knowledge about Kana's…condition to keep her curiosity at bay, then arranged for the two women to see one another. Shigure had handled all of it.

 

He took a particularly long draw on his cigarette, then carefully regarded the end before tipping the ashes into a waiting tray. He wondered briefly, idly, if she had seen him through the crowd. Shaking his head as if to clear the uncharacteristic desire to somehow connect with his past, he gave a slight snort, exhaling long streams of smoke through his nostrils.

 

It was a foolish, wasteful thought. Even if she had, what then? She certainly hadn't chosen to make herself known to him and he'd hardly blame her for it. After all, what was there he could possibly say? What kind of apology could compare to the damage he'd done to someone she cared so deeply about--and then compounded by sending that person away. No...even if she'd seen him, she had avoided him with good reason.

 

Stubbing out the remains of his cigarette, Hatori lit a fresh one and angled his chair so he faced the door. Honda Tohru was still coming and that at least was one situation still nominally under control. There was still time to step in, to impress on her the realities of their situation. Thinking of the woman upstairs who'd lost her friend, and the woman he'd loved who'd lost...so much more than that only strengthened his resolve in that respect.

 

'Sometimes,' he mused. 'Perhaps nostalgia does serve a purpose.'