House Room
A/N: Well, here I am again. Except this time I am taking on the relationship between Mayu-chan and Haa-san (this time a cannon relationship!) This is most likely the beginning chapter of a longer story. However, while I normally do not post until I am thoroughly finished with a story (I didn't call myself Acta E Fabula for nothing) I thought I'd post it anyway as I thought that it is a nice portrait of Hatori's psyche at the time of the curse lifting. It's easy to imagine that he wouldn't be all that ecstatic about running off to be with Mayu right away. I promise that this will get more upbeat as the story goes on. It just didn't seem right to have Tori run straight into the arms of Mayu-chan given his melancholic nature. The pov of the chapter will always be mentioned in the chapter title. For instance, this chapter is written from the point of view of Haa-san. Update- I hope I haven't messed anyone up by re-editing the story- I think it will work without the little bit I just added however it is a nice little detail that will add to the plot.
Disclaimer: Fruits Basket is the brilliant creation of Takaya-sensei. None of the characters mentioned in this story belong to me.
Chapter 1A: Memento Mori: Mourning Becomes Hatori
Sitting on the floor before my dresser, staring at the contents of a small wooden box that has spent so many years hidden away from sight in the corner of my bottom drawer I couldn't help but wonder how one's life with someone could possibly be held in such a tiny container.
Sifting through the photos, letters, and little knickknacks gathered during my life with Kana I felt as if I were holding a reliquary designed to inter the remains of a sacred thing, never to be seen again. While no one had passed, those few objects were as much memento mori as a widow's cameo or a lock of a loved one's hair. Yet until that winter I had ceased to mourn. Locking away those memories behind ironclad doors in order to keep the sadness from seeping into my blood and poisoning me I had long since ceased to feel much of anything really. And for the most part I had come to prefer the icy chill of apathy rather than the searing pain of remorse, guilt and loss that had set my mind on fire that horrible day. Plus, as is the manner of the mind, much of that day had been hidden behind walls thrown up to protect me from the true gravity of the situation. However, when that old dragon's soul (which had wrapped itself around my own at the time of my birth) had uncoiled its serpentine body to fly away into the distance, a void had formed in its place. And with his passing, hope had entered that void; had blown open the doors of my mind; and had caused me to feel once again.
However, as much as I had enjoyed thinking about the prospects of that newly dawning spring, I was still left with the ashes of les printemps perdue; the solid manifestations of my life with her that had become as tattered and translucent as pressed flowers found secreted between the pages of a book. Hold them close, and you can almost recapture their scent. As I held her first love letter to me my inner voice intoned, What is a fitting funeral for a love that was? What does one do with the trappings of the past? Bury them like the bones of the dead? Burn them and scatter them to the winds? Keep them hidden away? Of all of the options that rattled about my skull I knew that the last was the only impossible one. For at the moment my memory house was still inhabited with the ghosts of my life with Kana, leaving no room for a new life to take residence. And those few things acted as anchors, weighing me down, binding them to me, preventing them from moving on.
Not making headway on my dilemma, I closed the lid on the box, along with the memories that were awakened by my reverie. Not knowing what the next dawning day would bring I decided to leave the box for a moment feeling that perhaps an answer would come anon.
Chapter 1B: That Meddling Dog: Shigure interferes
The great experiment had worked. Over the last few months reports from the members of the zodiac were slowly filtering in, letting me know that we were free, or soon would be. While the dog's teeth, deeply sunken into my soul, had yet to release I had every hope that soon it would relinquish its iron grip. However, as far as Hatori went, I was beginning to believe that he relished in his mourning, taking up his sadness and wearing it like some desert ascetic's hair shirt. He certainly flogged himself daily for being Akito's hired gun. I once asked him, "Haa-san, if you could turn your power on yourself would you?"
He looked at me with those sad eyes and said,
"No, because I do not deserve to forget."
So, as he was clearly not going to make a move I decided to intervene on his behalf. Humming "Match maker" from Fiddler on the Roof I picked up the phone and began to dial.
So there you go, chapter 1. Yes, for those who are familiar with my Hinge Factor series I have returned to the 1st person retrospective point-counterpoint model. However, this is more of a three-part harmony. However, that will be more of a baseline that moves in and out as the story calls for it- you'll see. Bear with me. And please r and r as always. Acta