Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ A Bump in the Road ❯ Slings and Arrows ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

By: Niamh

Bump in the Road: Chapter Two

A/N: We still don't own the Furubauniverse; it's still all the property of Takaya Natsuki, and we're still not making any profit. Further bulletins as events warrant.

Great thanks to Aoi for the lovely beta job, of course. And thanks to William Shakespeare for his Public Domain-ness. ;)

Chapter Two: Slings and Arrows

Blest are those whose blood and judgment are so well commeddled that they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger to sound what stop she please. Give me that man that is not passion's slave, and I will wear him in my heart's core, ay, in my heart of hearts as I do thee.

~Hamlet, III ii

Kyou rapped on Hatori's door perfunctorily, not even waiting for the doctor's reply of "It's open" before walking into the office and sitting down carefully on the first available chair. It wasn't much, but the Cat managed to take what little comfort he could in the fact that Akito had not asked about the stiffness in his movements. The errand was over and, for the moment, Kyou's duty was fulfilled.

Hatori looked up from his paperwork, bemused by the quick return. "Already?"

"He's letting me go to college," Kyou said flatly, his eyes trained on the middle distance.

Hatori's eyebrows rose. "Is that so?"

The Cat let out a long breath, moving to run his fingers through his hair, then stiffening as his ribs caught again. "I'm getting really fucking tired of this."

It had occurred to Kyou that Akito had probably been expecting some sort of reaction to the news that he wasn't going to be locked away upon graduation. Relief, maybe. But all this supposed "opportunity" did for the Cat was delay the inevitable. It was true: he was tired. He was tired of being a source of malicious amusement for the clan head. He was tired of being the Cat. He was tired of trying, when all it ever got him was nowhere. Akito wasn't giving him any real chance to be free; this was just a set-up for failure.

The only answer the Dragon gave him was a long sigh. "I'll only be a moment." Hatori started putting away his paperwork, locking away records.

Kyou's next words stopped him cold.

"I'm not going to try anymore."

Blinking, the doctor turned slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

"He said if I could beat Yuki by the time I graduated high school, he wouldn't lock me up. He said I could join the Juunishi. Now he says, if I can beat him by the time I graduate from college..." Kyou rose from his chair and paced across the office, grimacing at every step. The Dragon merely stared at him. "I figured, what the hell? If he kept his promise, that was okay, and if he didn't, I'd still have beaten Yuki. But I'm fucking tired."

"Kyou." The Cat stopped in his tracks and glanced askance at Hatori, resting one hand against the doorframe. His other arm was wrapped around his body, clutching the package of college material Akito had cast at his feet. Fatigue and tension were radiating in waves off of the Cat and Hatori felt a surge of sympathy for the boy.

It was difficult enough, simply living with the Curse. It was enough of a trial, having a vengeful spirit constantly lying in wait, ready for that key moment of weakness. It was hard enough, simply being Juunishi. Hatori couldn't begin to imagine what it was like being the Cat.

It seemed an eternity passed before the Dragon spoke again. "Let's go to the car. I'll drive you back to the house."

Kyou didn't move for a moment. He finally nodded and followed Hatori out to the car. The silence was heavy between them, as Kyou closed his eyes, looking tired and frayed, and Hatori started the car and pulled out of the driveway.

They were nearly to Shigure's house before the Cat spoke again. "Maybe I'll try," Kyou said softly after a while. "I don't know. It's just... the fighting, it bothers her." The Dragon nodded in silent comprehension. Kyou laughed abruptly, wincing despite himself. "I can't for the next month, anyway."

"I certainly wouldn't advise it."

Kyou let out a small snort of derision. "If Shishou heard I was sparring with a cracked rib, he'd come kick my ass himself."

A small smile flickered on Hatori's face as he pulled into the usual parking space at the end of the long path that led to the Dog's home. "As your physician, I'd have to recommend against that."

Kyou opened the door carefully and climbed out. "Not planning on it. That kuso nezumi'll have to beat on someone else if he's got anger to burn."

The Dragon followed him to the front door, remembering to give Kyou his pain killers as well. "You'd better take some of these now." As Kyou opened the front door, Hatori continued, "So if Yuki isn't going to hit you, and he's certainly not going to hit Honda-kun... by my count, that leaves Shigure."

Kyou huffed a small laugh, then winced again. "I'd love to see that."

The Dragon shut the front door quietly. "I can't think of anyone who wouldn't."

As if on cue, Shigure popped out into the hall, his usual jovial smile fixed in place. "Welcome home!" he sang. "How are you, Kyou-kun?"

"Cracked," Kyou said shortly.

"Yes, and your ribs?"

The Cat was not amused. "Shut up, baka inu." Kyou kicked his shoes off and headed towards the kitchen to swallow his pills, leaving the two elder Juunishi behind. Shigure turned back to Hatori and quirked an inquisitive eyebrow.

Hatori slipped his cigarette case out of his pocket, weighing it in his hand. "Kyou's going to college," he murmured, just loud enough for the Dog's ears.

Genuine surprise flashed across Shigure's face. "Well, that's.... good news."

The Dragon didn't answer for a few moments, running his thumb across the flat silver surface. Shigure waited quietly. Whenever Hatori had something to say, it was worth listening to, no matter how much silence separated the words.

After a moment, the doctor opened the silver case and withdrew a cigarette, looking down at it thoughtfully.

"We need to talk," he said finally.

Shigure nodded and glanced around. "My study?"

When Hatori nodded, the Dog waved his friend onward, following him down the hall and sliding the shoji shut behind them. Hatori settled down on the little-used cushions scattered in front of the desk while Shigure sank down into his accustomed spot. Digging in his desk produced a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches. The scent of sulfur and lit tobacco wove through the room as Hatori lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. It was like a ritual between them, a way to prepare themselves and each other for things they either didn't want to say, or didn't want to hear.

Hatori blew out a stream of smoke and looked at the glowing tip contemplatively. "Akito promised Kyou he could join the Juunishi and avoid the fate of the Cat if he defeated Yuki before he graduated high school."

Shigure paused in the midst of tapping out his own cigarette. "Well. That explains the last few years." He lit it and leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Poor Kyou-kun."

"Akito has extended the deadline." Hatori took another drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke drift out from his nostrils. "Which is fortuitous on the one hand, since Kyou is injured, but on the other hand...." He trailed off. Shigure waited quietly. "It seems needlessly cruel to send Kyou to college under these circumstances," Hatori said quietly. "University is where you become who you'll be for the rest of your life."

The two men sat in silence for a while. Shigure tapped ash from his cigarette. "Do you think it's breaking them, then?"

Hatori frowned slightly. "He doesn't want to try any more -- doesn't want to dance to Akito's music." Again, he fell into contemplative silence; again, the Dog did not interrupt it. "Though I must say," Hatori said, finally, "I found Kyou's reason for not wanting to fight Yuki anymore... surprising."

Shigure blew out a stream of smoke over both their heads. "And what was it?"

"Because it upsets Honda-kun." For several seconds, Hatori studied Shigure with a shrewd eye; the novelist's expression hadn't changed. "You're not surprised." Shigure shook his head and the Dragon sighed hard through his nose. "I confess I wouldn't have thought that one person could have such an impact on those two."

Shigure shrugged. "I admit it turned out more neatly than I could've anticipated."

"I see." The Dragon sat back, eyeing the Dog keenly. "And how does this... extension fit into your plan?"

A dark smile crossed the other man's face. "It's a new development, certainly. But in the long run, it buys us more time." He tapped his cigarette, thinking. "But... if Kyou-kun gives up...." He trailed off, looking thoughtfully out the window. When he looked back, it was in time to see incredulity flicker across the other man's face. That dark smile widened. "Come now, Ha-san. There are different forms of giving up, after all. Kyou-kun's willingness to fight Yuki-kun meant he wanted to change his fate. Now he's resigned himself to accept whatever crumbs are tossed his way."

"He sees nothing ahead but the cage," Hatori murmured. He closed his eyes and bowed his head for a long moment. "Perhaps that should change." The Dragon crushed out his cigarette and contemplated another one. After only a moment's consideration, he took another from the pack lying abandoned on Shigure's desk and lit it. The pair of them smoked in silence for a bit before the doctor spoke again. "Did you anticipate it taking quite this long?"

"No," Shigure replied quietly. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temple wearily with his free hand. "But it doesn't matter. One year, two years, the rest of my life...." A small smile twisted Shigure's mouth. "Anything for my dream, Ha-san."

Hatori frowned at the smoke spiraling up from his cigarette. "Are you sure of this?"

Eyes still closed, the Dog repositioned his cigarette between his lips. "Sure of--"

"Are you certain this is going to work?"

"No," Shigure replied simply. His eyes drifted open; like his voice, they were nearly expressionless. "But I think it's better than doing nothing."

"Do you think, then, that Akito sent Yuki to school here simply so Kyou could continue trying?" It was more intellectual curiosity than anything; Hatori wanted to see what his cousin's nimble mind made of that move.

Shigure rose from his desk and walked over to the shoji overlooking to the garden, sliding it open to gaze out into the twilight. "...That's not why Yuki-kun's going to school here."

"You don't think so?" The doctor watched his cigarette's smoke flicker and disappear in the breeze.

The Dog shook his head. "Yuki-kun has own cage -- it's just a different shape from Kyou-kun's. Akito wants them both to realize they're still trapped."

"I'd figured that much," Hatori said dryly. "But--"

"It's more of our game," Shigure interrupted softly, taking a long drag on his cigarette and exhaling smoke. The breeze caught it as well, making the fine grey mist dance a moment before dispersing into nothing.

The Dragon stilled, cold apprehension snaking its way down his spine. Shigure's darker side, always a concern, had been winding deeper and deeper into what was left of his soul. "What happens when Akito's moves counter yours? What happens if we lose?"

That chilling smile spread slowly across Shigure's features, like oil on water. "Then we'll have to start over. Or perhaps overturn the board. I don't know. It hasn't happened yet." Hatori shook his head. Shigure chuckled, but there was no mirth in his laughter. "I know, I know. It's not a game. People's lives and so on and so forth. I shouldn't think of it that way."

"And yet, you do." A stronger draft ruffled the Dragon's long bangs, brushing his eye uncomfortably.

"If I didn't," Shigure pointed out in a reasonable tone, "I couldn't do this."

Hatori blew out more smoke, rubbing his forehead with his thumb in unconscious, long-felt exasperation. "Shigure. Games have rules. Established rules. When you deal with people, they're not as predictable as you might like to think. They're not game pieces."

Shigure shrugged, smirking faintly. "You may think so. I've always found people to be reasonably predictable." He came back to the table, resumed his place across from the Dragon, crushed out his cigarette, and leaned back in his seat. "I haven't been wrong yet."

"Did your crystal ball predict Kyou's sudden willingness to give up?" Hatori's voice held an edge that the Dog blithely ignored.

"It had occurred to me," Shigure said. He looked at his cousin for a brief moment, and then away again; something about the look the Dragon was giving him disturbed Shigure's practiced calm. "How long can someone love someone else in silence before--" He stopped suddenly, unaccustomed guilt crossing his features.

He'd gone too far. Words he'd used intending only to refer to the Cat held a great deal of meaning for the Dragon as well. Hatori had been through too much already, and was slowly moving past those incidents, with Mayuko's assistance.

And speakingof loving in silence...

But Shigure didn't voice those thoughts. He'd already misspoken once, and by the way his cousin was sitting rock-still on his cushion, not even the faint column of smoke from the cigarette wavering, the Dog knew better than to say any more.

Shigure turned around and looked at his cousin. "I'm sorry, Ha-san. I wasn't thinking."

Hatori met his eyes levelly. "Still caught up in the game, I imagine." When the Dog winced exaggeratedly in response, he sighed. "I apologize."

Shigure waved a hand. "No, no, you were well within your rights."

Hatori pulled his mind away from the painful memories brought to the fore. "My point is, you can try to predict people, but I think there are some things beyond even you."

"I'll worry about that when it happens." Shigure leaned back in his seat, folding his hands on the desktop.

"Don't you ever imagine how they must feel?" Hatori asked, quietly. "Don't you..." But the words never left the Dragon's lips. Instead, he shook his head slowly. "No, I don't imagine you do. It would only disrupt your clinical detachment."

The Dog shot him a wry smile. "Thus speaks the expert on clinical detachment."

"Even I indulge in the occasional bout of empathy," the doctor riposted.

Shigure raised an eyebrow, but didn't reply for a moment or so. "If I didn't have any empathy, I wouldn't worry about them at all."

Several more beats of silence passed as the Dragon regarded his cousin -- his friend. "There was a time when I would have agreed with you."

The Dog's mask slipped for a fraction of a second. Then the careless smile and voice were back, though the latter was darkly edged. "...What does that mean?"

"I believe that you're concerned for them," Hatori replied placidly. "The fact that you worry about them at all suggests that you care about them."

"I do," Shigure objected, but the Dragon cut him off with a shake of his head.

"I'm not arguing that." He hesitated. "I simply don't think you empathize with them. It's too... emotional. Too messy. Too involved."

Shigure smiled again, equally dark but slightly more manic. "If you gaze long enough into the abyss...."

Hatori regarded Shigure for a long moment, his eyes flickering with muted sadness. "Then it will swallow you whole."

Shigure laughed a little, lifting his shoulders in a graceful, careless shrug. "Then that is the price I will pay."

Hatori looked troubled as he rose to his feet. Admonishments, concerns, pleas: all rushed to his lips. But Shigure had heard them all before, and nothing had been able to turn him away from his path. Finally, he simply said, "Be careful. Nothing's worth losing your soul over."

Shigure exhaled, and it sounded almost like a chuckle, but not quite. "'I don't set my life at a pin's fee.'"

Hatori rolled his eyes. "Very well." If Shigure was simply going to make literary references, there was nothing else to be said. He tucked his hands in his coat pockets. "I should be getting back."

Shigure stood up as well. "Drive carefully, Ha-san."

"I always do," Hatori replied. The two men smiled at each other before Hatori went out the office door to the foyer to put his shoes on. Shigure padded after him, frowning in concern when Hatori yawned.

"Are you sure you're all right to drive? Even only back to the main house?"

"I'm certain." Hatori rubbed his eyes wearily. "Simply too many early mornings." Caffeine and nicotine could not completely replace sleep, regardless of Hatori's efforts.

Shigure put a hand on his cousin's arm. "I could sleep in my study if you wanted to sleep here...."

Hatori shook his head. "I need to be there. Momiji's expecting me." He sent his friend a small, wry smile. "Besides, I don't want to sleep on that laundry pile you call a bed."

Shigure grinned. "It's not that bad. Tohru-kun cleaned it off two weeks ago." At Hatori's snort of laughter, he patted him gently. "Just remember, Ha-san, there's only one of you."

"Perhaps not for that much longer," Hatori replied. "Momiji's talking about medical school."

Shigure's eyebrows rose. "Is that so? Good for him."

The doctor turned back, folding his arms. "Would you say so? I would think you'd consider his empathy as a disadvantage. For Momiji, there's no such thing as detachment."

His cousin raised his hands in a small shrug. "That's true, but even if I did say I thought his empathy made medicine a bad choice for him, it wouldn't matter."

"Because he's determined." Shigure nodded and Hatori sighed again. "Let me know if Kyou's condition worsens suddenly." He slid the door open and walked out, making his way back to the waiting car. Shigure stood in the doorway for a while, watching his old friend vanish into the darkness.

Slowly, the Dog closed the door, resting his forehead against the wood for a moment. Ha-san was worried; he could see that much. But didn't he understand? Didn't he see? All of Shigure's efforts, all of his planning, all of his desires had been focused for so long on one goal. And Shigure could see the end in sight. He could feel it.

'Be careful. Nothing's worth losing your soul over.'

Shigure frowned and shook his head, still resting against the wood of the door. He stood to lose nothing in this venture; Hatori simply worried too much. He wasn't sacrificing anything of his self. He wasn't giving up his soul.

He was just... focused. And what was wrong with that? What was wrong with wanting to live a normal life? What was wrong with being dissatisfied with the current state of affairs? As Juunishi, they learned to live day to day, simply settling for what they could have. They worked around the chains that bound them; Shigure wanted to cast them off entirely.

How did that endanger his soul?

Straightening, Shigure shook his head briefly. Ha-san's been complacent for too long. He's accepted his fate. He's afraid to try -- and can you blame him? Aside from a few minor miscalculations, you've done fine so far. Don't worry about it.

He stood there a moment in the darkened foyer, waiting for some sort of reassurance, something to remind him that the ends still justified the means. But there was nothing but the sounds of the house settling around him. Another moment passed, and the Dog let out a weary sigh, turning and retiring upstairs to bed.

Tohru walked up to the front door, marginally surprised at the quietness of the house. The lights in the living room and kitchen were off, and as she slid the door open and kicked her shoes off, nobody came out in response to her soft call of, "I'm home."

I guess everyone went to bed early. She crept upstairs and let herself into her room, putting her things away and changing into her yellow pajamas. Oh, I'm so tired. But it was a good day at work. Now I just need to wash my face.... She slid her door open and squeaked in surprise at the shadowy figure leaning against the hallway wall opposite. "K-Kyou-kun?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "It's just me."

Tohru padded out into the hallway, peering at him. He looks so tired. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." The Cat's mouth twitched in an almost-smile. "Mostly."

Alarm bells went off—Kyou-kun, admitting weakness? "What's wrong?"

"Cracked a rib." Tohru's eyes went huge with concern, and he shook his head, putting a hand out. "No, no, it's okay."

Her hand pressed against her mouth; she had to remind herself to remove it so she could question him: "Are you sure? Do you need anything? Does it hurt?"

"Actually...." Kyou looked a little flustered. "Could you hold onto these for me?" He held up an amber pill bottle. "Last time I sucked at remembering to take them."

"Do you want me to remind you?" Tohru asked, taking the bottle. Kyou nodded. She nodded back in determination. "I can do that!" She read the instructions on the bottle carefully, then frowned a little. "...Kyou-kun?"

"Yeah?"

"How... did you crack a rib?" She looked up in time to see his scarlet eyes widen, then dart away. Kyou-kun....

"Slipped on the roof," he said finally.

Tohru's frown deepened. In all the time she'd lived at the Sohma's, she'd never seen Kyou slip or misstep, even on the roof. But Kyou-kun wouldn't lie.... "Oh." She glanced down the hallway. "...Where's Yuki-kun?"

Kyou started to shrug, then grimaced. "Dunno. Went out earlier. Didn't see him come back." He touched her gently on the arm. "I'm sure he's okay."

Much later, when darkness shrouded Sohma Shigure's house, the novelist found himself in bed, unable to sleep. He'd heard Yuki come in sometime around midnight, despite the Rat's efforts to be quiet. For his part, Shigure figured Yuki deserved some time to brood over recent developments, and he would feign ignorance regarding his cousin's late-night return.

But that had been long ago, and the Dog was now quite certain that the sky beyond his blinds grew lighter with the coming dawn. He sighed a little; his mind was too restless for him to sleep, thoughts passing through his head too quickly for him to process. Try as he might to push aside the errant musings, Shigure found himself unable to think past the day's revelations.

What did Akito have to gain by prolonging Kyou's freedom, even temporarily? Was it boredom? Could something so mundane, so quotidian be the reason behind such a move? It was unprecedented for a God to change the Cat's timeline, bored or not.

But then, as far as Shigure knew, there'd never been a God quite like Akito.

Eventually, he heard movement in the house: Kyou. Despite his injury, he was still awake far earlier than the rest of the house. Shigure smiled a little and rolled onto his side. The familiarity of the noises filtering through the walls was oddly reassuring, and for the first time in hours, Shigure felt slumber's insistent tug, coaxing him into submission.

By the time the sun had appeared on the horizon, Shigure was sleeping soundly.