Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ On Our Knees ❯ The relationship began. . . ( Chapter 3 )

Shigure brought his face close to Mii’s, nuzzled her neck. He could smell her desire hanging heavy in the air, mingled with his own. The trace of anxiety he’d picked up on earlier was long gone, and he was glad.

He teased her wildly because he enjoyed it, and he knew she liked it, too; even at the height of her protests, he could barely detect a fraction of the torment she accused him of causing her. Her extravagant outbursts, her bids for attention–those he could handle, because for some strange reason they brought her pleasure, of that he was certain. But when she was genuinely upset or conflicted, her fear invaded his nostrils, overwhelming him, making him feel helpless. Shigure hated to feel helpless.

Like now. It enraged him that he would never, EVER be able to take her in his arms. He’d already vented this particular frustration to Hatori, not that he expected or got any sympathy.

“It’s a good thing you can’t show her more affection. She’d interpret that as some kind of declaration.” Hatori was always there to remind him that being cursed wasn’t all bad. Not that Hatori was very optimistic himself, and he was more than willing to listen to any ideas about how they might break the curse, although he considered it pointless. But he wouldn’t sit back and listen to Shigure complain about their miserable destiny.

He didn’t put up with much from Ayame, either. Ayame liked to pretend that it was all a huge joke, that the curse gave meaning to an otherwise pathetic human existence, but Hatori was not above cutting through Ayame’s bullshit to make him acknowledge the pain sometimes instead of always pushing it down.

Shigure knelt at Mii’s side and closed his eyes, letting the anger flow over and through him. When he was a child, he broke things and screamed his rage; how he hated it when anyone accused him of throwing a tantrum! As an adult, he still got angry, but he only rarely gave in to it; he often found ways to laugh through it. He considered it a matter of pride not to lose control, but the odor rising from Mii’s body made it difficult to concentrate.

Reaching back, he slipped his left hand into his heko obi and twisted his wrist in the sash until the obi squeezed his stomach. He didn’t have much time in this position because his hand would rapidly turn blue, but the pain did make it easier to concentrate.

On his knees he went behind Mii and draped his body over hers, right hand flat on the tatami to help support his weight. He smiled and closed his eyes as he felt her warmth the length of his torso, thrusting his hips ever so lightly into her bottom. He came closer and moved gently as she lifted her hips to meet his, raised her head to kiss and nuzzle the cheek he offered her. As they moved together, Shigure imagined pulling her up with both arms around her body, then turning her around to sit on his thighs, still bound in his strong embrace as he entered her. . .

The pressure from his swelling hand dragged him out of his fantasy, and he pulled away to untwist his wrist. He heard Mii sigh, and swatted her bottom several times with his numb left hand, which helped to bring the feeling back to his fingers. “So, it was good for you, too, huh?”

Mii let out a snorting laugh, one of her most endearing qualities in Shigure’s eyes. First and foremost though, and from the very beginning, it was her scent. When he had first smelled it, indescribable sweetness drenching the crowded hallway, he had to excuse himself and go quickly to the boys’ restroom.

Scarcely a minute later, he’d taken the edge off his suddenly raging passion and was sitting on his heels on the floor of the stall, back pressed against the door, breathing deeply but only smelling disinfectant and his own familiar scent. The memory of that ambrosial sweetness excited and bewildered him–why had he never noticed it before? When he came back to the hallway, he found Hatori, leaning against the wall and looking bored as usual.

“I can see you sniffing, Shigure. Please don’t slobber in my direction.”

Shigure closed his eyes, inhaled through his mouth. The girls, the boys, the overload of pheromones–the crowded high school would drive him crazy with desire, if he let his guard down. He breathed deeply through his mouth, blocking out Mii’s scent. “Hatori, there’s a girl that I have to meet.”

“That’s what you’re smelling?” Shigure nodded, eyes still closed. “She must be something else.”

“Without a doubt.”

“Which one?”

“I’m not sure.” He ventured a sniff, as casually as possible, and the sweetness washed over him again, but fainter.

“Cue the bloodhounds.”

“Come on, she’s moving away, I think.”

“No, thanks, Shigure. Tell me about the hunt later. And keep your paws to yourself.”

When Shigure had finally managed to track her down, her ordinary appearance startled him. Somehow he’d imagined a knockout, someone resembling Miss Japan. She was cute certainly, but in a very ordinary way. There was nothing to indicate that underneath her plain-Jane façade her raging hormones were inviting any and all takers, nothing except the chemical cloud that intoxicated Shigure.

He spent the rest of the day lost in his fantasies, dreaming and plotting his deliverance, and by the end of sixth period, he had a plan. Later in his bedroom, Hatori tweaked it and Ayame added his own stipulations.

The next morning after arranging to walk Mii home, Shigure was rubbing his hands together excitedly, the anticipation almost giving him goose bumps. “She said yes!”

“Okay, but that’s only the first step. She has to agree to the terms tonight, or we go no further.” Hatori, the voice of reason, couldn’t dampen Shigure’s rising spirits.

“She’ll say yes? You’re sure, Shigure?” Ayame played it cool, but Shigure knew that he too was beginning to look forward to their new adventure.

“She doesn’t want to say no!”

“Maybe she doesn’t know how.”

“Hatori, your plan will give her every opportunity to learn.”

“Shigure, I don’t have to remind you that this was your idea–I just came up with some guidelines so that you two wouldn’t get us all pulled out of school.”

“My dearest Hatori, always the clever one!” Ayame wrapped an arm around Hatori’s shoulder and kissed his cheek.

“If I had any sense, I would have gone straight to Akito. If he finds out about this–“

“He won’t.” Shigure picked up his black leather book bag, checking again the small inner pocket for the velvet cuffs before buckling it closed. “Mii will say yes. This weekend, the fun begins!”

“Shigure, you’re not a mind reader; the only thing you know is how she smells. That can change in an instant.”

“Hatori, if you had a nose like me, you wouldn’t be wasting our time with your gloom and doom. This is going to happen.”

“You of all people know that we aren’t at the mercy of our animal instincts.”

“No, but if her animal instincts fail, my powers of persuasion will take over!” Shigure refused to abandon his anticipatory optimism, and his confidence proved justified.


From the very beginning and despite Hatori’s periodic reality checks, Shigure had been certain that Mii’s strong pheromones and his ability to interpret them would give him a great deal of control in their relationship, and consequently in Mii’s life. Although he didn’t always understand exactly why she was feeling happy or sad or scared at any given moment, he gradually learned where her buttons were and which ones to push, depending on the circumstances.

She didn’t like to talk much about the things they did together, so it was through trial and error that Shigure came to know her intimately. She relished his domination during play, but resisted any control of her activities when she wasn’t actually with him, protecting her independence by guarding that certain distance.

When he discovered her not so latent bisexual tendencies, his jealousy raged even as he tried to deny it, and she wouldn’t let him near the girls she dated. But it quickly became obvious to him that she wasn’t trying to replace him, just fill up the empty spaces in her life. And she never saw other men, he was certain. But the jealousy lingered and surfaced sometimes, although she’d never mentioned fidelity and neither had he.

When Hatori informed him that she was leaving town, Shigure’s hackles rose. Why hadn’t she called?

“She doesn’t tell you everything, Shigure.”

“Apparently she doesn’t tell me anything, except what time she’ll be over!”

Hatori explained that Mii’s decision involved a woman, and Shigure felt a pang of that irrational jealousy, but his pride allowed him to play it cool.

“You should call her.”

“Hatori, I haven’t called her since high school. She calls me, like she calls you and Aya.”

“That’s just it. She called us, but she hasn’t called you.”

“She called Ayame, then? What does he think?”

“She made light of it, but then she would with him. She never talks to him about anything important.”

“So she told you, but won’t let you do anything?”

“I’m not even supposed to be telling you.”

“Uh-oh, somebody’s in trouble. . .”

Hatori rose from the table, reached for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. “I’ve told you, now you know. It’s your conscience.”

“I thought you thought I didn’t have one.”

“Oh, right.” Hatori lit two cigarettes, handed one to Shigure, then went to stand by the open door. “You take absolutely no responsibility for Mii, but if we hadn’t corrupted her–“

“Corrupted?”

“She didn’t know what she was getting into.”

“With a sister like Saeko? You’re joking, right? You’ve heard the stories.”

“She was still a child.”

“We’re all the same age, Hatori! It was perfectly legal.”

Hatori said nothing. “She never said no, Hatori. Not once.” Shigure remembered the times he smelled her fear, and puffed hard on his cigarette. He’d always been able to calm her, but then he thought, maybe she got scared when I wasn’t around. “She should have known better.”

Hatori simply raised an eyebrow and kept staring out the open door.

“Okay, so I’ll call her.”

So Shigure tried to call several times later that day, but always got her machine and he didn’t leave a message. He didn’t even have the number of her cell, but he didn’t want to admit as much to Hatori.

He decided the next morning to go to her train stop. If she was looking for a job, she’d probably be on her way downtown at some point. He spent almost two hours on a bench, reading and making notes in his journal, until at last he could smell her. He looked up and she was still ten yards away coming up the stairs to the platform, but the fear, the anxiety oozed out of every pore. She looked completely normal but when she got closer he could see that she’d already had a good cry to begin her day.

She let him take her to the park and buy her kakigori, and then they went to sit on a bench. She didn’t tell him at first, playing it casual but when he told her that he’d come to her train stop just to check up on her, she almost started crying again, and he insisted on hearing the whole story from her, even though Hatori had already given him the big picture.

The new receptionist in the building where she worked had come on to her. Strong. According to Mii, she couldn’t have said no if she’d tried, but she certainly hadn’t done that, because Ran was hot and pushed all her buttons. “Honestly, Shigure, I would have told you but it all happened so fast. I spent two weeks with no sleep–just working and fucking.”

Apparently, though, Mii wasn’t enough for the receptionist; when things slowed down a bit between them, she’d come on to Mii’s boss’s boss, who was married with children. Mii didn’t know how he found out about her relationship with Ran, but when she got her notice, she accused Ran, who took it badly. “So when I started contacting people, it was like I was poison. Not one publishing house will even interview me.” It seemed that Mii’s rival had sought revenge; with or without Ran’s encouragement; it was impossible to be sure, not that it really mattered.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Mii didn’t answer. “Hatori told me you called Ayame. I’m more than a little insulted.” He smiled, trying to lighten things up, but Mii didn’t respond. He was finding it hard to joke about their relationship. Maybe Hatori’s wrong, he thought, and I really do have a conscience. “So now you’ve learned your lesson. Not everyone is as nice as the Mabudachi Trio!”

Mii snorted but said nothing. “Do you want me to see what I can do?”

“I don’t want to become a problem for you, Shigure. I want things to be like always.”

“Are you sure, Mi-chan? Even I do pull some strings, you don’t owe me anything, you know. You never have.”

Mii looked at her hands on her lap. “Tomorrow I have to pay my landlord or I’m out on the street. Saeko doesn’t have any room, so if I don’t find something really fast. . ..”

“I’ll handle it, Mi-chan. Take this and call me tomorrow.” Pulling a wad of bills out of his pocket, Shigure took Mii’s hand and closed her fingers around the money. “This is a gift, Mii. If you never call me again, that’s up to you.”

Startled, Mii looked up. “Why would I do that? You’re probably the only good thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Shigure cringed inside, but still allowed his pride to speak, rather than his long-dormant conscience . “You’re obviously overwrought, dear friend–you know that I am not a good thing. And in a very short while, when you’re back on your feet, you’ll remember the real Shigure-sama, and why you like him so much better.”

Several weeks later when she called to find out when they could meet, Shigure knew that his intuition had proven crystal clear once more. Kneeling now at her side, crisis and pangs of conscience long since passed, he’d overcome the memory of his demon, his cursed fate. Now he was ready for some fun.