XXXHolic Fan Fiction ❯ Kitsune Bi - An xXxHolic Fan-Fiction ❯ One ( Chapter 1 )

Kitsune Bi - An xXxHolic Fan-Fiction
By Ookami Kasumi

All characters property of CLAMP
Warning: Mature (NC-17) - Yaoi content, adult language, mild violence

Note: You do not have to be familiar with the series to follow the story.

 

Chapter One

 

Watanuki Kimihiro's Monday morning began normally enough. Well, as normally as any school day morning had begun since he'd come to stay in the time-space witch's sprawling and magically-infested mansion.

Yawning hugely, Kimihiro sat up and absently tugged at his sleeping robe to straighten it. Gods, did morning have to come so damned early? He crawled out from under the butterfly embroidered curtains of his four-poster bed and collected his wire-frame glasses from the night-table. A quick look at the clock told him that he had exactly two hours before he had to leave for school.

Scratching sleepily in unmentionable places, he padded barefoot across the hardwood floor pondering his internal to-do list. Shower, clothes, make the lunches, make the breakfast... He stopped at the decorative stool by the thoroughly western en suite bathroom door to collect the white shirt and dark pants of his school's summer uniform, then carried them into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

After a quick shower in the gleaming glass and chrome shower stall, Kimihiro slid into his clothes and stood before the mirror over the sink to comb his short-cropped black hair into some semblance of order, not that it ever did any good. His ultra-fine, fly-away hair had a nasty tendency to defy gravity and curve upward for no apparent reason what so ever.

While buttoning his short-sleeved white uniform jacket over his white t-shirt, he glanced at his at his right eye. The color was definitely off. It looked aqua greenish compared to the deep slate blue of his other eye. He sighed heavily. Since accepting half of Doumeki Shizuka's golden brown eye to restore sight to the eye that had been stolen by the Spider Queen, his eyes had not matched, though no one seemed to have noticed the color change.

Then again, no one ever noticed the things he did. He sighed heavily. Life would be so much easier if everyone else could see spirits too. Briefly, he wondered how much Yuuko would charge for that wish to be granted.

He lifted his chin and peered at his jaw-line. Still no whiskers. Not even a shadow of a mustache. He ground his teeth in annoyance. He was seventeen years old, but his face was still as smooth as a child's. Even his eyebrows were wrong, all slender, and arched. He glared at his face. It just wasn't right. A guy shouldn't have eyebrows that looked so…so…feminine.

Doumeki was only one month older, but he had decently masculine eyebrows. What was worse, Kimihiro was absolutely sure that he was already shaving.

Yet more reasons to be annoyed with the disgustingly handsome brute.

“Why is it that he's so damned blessed? We're the same freaking age, and practically the same height, yet he's got muscles and facial hair…”

And body hair.

Kimihiro's face filled with sudden heat. It was his biggest and most shameful secret. At seventeen, he no more body hair than he'd had back in grade-school; not under his arms, or even…down there.

Some of his classmates had already remarked on his nearly complete lack of leg hair during PE. For that reason alone, he detested wearing shorts. God help him, if anyone ever found out that he didn't have any…down there. He'd taken to being very careful to shower alone after PE.

He swiftly finished buttoning his white uniform jacket up to the throat in the proscribed manner, unlocked the door, then practically ran out of the bathroom. He really needed to stop looking into mirrors. It was not doing his temperament any good.

He dropped his neatly folded sleeping robe on the stool, stepped into the house-slippers to cover his stocking feet, and left his assigned room to pad down the polished wood floor of the narrow back hallway toward the kitchen.

He was very careful to watch for the right landmarks. Let's see, right turn at the table with the orange begonia plant against the left corner… Right turn in the cross hallway with the rectangular teal throw rug, not the round one… Left turn at the silk hanging banner with three yellow butterflies, not four… Since he'd started actually living there, he'd gotten lost coming from his bedroom more times than he really cared to admit. He rolled his eyes. Anyone would get confused in a half traditional Japanese, half turn-of-the-century Victorian building that was literally neither here nor there.

Kimihiro found the kitchen and celebrated with a small crow of triumph. Grabbing the plain white smock from the hook just inside the kitchen door, he strode across the screamingly modern kitchen to the massive refrigerator against the left wall. While perusing the contents for what to make for lunch, he shrugged into the short-sleeved smock and dug the matching kerchief from the front pocket. Tying the kerchief over his head, he calculated the refrigerator's contents verses Himawari-chan and Doumeki's appetites. Making a firm decision, he collected what he thought would be tasty and carried the whole pile to the island cabinet in the kitchen's center. He refused to even consider what Doumeki had requested on Friday, even though he'd collected those ingredients too.

He had breakfast simmering on the stove and two of the three black lacquered bento boxes packed for lunch when the kitchen door slid open with a slam.

A childishly sweet voice practically screamed from the door. “Good morning Watanuki, spelled April first!”

Kimihiro rolled his eyes heavenward. Of course, Mokona would be first to the kitchen. For a creature barely large enough to fill both his hands, long slender rabbit ears not-withstanding, he had a monstrous appetite. Then again, ninety percent of his tiny body was his mouth. “Good morning pork bun.”

Mokona burst out in sudden high-pitched laughter.

It wasn't nearly warning enough.

Something long, slender, furry, and surprising strong wriggled up Kimihiro's right pant-leg to slide up over his butt, and then further up under the back of his shirt trailing shivers and goose-bumps every inch of the way.

Kimihiro howled in surprise and danced clear across the kitchen, grabbing for the ticklish thing, but wasn't nearly fast enough to catch the snake-like white pipe-fox. “Gyaaa! Will you stop that?”

“He just wants to say good morning too.” The voice was smooth, languorous, sensual, and distinctly amused.

Kimihiro spared a very fast glance toward the tall, sleek, cinnamon-eyed woman whose layers of butterfly patterned morning robes were already sliding from her shoulders. Her knee-length, jet black hair was pinned up in loose yet graceful loops by her ears. He twisted all the way around, reaching for the elusive fox. “I know that, but does he have to do it by tickling me to death?”

The slender fox came up out of Kimihiro's clothes, looped itself around Kimihiro's throat, rather like a slender, furry scarf, and proceeded to lap Kimihiro's cheek with its tiny tongue.

Kimihiro gave one last hard shiver, then sighed and stroked the fox's tiny head with his finger. “Good morning to you, Mugetsu, No Moon.”

The pipe-fox cooed and slid out of Kimihiro's clothes.

Kimihiro sighed in relief and turned to face the mistress of the house. “And good morning to you too, Yuuko-san. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes.” Spotting a fast moving slender white blur followed by a fast bouncing black blur, Kimihiro stepped sharply to the right, barely dodging Mokona and Mugetsu's sudden game of tackle-tag. Kimihiro waved the spatula at the two blurs. “Oi! Not in the kitchen!”

Yuuko clapped her hands and laughed. “It's so wonderful seeing you every morning!”

Kimihiro turned toward the mistress of the house. “Don't you mean it's so good seeing someone cooking your breakfast every morning, Yuuko-san?”

Yuuko smiled slyly. “But of course!” She left the kitchen doorway trailing laughter.

Kimihiro raised his hands heavenward. “What did I ever do in my past life to deserve being a live-in housekeeper?” He turned back to the stove convinced that whatever it was that he'd done in his former life, had to have been really bad.

* * *

Sitting around the low table before the open doors leading to the back garden, Kimihiro served food and parried cheerful jibes while fighting to keep what was on his own plate from disappearing down a fuzzy black gullet. “Mokona! That's my breakfast! You have your own!”

The black bunny-creature delivered an enormous pout. “But I ate it all, already!” He snatched Kimihiro's toast with his tiny paw-hands.

“Oi!” Kimihiro grabbed for his toast. A small wrestling tug of war ensued. “Finishing yours doesn't mean that mine is up for grabs!”

Yuuko's surprisingly girlish giggles filled the morning air. “Ah, Mokona loves your cooking so much, he can't get enough!”

“Yes, I can see that!” Kimihiro finally wrestled his toast from the squinty-eyed, animated pork bun and popped it into his mouth. Gulping down the dregs of his tea with one hand, he collected the breakfast dishes with the other. There was just enough time to get them washed before he had to leave for school. “Do you know what you want for dinner?”

“Yes indeed!” Yuuko clasped her hands together and called out something that Kimihiro was pretty sure he'd seen a recipe for in one of Yuuko's extensive supply of cookbooks. “The money for the shopping will be on the kitchen counter when you return from school.”

Kimihiro nodded. He'd expected to have to do some shopping.

Yuuko threw up her hands. “And I have just the right wine to go with it!”

Kimihiro groaned loudly. “You have just the right wine for everything!” It looked like was going to have to stop by the pharmacy for more of her hang-over medicine too.

“Not everything…” Her full bottom lip stuck out. “Sometimes I have to make do with sake!” She grinned and winked at Mokona.

Mokona giggled and bounced on his seating cushion. “Sake! Sake!”

Kimihiro rolled his eyes. “Wine, wine, wine and sake… Can't you have tea with your dinner once in a while?”

“I do!” She smiled broadly. “Once in a while.” She waved a hand. “Oh, and make sure you walk back with Doumeki!”

Kimihiro felt every hair on his body lift. Him, again. His spine stiffened so hard, he almost dropped the dishes, almost. “I can walk back by myself you know! I'm not completely helpless!”

Yuuko's smile evaporated, and her cinnamon eyes leveled. “Watanuki…”

Kimihiro shook his head firmly, dodging her gaze. “Doumeki has archery practice for a competition.” He turned away, the dishes so firmly in hand his knuckles were white. “If I wait, I can't go shopping. The grocery stores will be closed by the time he finishes with practice.”

Yuuko arose elegantly from the table. “Watanuki…”

“I don't need him!” He turned away and stomped down the hallway clutching the dishes. “I'm not a girl, damn it! I don't need an escort after school every single day…!” He slammed the kitchen door open and stomped in. “Nothing dangerously weird has come after me in nearly a month…!” He practically slammed the dishes into the sink, then turned the water on full force. “That hulking brute walks me home so damned much already, you'd think he was my boyfriend!” He scrubbed with the bristle-brush using every ounce of strength he possessed. “Himawari-chan already thinks we're best friends!” They were most certainly not friends of any kind; they were rivals -- RIVALS! Couldn't anyone get that through their thick skulls?

Except that he owed Doumeki for his life yet again. He owed him for the very blood that currently flowed in his veins.

The anger turned cold and flat in Kimihiro's chest. Why…? Why does he keep doing that? The first time Doumeki had saved him, he'd sprained his arm keeping Kimihiro from a face-dive from off the top of a school. That was the reason Kimihiro had started to make him lunches. Other incidents had followed, lots of others, so the lunches had continued.

Kimihiro groaned and wiped his brow with the back of one hand. It's obvious that he doesn't like me any more than I like him so, why does he keep…doing such dangerous things to help me? It just didn't make any sense!

Yuuko swept into the kitchen, her long inky hair and shimmering robes wafting after her. “I'd rather you wait for Doumeki to walk with you tonight. In fact I insist.”

Kimihiro stiffened, his shoulders hunching with the rage that swept up and burned in the back of his skull. I'm not that helpless, damn it! I'm not! He ground his teeth and gripped the bristle-brush like a weapon. “I…!”

Except that Yuuko had a nasty habit of knowing when bad things were going to happen.

With monumental effort, he sucked in a deep breath and lowered his voice. “Is there a reason why he should walk me home tonight?”

“Yes.” The word was delivered hard and flat.

There was…? Kimihiro's heart froze, then slammed hard in his chest. Bad things… Bad things… Bad things... Cold sweat prickled down his spine. He stomped down his fear with cold hard anger. I refuse! I refuse to be afraid! He whirled around brandishing his dripping scrub brush as though it were a demon-slaying sword. “What possible reason…?”

The doorway was empty. Yuuko was gone.

* * *

Lunch time found Kimihiro walking around to the back of the school carrying the three lacquered wood bento boxes wrapped in a large cloth in one hand, and the thermos of chilled jasmine tea in the other.

Himawari was already at their chosen spot under the tree. She knelt on the small picnic blanket, neat and prim in her stark black skirt and white summer top, while talking cheerfully to her tiny bright yellow bird, Tanpopo, Dandilion. The ultra-feminine black coils of her sumptuous mane spilled down her back and tumbled down around her lap. Two small coiling tails bound with yellow bows framed either side of her impishly sweet face.

Kimihiro couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. So cuuute! Himawari was everything a pretty girl should be, and she was just as sweet as she appeared. He waved. “Himawari-chan, I have your lunch!”

If only she didn't have that…condition.

Himawari looked over at Kimihiro and her smile was as bright as the sun. “Ah, Watanuki-kun!”

The tall, broad-shouldered, and pointedly masculine form of Doumeki came from around the opposite corner of the building. His short-cropped black hair gleamed blue in the sunlight. He was dressed in the white keiko-gi top and ground-sweeping black hakima trousers of his Kyudo, archery club uniform. Apparently, he'd spent the last period at the archery range. He was talking on his cell phone, or rather, grunting into it. His gaze was somewhere off in the distance and lips were turned slightly downward.

Kimihiro sighed. That was Doumeki for you. He appeared to only ever show one of two expressions, if he had an expression, an almost-scowl, or an almost-smirk. Of the two, the smirk was worse; it was downright disturbing.

Doumeki's gaze found Kimihiro's and his golden eyes narrowed.

Kimihiro felt the small hairs on his arms lift. He's staring at me in that creepy way again. It was enough to very nearly sour Kimihiro's appetite.

Yuuko had once asked him, “What don't you like about Doumeki?”

Kimihiro couldn't very well tell her… “Because he stares at me like, he wants to hit me or do something…else, something embarrassing and vulgar. When he smirks, it's worse. It's like, he's laughing at me, and about to do something vulgar. On top of that, when he actually talks what he says never goes with the look on his face. And he does it all the damned time!”

It sounded stupid even in his thoughts.

He turned away to unwrap the bento boxes, slapped on a sunny smile strictly for Himawari, and offered her a box. “Here you go Himawari-chan!”

Smiling, Himawari took the box from Kimihiro without making any physical contact. “Thank you, Watanuki-kun!”

“You are very welcome, Himawari-chan.” Watanuki sighed in contentment and pulled out the small plastic cups for the tea. Lunch with sweet, adorable, completely predictable Himawari was the highlight of his entire day.

Doumeki strode up to stand before Kimihiro and his voice deepened to a base growl. “I see. Of course. Thank you, Yuuko-san.”

Kimihiro looked up at his nemesis and his mouth fell open in shock. Doumeki was talking to Yuuko? The iced tea he was pouring spilled slightly over his hand. Startled, he grabbed for a paper napkin to wipe at the small mess. He knew, he just knew, Yuuko had told Doumeki to walk him back. That conniving, controlling, over-protective…

Doumeki snapped the small phone closed, and tucked it into the front fold of his gi. He held out his hand, clearly asking for the bento at Kimihiro's side.

Selfish bastard… Furious, Kimihiro shoved the bento box at him.

Doumeki took the box from Kimihiro's hands and his gaze narrowed on Kimihiro's face. “Do I need to tell you what she said?”

“No! No, you don't, and I don't want to hear it!” Kimihiro turned away and flopped cross-legged onto the spread blanket at Himawari's side. He would not, would not, look at him. “I don't need a freaking baby-sitter!” He pried open his bento box, determined to eat and enjoy some cheerful conversation with Himawari.

Doumeki moved to Kimihiro's immediate right and stepped into the space between Kimihiro and Himawari. He settled cross-legged on the blanket with a grunt, seating himself between them.

Watanuki rolled his eyes. One might suppose that Doumeki was merely keeping the two from coming into accidental physical contact, which would trigger Himawari's rather volatile and highly dangerous condition. However, Watanuki knew for a fact that Doumeki had done it simply to annoy him.

Doumeki turned and his golden gaze locked on Kimihiro's. He was so close Kimihiro could actually feel his body heat. The scent of soap and temple incense drifted from him. “Yuuko thinks you do.”

Kimihiro felt his hackles lift. He scooted back, away from Doumeki's unnervingly warm presence. “That's her! Not me!”

His gaze narrowed to hard gold slits. “Are you a fortune-teller?”

Fortune-teller? Kimihiro stared at him. What the hell…? “No! Of course not!”

“I'll come get you after class.” He turned away to pry open his flat black lunch box. “I'll get the instructor to let you wait while I practice.”

Kimihiro stared at him open mouthed. “What? No! I said I don't want to wait…!”

Doumeki picked up the chopsticks and started shoveling food into his mouth with one hand. He plugged the ear on Kimihiro's side with the pinky finger of the other. Clearly, Doumeki was not listening.

Kimihiro ranted and raved until he was red in the face.

Doumeki continued to eat with one ear plugged.

Kimihiro added kicks and gestures to his gripes and complaints, and even tried writhing on the ground.

Doumeki turned to face Kimihiro with absolutely no expression on his face what so ever. “You gonna eat that?” He pointed at Kimihiro's full bento box with his chopsticks.

Kimihiro grabbed for his food. “Yes I am!” He snatched up his chopsticks and stabbed it into his box blindly. Glaring at the larger boy, he shoved the piece of food into his mouth and chewed with extra emphasis.

Himawari burst into giggles.

Still completely expressionless, Doumeki held out his hand. “Tea.”

Kimihiro reached for the thermos and a tea cup then froze. Son of a bitch! Who does he think I am, his damned wife? He turned to glare at the overgrown pain in his ass.

Doumeki continued to hold out his hand, his gaze unwavering and clearly expectant.

Kimihiro handed him the cup of tea.

Doumeki took the cup of tea, and the slightest of satisfied smiles curved the very edge of his mouth.

A hard shiver skittered up Kimihiro's spine. He jerked his gaze away. He hated it when Doumeki looked at him like that; like he'd done something both pleasing, and perverted at the same time.

Doumeki's gaze drifted down to his teacup, and in a completely emotionless voice, he announced what he'd like for tomorrow's lunch.

Kimihiro very nearly threw his bento box at him. “I do not, not, NOT take orders from you!”

Doumeki's reply was yet another of those smug half-smirks.

Himawari's giggling and Tanpopo's amused chirping did not make Kimihiro feel any better.