Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ The Weary Traveler's City ❯ The Weary Traveler's City ( One-Shot )

The Weary Traveler's City

By, Jamie1317kast

 

Many years after Akito passed away, in a place known only as the Weary Traveler's City, Shigure discovers that there are several things that a person cannot hide from; including best friends.

 

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, don't sue.

 

AN~ written listening to Enya's May It Be. And, yes, this is a real city: Granada.

 

The Weary Traveler's City:

 

Shigure supposed that sooner or later, everyone came here. Well, not `here', literally, it was a different place for each person, but the figurative `here' of the Weary Traveler's City. Sooner or later, everyone who was tired, and lost, or traveling came here. Everyone came to their own special place that emptied them, soothed them, loved them, and filled them up again.

There were many nights when Shigure had done nothing but cry into his pillow, feeling the grief more sharply now that he was alone and a million miles from Sohma House. He didn't feel like he had the right to return home, nobody really needed him there anyway…

Or so he told himself as he dried his eyes again on his bed sheets and gazed out the window at the white moon.

 

The Weary Traveler's City spread out beneath him, down the hill and spilling into the valley. The white and clay-red roofs lay basking in the starlight, merging with the great, granite cathedrals, the winding, cobblestone roads, the extensive gardens of the palace, and the white-washed walls of the gypsy quarter carved into the hillside below him.

Shigure stood now on the outer edge of the city, perched atop the long, stone wall that ran the length of the hilltop. Behind him, barely visible in the cover of night, other hills poked out of the earth, leaving steep, winding valleys between them. Olive plantations and wine vineyards populated every inch of countryside as far as the eye could see. And the once raging river separating the palace and the gypsy quarter was now no more than a silty, winding, trickle.

Moved by something unseen in the air, Shigure pulled out his notebook. Ever since he had left Japan, he had been unable to write. But now, trying furiously to empty his thoughts of all angst concerning Akito, he tried to put thought into written word.

 

For several nights, Shigure sat on the disused wall, trying to write. Finally, he threw down his pen and paper in frustration. After his ranting about his complete and utter uselessness, he sighed heavily.

Shigure lay back against the cool grass, and let the wind soothe him.

Eventually, the sound of music reached his ears. Desperately longing for a companion, he stumbled down the steep slope in the darkness.

 

Pausing for a moment, he lost his footing and fell face first onto the rocky path. Shigure lay there, for how long, he did not know. All he could think was how hurt he was, how angry he was at himself for tripping over nothing, and how much he wished that he had told Akito how much he loved her before…

…before she died.

Determined not to give up for Akito's sake, Shigure pushed himself to his feet and started off down the path again, this time more slowly.

 

When at last he reached the door of the gypsy house from which the music was coming, he had fallen several more times, cried a great deal, and was almost obsessed with the music.

He paused outside the heavy, wooden door and leaned back against the white-washed wall, sinking down in pure exaughstion. His head leaned to the side wearily and his eyes fluttered at half-mast. The blue light of the moon bathed everything in calmness, and Shigure breathed in the gypsy music, thinking, for the moment, of nothing else.

All the pain of losing Akito, everything, slipped away as the melody and the rhythm rocked Shigure gently, like the passing of waves.

 

Hatori and Ayame shook Shigure awake, and he blinked stupidly at them. “ What are you two doing here?”

“ We've come to take you home, Shigure.” Hatori smiled kindly, a rare sight.

“ But,” He cast about for something to say. “ How on earth did you find me?”

Ayame chuckled gently, slipping his own jacket around Shigure's shoulders. “ Oh, Gure-san, you should know the answer to that well enough by now.” When Shigure didn't reply, Ayame shook his head and smiled. “ We're your best friends! If we can't find you, who can?”

And, Shigure, that Ayame was right. He'd been hiding long enough. The world, his future, and his best friends were waiting for him. Shigure suddenly stood and grinned. He took Hatori and Ayame's hands and held them tight.

“ That's right.” He whispered, half to himself as they led him down walkway by the river. “ It was a love song.”