Author: Takiko (Yui)
Fandom: Fruits Basket
Type: A first person Yuki POV, drama, angst
Disclaimer:All characters belong to Takaya Natsuki the creator of Fruits Basket. I'm just borrowing them a bit.
Forward:This is a first person POV of Yuki, full of angst and drama , takening place right after Tohru arrives. This focuses on his thoughts of Tohru and himself and others. This takes place before Yuki walked Tohru home from work. Also warning it a bit sad..*sniffs* This might contain spoilers for vol. 4 of the manga. But mostly this focuses on the first vol. of the manga. I had not seen much of FB yet when I wrote this so sorry for any ooc but I felt I had to write this. ^^; This is my first complete fanfic I ever wrote and the first first person I ever wrote so be kind. ^^; Why did I do first person? It just came out that way. ^_^; Thank you for reading before hand. ^-^
Behind the Glass
By: Takiko (Yui)
I spent another afternoon sitting on my back porch doing nothing. Alone with my thoughts. The insects were whining their droning cadence as I looked out onto the large estate with the wild landscaping, more natural then cultured. Several houses doted the expanse but none could be seen from where I sat. The tall trees and distance obstructed them. I was grateful for that. A new person arrived to live with them, Honda-san. Tohru. Make that two people, Kyo was here too. My shoulders dipped a little and breath escaped my lips in a sigh. To live under the same roof as that baka-neko was annoying. Worse intolerable, but I couldn't rescind Akito's order or whim. I just didn't trust Akito's motives in this. Akito.... I didn't want to think about him anymore. My skin crawled just to say his name in normal conversation. So now there are four under the same roof. I wasn't use to so many people living under one roof, but I could adjust. It was something I did well. The wind decided to blow a gust just at that time, blowing through neatly combed hair. My hand shot up instinctually to brush it back into place. The wind had a scent of rain to it. Earthy and sweet. It brought back memories of the typhoon the other day and the landslide that buried Honda-san's makeshift home under mounds of dirt and mud.
I went back for that picture of her mother. I really don't know why, but she was so sad and exhasted. I guess being brave does that. Shigure scolded me for not being fair to Tohru thinking she was amazing and tough to do as she was doing. Yes, what I want is different from her. She wasn't running away to live alone not like what I wanted to do countless times. To break the chains that bound me so tight to this family. Shigure was right, I am naive. Naive and young to think I could leave.
But I amazed myself with what I did. I looked at my hands, pale and slim without blemishes. I noted a small scratch on my left index finger. The cut must have happened that evening.
That night was cool with faint breezes, I remembered. The moon shining a moody glow and throwing shadows of eerie elegance upon the ground. I walked out to the site of the landslide and surveyed the area. It did look hopeless, but I was determined. I called my helpers to me. They scampered and scurried and swarmed until there were so many the ground was carpeted in fur around my feet not earth. I bent down and gently picked one up and held it, petting it absentmindedly, as I watched its twitching nose and shining dark eyes look up at me. They started to dig at the soft earth as I watched. I wondered of the land shifting again but relied on my innate sense that I would know if that would happen and move. Before I knew it I found myself on my knees in the mud digging into the soaked soil too. The wetness seeping through my clothes, the mud squishing under my knees, my hands clawing in the oozing dirt. It wasn't very sensible at all but imagining Honda-san so small and weak as Shigure tucked her in, yet brave, so very brave it drove me on. The earthy smell was intoxicating, like my garden. My clean hands filthy , nails crusted in dirt, immaculate clothes mud spattered, but I went on until I could see the tent's opening. The tent's zipper was stuck a little. I pulled at it, centimeter by centimeter, working it down. Grime and dirt caught in the zipper's teeth making it slow going. My fingers became red and indented from the struggle, but I finally won, yet again, and forced it down enough so I could crawl through.
Surprisingly, the insides of the tent were not totally filled with mud. The air was damp and smelled of canvas, plastic and dirt. Everything looked like someone took a doll house and decided to turn it upside down and shake it. It all was in a jumbled mess. As I searched with my helpers I was able to find Honda-san's belongings and picture of her mother. The frame was face down. I picked it up carefully in case the glass was cracked. As I turned it over my eyes focused in the dim light on the face, the smiling face. So this was what a loving mother looked like. She seemed so young with hair the orange color you find in a fading sunset. She could have been any woman I saw walking down the sidewalk but this was different because she was Tohru's mother. My damp fingers traced onto the cool smooth glass wondering what it felt like, to feel that love. To feel the love of one's parents, of one's mother. My fingers left smudgy streaks, marring the glass. I took my sleeve's end and wiped it clean. I knew how Tohru acted and talked like her mother was still alive that she felt deeply for this woman behind the glass. A woman he knew wouldn't have left on her own accord. The love was almost tangible as I conjured up the conversation about her mother. She wanted to be strong for her, graduate school for her, devote her present life to her. I wondered if it wasn't so good to cling so tightly to the past like that, but it made her happy it seemed. She was still cheerful and determined. Again my naive thinking wanted to think her amazing. I'm not very fair, I know that.
But she blamed herself that her mother left. No, Honda-san she died. She didn't leave because she didn't love you anymore. She didn't push away your love, or crush it or destroy it. She died doing something for you. Is that why you feel so obligated? Is that why I feel obligated to help in some small way? What was this feeling? Love. I wanted this feeling. To feel love, true love. I don't think I know what to do if I did have it though. I wondered what it was? I've been used, obsessed after, tortured and left by all people who said they loved me. Was that normal? What is normal? Yet Honda-san wanted to be my friend even after knowing. Knowing I wasn't normal.
"Yuki," A low voice came from behind me. I jumped a little because I was so deep in thought and then became irritated by the interruption. I turned my head to greet the person standing drapped in a comfortable robe with no shoes. The dark mop of hair brushed in the tall man's eyes as he looked down at me. He held up a bundle of water soaked clothes.
"I found these in the wash basin, unwashed. When did they get there. They were not there when Tohru cleaned. Are you taking advantage of her good nature? Were they in your room? They smell," Shigure wrinkled his nose and held them further away. Then his face lit up. "Wait are these the clothes you wore the other night?"
I glared at him as my answer and looked away. "Yes."
"Well, what should I do with them?" Shigure continued.
"Wash them," I deadpanned, "Or burn them. I don't really care."
"Yuki, you are so smart but so lazy," Shigure sighed, shaking his head.
"Like your room is any cleaner? But I am guessing because I never set foot in it. But I can take a guess." I wasn't in the mood for this conversation.
"You think with Tohru around some of her cleaning skills would rub off on us males. But I see that is not the case."
I turned at that quickly and smiled. A tight cold smile. "You wanted her to clean and cook not me. You want me to be more like Tohru? You are such a pervert."
I carefully chose my words for the right cutting effect. To be honest I would rather hurt with words then my fists. The effects are more long lasting. I saw Shigure go wided eyed and then shrug like he didn't care, but I knew my words affected him.
Standing up, I stiffly walked away further into the wooded estate not looking back. Words, I use them to a minimum just to get the right effect I want. Shigure might think I am a brat but at least I am honest with my words. But I am not like Akito whose honeyed words dripped with venom and twisted logic. I am not him. I don't want to be him. No..no I won't. The very thought that I am similar to him in some way made me want to retch. His voice was like a withered dry leaf. That smile that stretched across Akito's pallid thin face made me shake in fear. I would gulp to steady my trembling that would run through my body at his touch, like when you lean against a piano being played. The reverberations paralyzing me.
I wandered, without thinking, and came upon my secret place. I homed in on it like a beacon. I just wanted to be alone. I found my favorite tree by the garden and plopped myself down by it and drew up my knees to my chest, holding them in my arms and rested my chin on them. I came here often when I was little. Like a small field mouse running from the house to roll in the grass and chew on the colorful wild flowers that carpeted the ground. When I was small this was as far as I dared run away. It wasn't far but it was far enough. My thoughts were jumping all over the place. I couldn't stop thinking about Akito, my life, everything.
I am the rat , mouse, or whatever you call me. I don't really care. Everyone hates me anyhow by what I am so why should I care about others. They stood and stared. Everyone one expects me to be manipulative and cold so that is what I am. OK, I do care a little but I keep that hidden. I keep it hidden under a mask of charm and sophistication. I show people I am nice so I can be happy and liked. But I am not always a nice person. I observe everything with a painted smile and careful gray eyes. I am quiet. I see Shigure, friendly and funny and loyal. But loyal to whom. Kyo is a stupid one. Always trying to fit in, why doesn't he except his fate? And the others too, I observe them all.
*My vision was becoming blurry as I sat there and rested my forehead on my knees. I could be so small.*
I never smile, well truly with my heart. It is just pleasantries to do so. Honda-san was the only one I remember I smiled to and meant it recently. She wanted to be my friend. Akito said that they would all leave and laugh but she wanted to stay so I smiled.
I hardly laugh and if I do I hide it. Even something as small as a laugh could chip away at my carefully constructed facade to show that I am really a normal boy underneath. By some curse I was born the rat. The one that people blamed for their misforunates. I'm suppose to be clever, witty, charming, mysterious. Everyone likes me. Or do they? Do they just like my outward appearance? Will they hate me if they knew? Even my name, Yuki , added to the image. Snow, cold, removed. It is all in the name. I live up to it. It is my birthright.
*Wetness dampen my eyes and first one tear then another rolled down my cheek.*
I wasn't always so bitter. Sometimes I would runaway to this place so I could be myself. Drop the mask. I use to be afraid of the dark or small places too. I was cured of that silly notion. I was suppose to like them. I was a rat. A rat that hated those things. So I became one. Forced to become one. I was so dumb. I learned this lesson and others from Akito. And I learned to hate. Things are as they should be. I am the rat. One of the twelve. The stupid cat is not, as it should be. If I don't believe this I can't be the rat and everything that happened in my life until now would have been for nothing.
*My heart was squeezing in my chest as I cryed.*
It is funny to be good looking, smart, good in sports and popular without really trying. I think it is funny that people look fondly at you because of this. People use others. Everyone does. So I try not to get involved and glide along above it all somehow like some little god and smile down on people. But I can't let anyone get close. They can't see any weakness. They can't see the real me. Noone is suppose to like the rat, not even himself.
But Honda-san is different. She is a funny girl. Funny, brave and strong. Nothing like me at all. Is that why she makes me feel strange when I see her? Why do I show her kindness? Am I just being polite or was it more?
I looked up through my watery eyes and wiped them. The afternoon sun shined a golden light through the trees. The birds hopped from branch to branch and the bees dip into the flowers from the garden in front of me. The sun would be going down soon. And I wanted to see the sunset. I wanted to see if I could see that color of Tohru's mother's hair in the sky and remember it. So I could remember the color of love. Brushing away the last of my tears, I got up and started my hike to a small hill not far away so I could see it from there.