Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ The Chime Child ❯ Chapter 5

Yukika curled up tightly in the comforting grey evening darkness of the stairway. She didn't want to cry.

Whatever happens, I shall not cry.

Whatever happens, I shall not cry.

Whatever happens, I shall not cry.

It was mainly her pride that had taken the blow, foolish, insensible pride. Hurt that her sister hadn't put up more of a fight. Hurt that the Soumas should be so averse to her presence. And fear as well; worry, about where she would stay, and whether or not she'd have to go crawling back to her conquered apartment.

"Kika-kun?"

Oh no.

"Kika-kun?"

I'm not here.

"Kika-kun?"

Leave me alone! Why can't I cry in peace?

Because you have no right to cry here. You have no right to cry anywhere.

Ok, that was true. "I'm over here, Tohru."

"Kika-kun." Tohru knelt down beside her, seeing the little figure huddled up. "Are you alright, Kika?"

Yukika frowned. "I've just been kicked out of my own apartment, had my hopes crushed, and am now close to tears on a smelly, lemon-polished floor. Of course I'm alright! Why wouldn't I be?" The moment she said it, she felt mean. After all, it wasn't Tohru's fault. And if she wanted to be brutally honest, which she didn't particularly want to be… then she couldn't honestly heap everything on the Soumas' heartlessness. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt their accepting Tohru, but not her as well.

"Tohru?"

Tohru turned from Yukika, and blinked at the blonde haired Momiji. His bright tresses looked like a miniature sun. "Over here, Momiji." Tohru heard Yukika mutter something that sounded like `Great, just what I don't need'.

"Is she with you, Tohru?" asked Momiji, gingerly making his way over to them. Tohru looped an arm protectively over Yukika, making her feel like even more of a beast. "Yes, she's with me, Momiji," said Tohru.

"What?" asked Yukika, looking up at him.

Momiji bent down, so he was almost nose to nose with Yukika. He smiled brightly at her. "Don't worry," he told her, trying to disguise his own upset feelings with bright jollity. "If you don't have a place, I can hide you at home. There's a big cupboard! And I'll bring you food! And water! And toys!"

To Tohru's surprise, Yukika seemed to brighten slightly (but then, such escapism appealed to her). "And a blanket, and a pillow," she reminded him, wiping her eyes and her cheeks. Momiji grinned.

"Tohru-kun!" Shigure yodeled. "Tohru-kun! Could you bring Minake-san down? We've reached a decision!"

"I thought they reached the decision long ago?" remarked Yukika, bitterly, to Momiji.

"Now don't be sour, it doesn't suit you," rebuked Momiji.

"Bossy."

Tohru was feeling a bit out of the exchange, and the sight of the other four Soumas gathered at the foot of the stairs made her nerves stand on end. "Tohru? Are you alright?" asked Yukika, worried because beside her Tohru was making fast cheeping noises, which were actually meant to be words, sentences and apologies. A Tohru-esque prayer. Shigure held out Yukika's dry clothes, and black briefcase.

"There's a small studio upstairs," he said cheerfully. "Get these things there. It's a bit messy, and in consideration of that fact, I'm willing to drop the rent. How's 8500 yen to you?"

Yukika blinked, missed a step on the stairs and fell down. Momiji grabbed at her dressing gown, so she didn't break her leg, or fall onto any Souma. But Hatori was already having doubts. "I hope she's not going to do that all the time," he whispered to Shigure.

"No, probably not all the time, maybe just half of it!" declared Shigure. "Or do you want to spend some money on posture lessons?"

"How about helping me off the floor and getting some bandages for the cuts on her legs?" suggested Yuki, going off to do as he suggested. Yukika glared at Shigure.

"I could sue you for those faulty stairs."

"I'll deny everything. I'll say you afflicted those bruises on yourself. I'll say that you just want to make money out of my kindness. I'll say-"

"I'll say you've been reading too many lawyer books," growled Kyou.

Tohru shocked everyone by bursting into tears and hugging Yukika hard, unceremoniously shoving Momiji out of the way. "I'm so, so glad!"

Yukika smiled. She didn't know why - but it made her feel much better that someone was glad she came to stay. A pack of bandages whacked Tohru in the back of her head. Yuki glared at Kyou.

"I said pass it to Minake-san, not whack Honda-san in the head!"

"Are you too lazy to just walk a few steps, you rat?" bellowed Kyou.

Tohru sighed into Yukika's shoulder. "Oh bother…"

***

"Oh bother…" muttered Yukika, as Shigure showed her into the `small studio upstairs'. "I thought you said it was a little of a mess?"

"Maybe I didn't exaggerate enough this time," he agreed. Hatori, standing on the other side of Yukika, rolled his eyes.

The brown, softwood floor was grey as cement with dirt. A few dead cockroach bodies lay around. The windows were gauzed over with cobwebs. The little bed in the corner, the only sign that this room had once been inhabited, had holes, and stuffing was coming out. "I have to clean this up by myself?" wailed Yukika.

"I'll help you!" said Tohru stoutly, even though even her housework loving heart was quailing.

"No, you won't. I'll do it myself," contradicted Yukika. She smiled sunnily at Tohru. "I can take care of myself; please don't worry yourself, Tohru."

"Amazing," muttered Hatori. "That Tohru can get anyone to like her."

"No one likes perfection, and Tohru isn't perfect," laughed Shigure. "But at least she'll keep Minake-san quiet for a while." Yukika turned around and fixed him with the Eye. Shigure giggled nervously.

"I'll supply the brushes, the brooms, the cleaning liquid."

"The new bed," added Yukika.

"Oh alright, a new bed."

***

Shigure didn't have to fork out for the bed after all, Hatori wouldn't let him. If Shigure had had his way, being a shopaholic, Yukika might have had a new bed, a new carpet, new bookshelves, and maybe a TV, whether she wanted them or not. Yuki and Kyou, paid clandestinely by Hatori, were hired to haul Yukika's things from here to there.

"Say `hi' to her for me," smiled Ryuu, sitting on a cream colored couch, waving good bye at them. "And you might want to sleep on a hard mattress tonight, after lugging all that stuff on your spine; a feather bed could be disastrous."

"Thank you for the advice," said Yuki, just managing to smile back politely. Kyou didn't even try. A burst of obscenity was heard from outside. Yuki scowled. "Can't you do anything right, you stupid neko?"

Kyou's reply was equivalent to: Go boil your head, but not so polite.

"Well, lucky ol' Yukika's going to have a nice time," murmured Ryuu to the couch under her breath. "With those two around, besides the cover boy looks, they'll be an everlasting soap opera."

"Ryuu, there's a red-eyed kid sitting outside with Yukika's furniture on his back…" said a tall man, coming in. He nodded politely at Yuki.

"My brother," introduced Ryuu. "My older brother. Goyjun."

"Yukika?" said Goyjun, staring at Yuki, who cleared his throat.

"No… actually, `Yuki'."

"She ran off, didn't she?" Goyjun had black hair that reached his shoulders, and was plaited. His eyes were long and slanted and they looked at Ryuu accusingly, but with not much surprise.

"Yup. Didn't take too well to the fact that both of us were staying here with her."

Yuki had the feeling he was eavesdropping on a private conversation, but he listened anyway. Goyjun frowned. "Ryuu, you shouldn't have done that. We need Yukika-"

"Please, we haven't even found them yet! Or the others!"

"Shh." Goyjun remembered Yuki's presence, and winked at him. "Little pitchers have big ears, to use a cliché."

Ryuu laughed. "Bye. Say `hi' to Yukika from both Goyjun and I."

Goyjun was nicer. "I'll help you unload the last of that stuff."

***

"Your brother is there too," said Yuki to Yukika, who had a flowered scarf tied around her face as she swept the floor. Clouds of dust flew as she moved the broom. Yuki coughed, the dust irritating his lungs.

"He is?" The only part of Yukika's small face that showed were her eyes, and they were wide with surprise.

"Yes, his name is Goy-j-jun, isn't it?" coughed Yuki. Oh no… he couldn't-breathe-

"Souma-san!" cried Yukika, as Yuki began to hyperventilate, his lavender eyes showing his panic.

"My-asthma-" gasped Yuki, feeling his chest clench tight, his throat close up.

"Then why did you come in here with all the dust?" scolded Yukika. Yuki just shook his head, wheezing. Yukika closed her eyes, calmed herself down, dropped the broom, and started to rub Yuki's back.

"Calm down, don't try so hard, don't get worked up…" she chanted, her dusty hands leaving grey marks on Yuki's baby blue shirt.

Tears came to Yuki's eyes as he struggled. Kyou entered the room, with the tray of lemonade Tohru had sent him up with. Yukika stared at him appealingly, thinking that as a member of the household, Kyou would know what to do.

Kyou did know what to do. He calmly put the lemonade down, and picked Yuki up, privately glad that Yukika hadn't tried to carry Yuki out, which was what she should have done. But God knows' a wheezing mouse wasn't exactly normal. "Come on," he said roughly to Yukika. "Keep talking to him, and rub his back."

Yukika nodded, doing the best she could, but the look she flashed Kyou was one of admiration and respect and gratitude. Yuki calmed down, gradually, enough to croak a `thank you' to Yukika and Kyou.

"Don't tell Honda-san," he whispered. "She'll worry."

"We won't," promised Yukika. "But you're not coming up to the studio again, till I've gotten it cleaned up."

Yuki nodded weakly, and unconsciously, Kyou hugged him tighter. "You'd better take him downstairs," Yukika told Kyou.

Yuki should have fought against Kyou's arms. But they were so strong, so comforting… and the asthma attack had left him tired. Kyou was a bit surprised that Yuki wasn't squalling to be let down, Yuki's head rested on Kyou's shoulder confidingly…

Both boys gave themselves a mental slap.

"Thanks for the lemonade!" called Yukika, waving at Kyou. For the first time, he smiled at her.

***

"It might actually work out," sighed Yukika gratefully, resisting the urge to flump down on her nice white clean bed and stain it with dirt. The dead cockroaches were gone, the dust was almost gone, and Yukika could see out the windows. The glasses of lemonade were empty now, and the cups were soiled with her dirty fingerprints. Now that most of the work was done, Yukika could actually look around and properly see her surroundings for the first time.

A short spiral staircase in a corner of the second floor led up to her loft. Scattered around were her plastic bookcases, her tables, her wardrobe, her things that Yuki and Kyou had taken from her apartment. The second part of her job would be to move those around, and then sort out the tiny mountain of books, knickknacks, and clothes.

There was a small sink in the corner of her room, and when Yukika turned the tap, the rusty red water that flowed out gradually cleared. She washed her face, and her hands, and hoped her poor back wasn't broken.

"Kika?" Tohru entered the studio brightly. "How's it going?"

"Fine," replied Yukika, turning around. She grinned when she realized that Momiji was there as well, her ally.

"Wa-a-a-a-a-ah," exclaimed Momiji. "How long did it take you to do this?"

Yukika counted the hours off on her fingers. "Seven hours, more or less."

Momiji's eyes widened. "O-o-o-o," he breathed. "Can I help now?"

Without waiting for her reply, he started to dig into the pile of her belongings. Yukika blinked. She felt like an old limp rag. Just watching Momiji's energy left her breathless. "Is he always like that?" she asked Tohru floppily.

Tohru smiled fondly at Momiji. "Most of the time."

Later that night, the pile on Yukika's floor still a pile, but the room clean at last, Yukika sat on her bed, writing.

Tohru has a lot of maternal feeling for the Soumas. It's weird. Even the older ones, like Hatori (the one who doesn't seem to like me), she mothers. You can fairly see the (over)protectiveness shining in her eyes. They are a nice family though. I wonder how many there are, and how many I'll meet?