A/N: Hey it's me again. So this is a new one… and a different one. It's based on a dream I had. It seemed to fit Fruits Basket so well so I made it into a story. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Fruits Basket… only the merchandise o
His eyes were cold, motionless and miserable. He was emaciated and pale, his bony figure looking uncomfortable on the wooden floor. He knelt down, his nose touching the floor. He whispered something and straightens back looking at the unknown figure in front of him.
I couldn't see whom he was facing, but judging by the look on his face it was probably Mother. I had made my way through the gardens when I found him in this little hut open and what seemed abandoned. He looked frighten, his eyes large and red, apparently from crying so much. I felt uncomfortable watching him there helpless.
CRACK
I saw a whip strike out, slamming his shoulders. Little welts appeared through the ragged clothes and blood trickled out. He screamed louder and louder and the louder he screamed the harder the whip came down.
CRACK
I knew it was not Mother. Oh no. She wouldn't be so cruel to him like this. No. Never. I large puddle of salty water had collected by him. He went to crawl forward, slipped it in and fell on his face. He came up, mouth bloody and crying still.
CRACK
I winced. How can I stand here and watch this torture go on. Finally the whip stopped and a cruel laughter bubbled up from the shadows.
"You should behave better. You know that."
The laughter arose again, this time fading as if the speaker had left. He indeed had for the little figure rose and wiped his eyes. Then those large, frighten eyes turned on me.
"Brother." The little body croaked out. "Please help me."
I ignored him. How? How can I be related to someone so small and weak? I just turned and walked away. I could hear the crying get louder and louder with every step I took. I shudder and wiped at the oncoming tears.
Over the next several weeks I had witnessed dozens of beatings. Whips were the favorite and when the punishment was done, my brother would call out for help and I'd walk away. A feeling of hate formed between us and we gradually grew apart. I could remember that cold morning when he came up to me and took my hand. His eyes shone with tears, begging for help. I just knocked him aside. I couldn't believe how weak and stupid he was. Our anger burned a hole in our relationship… the word brothers was something we rarely used. We failed to mention each other to company and Mother didn't care. She hated him. Despised him.
I remember that day, the last day I saw him.
I walked to the usual house where he was beaten and when I got there it was over. A wave of relief washed over me that I didn't have to see it. But then why? Why did I have the urge to see my little brother be whipped? I felt low and started to hate myself then on. I could never rebuild the bond that was so passionately destroyed. He sat there, and didn't even bother to ask for my help. He looked up and glared and me.
"What? What did I do Ayame? I'm sorry." His body shook.
"No Yuki." The first time I've said his name, let alone speak to him. "It is I who is sorry." My fists clenched and hot tears spilled down my face. I turned, my hair getting caught in my eyes. I hastily wiped them away and left. Left the evil place. I could live here no longer. I could not to anything at all. I was worthless.
I then, made it my job to try to patch our rocky relationship. For how long, I don't know but for as long as it is takes.
A/N: Whew… finally done. Let me know what you think!