Don't own Furuba. Never will.
Warnings: Anime-based fic, but written with knowledge of chapter 97 of Furuba in mind.
If Kana's husband is ever named, feel free to tell me; I have no idea if he was so I dubbed him Hajime.
Pointing fingers.
"It's all your fault, your fault! You think you can . . . the voice faded, and Kana couldn't see who was speaking. Soon, though, the voice returned, loud and harsh in her ears. "You think we need you? You're useless to us!"
"Kana! Get . . . out of . . ."
Faded images. A mystery man hidden behind a veil of black hair.
"The answer," he said, looking at her, "is water."
She heard her own voice. "Wrong! The answer is . . ."
A seahorse flopped on the floor, but there was no water anywhere, only clothing that had belonged to a man at some point.
"I'm so happy to have met you."
The pointing fingers returned. "It's your fault if . . ."
"Don't worry, Kana. Everything is going to be just fine."
A warm hand pressed against her forehead, she opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could say much there was a flash of white light.
He kissed her then. The man's black hair pressed against her forehead, and his eyes were closed. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him to be greeted by a sudden cloud of smoke.
And Kana awoke.
She rolled over to look at Hajime, her husband, before remembering that he was out of town for a couple weeks, gone on business to America. He had promised her a nice souvenir if she was "a good girl."
Sighing, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.
It wasn't the first of the odd dreams. They came fairly often as of late, and always left her feeling confused.
Seahorses and shattering glass, blood on the floor, the smell of crisp air just before it snows.
And for some reason, whenever she awoke, she found herself thinking of Hatori Sohma.
True, she had fallen in love with the man. He was always so calm and collected, and he was very handsome. But it had only been one-sided affection, and Hatori had barely a shred of emotion in his eyes when she left his office.
Eyes. Something about eyes. Blood on the floor and shattering glass, pointing fingers.
"It's all your fault if he . . ."
She shuddered and pushed the images out of her mind. It was, after all, only a nightmare. Even if it did have something to do with Hatori, she was a married woman now. She couldn't go on thinking about her crush. It would be . . . well, it would be stupid and pointless, above all else. She was married, she was happy. What else did she need?
She rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but the images lingered. The man pushing some of her hair back, leaning in to kiss her. And she kissed him back, but was careful not to put her arms around him.
Why not?
Because if I do, especially here in public, and people see him, then I can't be with him anymore.
Her subconscious rarely made sense, but it must have been trying its best to be more confusing than usual tonight. Kana had no idea what it was that haunted her mind and caused these odd dreams, but she was sure it would pass.
The dreams came in bursts rather than trickles--flash floods as opposed to continuously flowing rivers. She would have many for several nights in a row, and then they would stop as suddenly as they had begun.
Hajime had once suggested seeing a counselor for the dreams, and Kana had followed his advice. She left the psychiatrist with disgust--his interpretation of the dream was incredibly inaccurate. Kana hadn't been feeling guilty for anything, nor had she been dissatisfied with Hajime as a lover. She had finally decided that the dream was just a nonsensical collection of images, created completely by her nonsensical mind--and while nonsensical was probably not the best word for it, Hajime had insisted that she not call herself insane or the like.
She glanced at the clock and groaned. It was the middle of the night, yet getting back to sleep would be a chore in and of itself. She likely didn't have a chance.
She sat up, glancing out the window, to see that the dark night was speckled with falling snow.
"I knew it would snow today. . . . when the snow melts . . ."
"What does it become?" she finished the question. It was a question her mother had asked her when she was young, and when she had said that it turned into water, her mother had picked her up and swung her around in the falling snowflakes.
"Spring, Kana. It becomes spring."
Kana had to wonder temporarily if she had ever posed that question to Hatori Sohma. She asked most people she became fairly close to, but Hatori had always been so distant that she wasn't sure if she would have felt right asking him.
She stood and walked over to the balcony of the apartment that she and Hajime shared. Pushing open the sliding door, she stepped out into the cool winter air.
She sighed and leaned over the balcony railing, letting the snowflakes stick in her hair as she watched the lights of the city flicker. The main Sohma house wasn't far from here; she could see some people bustling about on the grounds, setting up lanterns although it was the middle of the night.
Right, she reminded herself, it's nearly New Year's. The main house always has a big New Year's Party.
Kana had never gone to the main house. Apparently, only certain members of the Sohma family were even allowed inside the gates, much less allowed to live there. Her mother had visited it on one occasion and told Kana that it was very unnerving.
"People in the main house are always watching you, like they're afraid you'll give them some vile disease. I didn't see Akito, who's the head of the family that lives in the main house, but I hear that Akito is very shy and not too kind toward outsiders. That's what your father says, anyway, and he is a Sohma, so he'd probably know."
Kana leaned further over, watching as the people on the Sohma house grounds strung banners over the lawn and began putting up pictures of the various Chinese Zodiac animals. She went over them in chronological order: Rat, Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon--
And she stopped.
Something about the Dragon. Something.
What is wrong with me? This has never happened before, even when the dreams have come. I've never felt so odd. And what is so important about the Dragon?
She watched as one man emerged from one of the buildings, wearing a white doctor's jacket thrown messily over his shoulders. She couldn't see him clearly, but he was headed toward the largest house, and he looked to have black hair.
Hatori.
She didn't know how she recognized him from so far off, but she did. The man was Hatori Sohma, likely on a late-night call to one of the other Sohmas in the house. He was chatting with a servant near the door; the servant opened it, and Hatori vanished inside.
Kana stepped back inside and shut the balcony door behind her, brushing some of the snowflakes from her hair and shoulders.
Why was she always like this upon seeing Hatori? She was married, but she still fantasized over him, though he hadn't seemed to care for her in the least. Sure, they saw each other from time to time. But their conversation, even then, was hardly even friendly--he would ask her how her schooling was going, she would reply that it was going well. And that was that.
She hadn't seen him for a long while now. Since before she had married Hajime. She wasn't stupid enough to assume that he had been avoiding her--why would he do that, when he had neither reason to speak to her in the first place? He was probably just busy; he was a doctor, after all.
But it was always like this. Whether seeing him from a distance or speaking with him face-to-face, it didn't matter. She was always left in such a state of stupidity and restlessness that she had no idea what was wrong with her.
It was no use trying to think about it now, though.
She climbed into bed and pulled the covers up tight against her chin. She took one last glance at the alarm clock before pressing her face into the pillow.
Sleep did not come easily, by any means, but it did come, and that was enough.
"This will be your desk." Her mystery man was back, pointing at a desk in the corner. "And this is today's report." He held out a piece of paper, which she took. On it was a picture of the black-haired mystery man, bandages wrapped around his eyes.
She looked up at him to see that he was no longer there; instead, there was someone else. The new person had black hair as well, but it fell differently from that of the mystery man, instead falling around cheeks to frame a shadowed face. "You did this! You did it!"
"I did what?" she asked.
And then there was a seahorse lying on the floor, surrounded by drops of blood and pieces of a broken vase.
She picked up a towel and held the seahorse in it. And she said, "It would have been better if we never met."
"You don't have to worry yourself over me," the seahorse replied--her dream-self acknowledged a talking seahorse as being perfectly normal.
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," she said.
And there was a puff of orange smoke, and the seahorse said, "Would you please turn around?"
She awoke again and scowled. The dreams never made sense.
She sat up to see that the sun was rising outside, and glanced at the clock.
She didn't have any class or work today, so a nice trip to the park wouldn't go amiss. She liked visiting the park in the winter--everything was all white, as if someone had coated the whole city in white frosting.
Most people would think that visiting a park in the winter was pointless; Kana was not "most people."
So it was that she found herself walking to the park, wearing Hajime's thick overcoat that he had left behind (he had gone to Florida, which was apparently warm at this time of year). She had a pink scarf wrapped around her neck, and wore long pants under her jacket.
She hadn't been planning to meet anyone, so running into someone she didn't expect was even more of a surprise.
"Kana."
The voice was so familiar that it nearly caused her to stumble.
"It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
"Er, yes. Yes, it has, Hatori."
Of all the people to run into, she thought.
He hadn't changed much, except that he combed his hair over his left eye now. She wondered why.
Blood splattering, Hatori doubling over and clutching at his eye, and pieces of a vase scattered on the floor.
She ran one hand over her forehead. What was that?
"I hear that you're married now," Hatori said, looking down at her.
What she remembered most about Hatori, even after all this time of not seeing him, was that he never smiled. He looked calm and collected, not necessarily upset or indifferent, but he didn't smile. It was an unspoken law. He just locked his gorgeous green eyes on you and listened.
Kana supposed that was one of the reasons she had loved him long ago.
"Yes, I am, Hatori! Thanks for asking."
"Is he . . . Does he make you happy, Kana?"
What an odd question, Kana thought. "Yes, he does, thank you for asking. Hajime--my husband--and I are very happy."
"That's good to hear." With that, Hatori bowed slightly to her. "I hate to be rude, Kana, but I have to be on my way. The Sohma family requires much of my time."
"O-of course. It was nice talking to you, Hatori."
Hatori started to walk away, pulling his coat around him to block out the cold. His black hair whipped in the frigid winter wind.
Always a secret, Kana thought, shaking her head. He always asks about me, but I never find out anything about him.
"I'll see you again sometime," she called to him.
He glanced back at her over his right shoulder--something about this was important, said a distant part of Kana's mind--and nodded. "I look forward to it."
And then, he was gone, as quickly as he had come, casting his shadow over the snowy sidewalk.
She watched him go.
And still she meditated on the half-dream half-memory of him in pain, clutching at a bleeding eye as stone and glass shattered around him.
What is happening to me . . . ?