Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Outside the Dream ❯ One-Shot

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

"Outside the Dream"
a Fruits Basket fanfic by Ysabet MacFarlane (ba087@chebucto.ns.ca)

[Written for the akito_sohma ML 2004 holiday contest. The chapter 97 Akito
spoiler is in effect.]

*******

The bells that will bring in the new year haven't started ringing yet; Kureno
thinks it may be another twenty minutes or so before they begin, but doesn't
know for certain. His watch is back in his house. He doesn't know _where_ in
his house, exactly. If asked, he would probably be able to remember; his life
lends itself to attention to detail.

It also lends itself to leaving his watch at home. It isn't often important for
Kureno to know the precise time.

Nineteen minutes, more or less. He sighs and slides the door open a crack,
enough to let his voice into the room. "Akito?" Her silence is an
invitation--she usually welcomes his presence, but is quick to tell him when he
is unwanted. He opens the door the rest of the way and steps into the darkness.

The single candle burning in the window brings no light; it only heightens the
shadows, giving his eyes no chance to adjust. Akito is sitting on the floor,
staring up at it. Kureno can barely make out the starkness of her silhouette,
already rigid with the discipline she maintains everywhere but in her private
rooms.

She comes to her feet to greet him, thin hands reaching out for his, but there
is no warmth in the gesture; it is automatic, empty, a sign that she is
unsettled, that her mood could turn in a moment.

His goddess--he can think of her no other way--is as triune as the Christan god,
or the Hindu.

Child, viper, god. Need, poison, divinity.

Kureno takes her in his arms because it is what he always does, because it is a
necessary part of their dance together.

"They're going to dance soon," he murmurs, fingering the soft hair at the nape
of her neck. She shivers with anticipation.

"Yuki will dance for me," she replies. Kureno does not remind her that the
Rat's part in this dance is a supporting one, as his year dies out, or that it
will be another eleven years before he dances for her again. She knows, but
sees only what she wants to see.

He tries to visualize Akito in eleven years. He imagines her, twenty-eight
years old: the face he sees is as untouched by the years as the one she wears
now. He isn't quite able to picture her with lines from laughter or smiles, and
has no desire to imagine the lines left by cruelty and bitterness.

Kureno, too, sees what he wants to see.

***

When Akito first enters the room where her Jyuunishi are gathered for the ritual
banquet, she doesn't look at them. Instead, she examines the delicate
arrangement of pine and bamboo at the window, savors the scent of the
traditional plums. It is almost as subtle as the bond between her and the
others in the room, almost as heady, almost as beautiful. She turns away
slowly, feeling their pull, and the way they are drawn to her in turn.

She ignores, as she must, the way the bond pushes back against Kureno. With the
full zodiac assembled, the bond has its own life, is almost conscious of its
brokenness. The parts that are whole recoil from the damage, as if it might
spread. Eleven pairs of eyes never quite look at Kureno.

She circles the room in silence, touching each of them as she passes: her
fingers trail through hair here, caress a shoulder there. She touches them all,
marking them, and they respond to her. On this night, she will allow no
distance between herself and them, and they bow to her will. Momiji is subdued;
Isuzu is withdrawn rather than brooding; Hatsuharu's eyes are completely focused
and in the moment. Akito pauses over him, admiring the way the splashes of
color in his clothing set off his hair. She remembers that he, too, will dance
for her, and she smiles at him, caught up in the strength of the bond. Then she
turns to Hatori, bends to rest her head against his, and completes her circuit
of the room.

She kneels, arranging herself with more care than she usually allows herself.
Kureno takes his place at her side, slightly behind her; she knows without
looking that he is avoiding the others' eyes as they avoid his. She says
nothing, only looks out at them. Once the dance, the true ritual, is over, the
formality will be broken. She almost wants to hold it back. But elsewhere,
everywhere, the temple bells are ringing; the Rat and the Ox are on their feet,
and their god allows herself to be captivated by them. The dance of the
Jyuunishi is as old as the curse on their family. For all Akito--or anyone
else--knows, it may have been danced by the spirits themselves before the Sohmas
took up its steps.

***

The dance itself flows out of them without rehearsal or premeditation. Kureno
watches as the two boys begin to move, accompanied only by the faint sound of
the bells that are always sewn into the ritual costume. There is an extra
beauty to Haru and Yuki's dance; the two of them have both studied martial arts
long enough that grace and certainty are a simple fact. There is no story in
the dance, only the turning of the year; no trace of the hurt and history that
separated the dancers as children.

Kureno watches while Yuki dances the last steps of his year, watches the balance
shift as Haru takes control of it. The Ox's dance evolves into something very
different from the Rat's perfection: wilder, less restrained. The dance reveals
as much about the dancer as it tells about the possessing spirit; Haru loses
himself in it in a way Yuki never could, is more willing to surrender himself to
something beyond his control. Kureno feels a moment of sympathetic
understanding, can almost imagine that the bond still exists between them. The
pain of the loss surges up, raw and empty.

Eight years until his own turn to dance comes around. He wonders if he will be
able to dance, or if his attempt will reveal the secret he and Akito have kept
so carefully.

He looks away just enough to watch Akito watching. From the subtle changes of
her expression, he sees the strength of a boy maturing fast; he sees the way the
dance continues until Haru is literally on the edge of collapse; he sees Akito's
eyes as the Ox stops moving, hears the ragged breathing that is suddenly the
only sound in a room that had been gently filled with the sound of bells.
Watches while she reaches out and touches the boy's face, caresses him in a way
that makes Kureno tense.

*She's a child herself,* he tells himself, in precisely the same way that he
tells himself she is _not_ a child when she takes him into her bed. A more
honest voice whispers, *and he belongs to her. I don't.* He tells himself that
he prefers the way Akito touches him--not as an equal, but not quite as a
possession.

The stillness in the room continues. Kureno finally glances away, finds Shigure
watching him. There is no comfort in that gaze, but Kureno tries to meet it, to
avoid seeing Akito entranced by the Jyuunishi bond, by the pleasure of touching
a lovely boy who is more completely _hers_ than most people could begin to
imagine. Shigure smiles the tiniest of smiles, and there is even less comfort
in that. Kureno looks away again, but there is nowhere safe for his gaze to
land; the other Jyuunishi shift uncomfortably under his eyes, and Akito--

Akito stands, still holding Haru's face between her hands; his head tilts back,
and Kureno sees his eyes. Wide open, still caught in the spell of dancing for
his god. Kureno watches as Akito slides her hands away, and Haru's head drops
as if a string has been cut.

***

The banquet ends shortly before dawn. Akito leans wearily on Kureno's arm as he
walks her back to her private rooms. "Stay?" she asks at the door, the first
thing she has said to him in hours. He wonders if she knows what it means to
him when she asks him for anything, rather than assuming he'll do exactly as she
tells him.

He wonders what it does mean to him, as he follows her to the window. She
slumps against him, and he leans down to inhale the scent of her hair, as if
taking in even that small part of her will bind them together.

Akito is so still against him that he wonders if he is only dreaming that she is
still breathing. Her silence makes him imagine tears, lost tears, tears without
anger, and he strokes her hair as if she is weeping.

As the sun rises he tries to look into it. He doesn't make a wish. He only
looks.

********

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!

"Outside the Dream" © 2004 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
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