A/N: Hana x Hatori. R for a couple of citrus chapters, some violence, and language. Angst, and light waff.
Disclaimer: Fruits Basket and its characters aren't mine, but belong to the artist and its official publishers. This story is mine, though.
Streets are only the veins of The City, and like the cliche, cities have minds. Or rather, personality. It has memory, attitude, scars. If you could listen, you could hear the murmur of an ant hill.
Not that you'd want to. They all have sort of a one track mind. On the grand scale, The City is a terrifying experience. An anthill doesn't care about the ants, just that The Hill survives.
If an ant could know this as well as Hana did, it'd pee itself. Hana didn't do that, it having lost its novelty when she was four.
Long past the age of four, Hanajima Saki was walking down the street, hair in a high bun. She did not do so often- put her hair up or go on walks. But it was windy and a little wet out, and the streets were nearly deserted. She liked this weather. She could be alone outside.
She was getting out more than she did before highschool ended. Hana worked for a year before entering cram-school. She would have gone straight in, if her dad hadn't died when he did.
Hana had a small measure of autonomy, because of that. Or rather, because she had worked, and later because she had to pull all nighters at the library often. School was not every day, but there was enough work to bog her down. It was easy to remember essential stuff, but she got extremely tired of memorizing things she'd never need anyway.
What she wanted to do was to sit somewhere quiet and analyze something. As long as it wasn't math, she was fine with it. Math was tedious. Getting the most consistently good grades in it annoyed her.
Despite the amount she had to be in public, a lot if the time Hana barely had the dempa under control. But today, she was restless, and walking distracted her. Plus she needed the practice. Not in using her psychic powers, but in not using them. Staying disciplined enough to have her own coherent thoughts was hard enough in her own house, never mind outside.
She was walking along a reservoir. A fence kept the kiddies from falling in, and a wall kept them from playing in other people's yards. There was a clinic down the block. She knew from having passed by another time and seeing patients come out that they did kidney dialysis.
There were walls there. She had no way of knowing if anyone was inside, really. No reason to go in and look to find out, because her kidneys were fine, she told herself. Four was a little late to stop wetting herself, though.
The dempa stirred a little, but stayed dormant. She resisted sickly pull to let go and let the mood of the sickly inside flood into her. It was easier. She'd let her dad in, when he was going. He put on a good show, but she'd felt the horrible all-consuming stress, and was almost relieved when it was replaced by resignation. It was strange, she wanted to feel it again. It was like a warm blanket.
She steeled herself and told herself she had no way of knowing someone was dying in there, and tried to go over her day in her head again. She'd learned this trick from Tohru. Keeping the babble going in her own head did drowned out all other thoughts, and kept her from concentrating too long on something that might disturb her.
Hana didn't have to feel people on the other side of walls, as long as she concentrated. She kept telling herself that, and she was closer every day to believing it.
As she approached the path, an tall man in a dark suit walked out. Hana froze. Despite having her guard up, something that unusual was hard to ignore. If she had the guard down in the first place, she might have had some trouble. It would have been disorienting.
She walked up to the man, who was leaning against door of the car parked immediately in front, absently lighting a cigarette. She stared at him for a long time, squinting. Nothing became any clearer to her.
"Who are you?" she said.
"Excuse me?" he said, taking notice of her for the first time.
"Who are you?"
He gave her an odd look. He was thin. The suit didn't quite fit him, but was obviously tailor made. His skin hung a little lose on his frame, like the suit. He'd lost weight recently.
"Young lady, I am not in the mood for a conversation. Excuse me."
"I don't want your name. Who, exactly, are you? Why are you like this?"
"You shouldn't ask a stranger that question."
"Why?"
He tensed up. He'd forgotten he had a cigarette, and let it burn down while he looked at her.
"Good day."
He turned away, willfully ignoring her.
"I wonder how I'll remember this." she said.
"What?" He turned and looked at her again, this time more focused. His eyes where almost white, irises rimmed with dark murky brown. It gave him an intense, uncanny look. He seemed to be in high contrast; dark brown hair, untanned skin, unnaturally light eyes.
Well, eye. One was hidden behind his hair. The hair wasn't long, as in grown out, but merely left uncut.
"I... I don't know. Some days, I go over events over and over again. Other days, I hardly remember them. I've done a lot of things lately I know I couldn't have done before, and I wonder if I was capable of doing them until I had done them. I wonder, if I forget... I guess, what it was like to bury someone, for instance. I don't remember it every day. I wonder, if I forget it, will I still act as if it'd happened?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it. She was used to this. He was deciding if she was crazy. Maybe she was lately.
"Why... are you asking me this?"
"Because I think you're the kind of person who would know.
His eyes widened. "Who are you?"
Hana opened her mouth to answer, but suddenly felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She wheeled around to the door, almost falling over.
It had to be a person. Nothing else was that focused. It filled her consciousness with a deep red so thick she felt herslef begin to choke on it.
Everything around her turned faded and purple, as the red covered her. Every pore in her body screamed as she felt the dark seep in as it said something.
She felt sick. Not the slow, strange feeling of nausea, but the violent need to force out the vileness. She fell to the ground and threw up on the curb, before drifting into darkness.
Hana was suddenly aware her eyes were open. They had been for a long time, and were scratchy. The ceiling above her was wooden. If she looked long enough, the small knots would arrange themselves into faces, then break off and join another arrangement of mouth, eyes, and optional nose.
There was a warm drop on her cheek. She brushed off.
Have I been crying?
She smelled the clear liquid, then tasted. It was salty, bitter, and medicinal.
Eyedrops.
Also, she was in very nice clothes. She hadn't looked down toward her feet yet. There was the warm, reassuring weight of a blanket covering her, which contrasted with the slipperiness of silk, directly on her skin.
She'd been dressed. She'd scraped her cheek and arm, but they'd been cleaned.
Some of what happened played back, but it was mostly blank. She'd... pissed herself. Wonderful. Not something she wanted anyone else to deal with, but she couldn't change what happened.
The ceiling, as fascinating as the grain of the wood happened to be, was beginning to bore her.
Time to sit up then. Any minute now.
She finally did sit up and look around. Everything was a sort of muted beige or brown- wood floor, clean yet aging plaster walls, faded gold leaf on the decorative panels built into the wall. The light from the open screen doors washed out everything further. Anything that might have any color was muted by heavy, unfiltered brightness. The furniture didn't even bother to cast long gloomy shadows. That might have given character to the place.
There was a certain efficiency in the sterile room. A definite academic atmosphere. No college academic, because of the marked absence of piles of underwear on the floor and takeout boxes. The sort of academic that organizes everything by date, height and romanji alphabetical order, because he might actually need to find things quickly.
Most things on the bookshelf were apparently out of order. But they weren't, she realized. They were in alphabetical order by what he thought of them as.
If he knew the author (she could tell because there were several of the author's books), it went by author name, then how often he used them (by how worn the spine was). If he thought of it by title, it was by title.
He knew English, because of many of the books were in the language, and some of the placement of the books would require more than just knowledge of the alphabet. One book placement made no sense, until she saw the color. A blue book, under "B." He thought of that one in terms of color, not even by topic. It was very worn.
It was all organized for speed of reference. Whoever organized these had read all of them, and had his own mental shorthand for each. He also knew himself well enough to know how he referred to them in his own head was more important than the title, if he needed to find them quickly. Entirely practical.
I'm in love... she thought to herself, half joking. The amount of control the man had over his surroundings was almost as impressive as the presence of the man himself. Everyone treats their house, office and living space as extensions of themselves. He consciously used this to his advantage.
Hana liked discipline.
She looked at the desk.
There was one thick file on it. She stood, not at all shakily, and opened the tan folder to the first page. The header at the top of the stationary was also in English.
-H. SOUMA- A Souma then. Like Yuki, Kyou and Shigure, perhaps. But not like them.
She read further. It was something about another Souma named Akito. Very sick. It was interesting to flip through. Some of the medical terms she knew, but not all of them. Many she could figure out. "Ametatheriomorphic.' was a mystery to her. It was underlined, had its own line, and was left unmodified. It was also the only one in the English alphabet, and left without comment.
"Hello," she said, not looking up, "thank you very much for cleaning me up."
Hatori paused when he saw her, bent over the folder, hair down. The kimono she wore fit very well, although she was a couple inches too short for it. She'd thrown the sleeves up high in her arms, and stood with her feet too far apart, either unaware of how to wear it, or uncaring.
He squared his shoulders and walked in. The floor did not creek, and he was light on his feet for his height. He was sure he'd been absolutely silent.
"It is unethical for you to look at another person's chart. And rude to stare at those pictures."
"Then you shouldn't have left it there for any curious stranger to rifle through. I think this front view of him is really breathtaking."
"I am not interested in knowing anything about that." he said briskly.
"Nudity bothers you? How did you manage with me then?"
"I'm a doctor. I manage."
"Good. Not interested in the nudity, in any case. He has a certain... presence, doesn't he? I usually don't get that just from photos. He's quite unashamed."
"There are worse things to him than being naked."
"Oh? Then he's intelligent as well. Would you introduce me?"
"Young lady, I-"
"Oh... Not comfortable with him?"
"That is not your concern."
"It becomes my concern whether I want it to or not. Is he a lover?"
He did not move, but Hana blinked. "No? He seems to be very important."
"He is a family member. You have heard of the Soumas."
"Yes, I've heard of you. Photographs of most people don't look real anyway. They look just like furniture. It's how he's standing."
Hatori knew the picture. He'd taken it. Akito was mostly naked, with his arms stretched away from his sides to show his proportions. Akito had several disorders, and he'd had to send some of the photos away to specialists in other countries. He couldn't call someone in.
"Does he see himself as a Christ-figure?"
"No, I asked him to stand that way, he just stretched out a little more. He's not dying for anyone's sins. Perhaps he lives for them. I think that's how he sees himself."
"That's very personal. Why are you telling me?"
Hatori sat without answering.
"Is he the person from outside the clinic?" Hana asked.
"You don't recognize him?"
"No. Most people look nothing like their photographs. I guess they don't really steal your soul. You look just like yours, though, I bet."
"So, I am soulless."
"No, just remarkable, I guess. You don't like to sleep in public."
"What?"
"No. Just an observation. What do you do if you must? I would like to know that."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.
"Really?"
He didn't know what to say to that. He balled his hands up into fists.
"I apologize." she said. "I have an advantage over you."
"Advantage?"
"Your gift is different than mine. We're not on equal footing."
"Really?"
"Yes. What is your talent? Not dempa, then what?"
Hatori sighed. He walked over to his desk and sat down, heavily. He pointed over to a chair in the corner.
"This is not going to go anywhere if I pretend I don't know what you're talking about, and you assume I do know. If you must explain something to me, assume I know absolutely nothing on the subject, and I will stop you if you are over explaining. Cards on the table?"
"You first," she said.
"Fine. I am able to see, search through, and remove memory."
Hana pulled up the other chair and sat, "You want something or else I wouldn't be here. Why haven't you searched through my memory for whatever it is?"
"You'd remember it. I'd have to remove the memory of that as well. If you struggle, it'll be tedious and violent. I'm not going to do it if I'm not sure there's something to be found, or I absolutely must. You?"
"I can read dempa. Auras, I guess."
"You read minds?"
"No. The experience of being someone gives them the luxury of discarding irrelevant detail in the moment. I don't know what's relevant, and there's not enough room for a whole other mind in mine, so I only get an impression. Some people who are either very disciplined or gifted are able to put up a guard. The better the guard, the more they look like their photograph. Yours is extraordinary."
"If that is the case, how would you know I was there, behind you? I know you didn't hear me."
"You reacted a little, for some reason. Broke through."
"Hm. Why did that... someone disturb you?"
"It was... I don't know. I've never had that happen before."
"It hurt?"
"Yes, I suppose so. So it's the same person?"
The man leaned forward in his chair and lowered his guard. Her eyes flickered then widened.
It was absolutely huge. There was a loud, confusing boom like the sound of the sea, a white noise that drowned out everything. It was unrelenting, unwavering and pounded against her, like merciless water. She felt herself start to shiver.
His eyes narrowed a little when he saw it, both surprised and satisfied. She had told the truth.
A quiet, slow, deliberate voice echoed in every part of her mind.
"I think you misunderstand. I know where you live. I know who your friends are. I know where you go to school. I know your age and birthdate. I know your social status and the approximate income of your household. I know the state of your health and of your virginity, and how to use those to my advantage. When you leave, you will have absolutely no memory of what happened here. The less you cooperate, the less you will remember of what happened, and possibly of anything else that matters to you. You are in no position to demand answers, Hanajima Saki."
Hana fought through the numbness to breathe.
"Don't struggle, Saki. There's a good reason I keep my guard up. There's more. I will hurt you if I have to."
The man's eyes bored into her, looking for any sign she would break or hesitate. The girl was very close.
Hana looked for any coherent thing the dempa told her. She found it.
Hana let out a jerking breath she meant to be a laugh, and said "I hate subtext."
She sprang forward, pressing her lips against his. He gasped- and leaned forward into it.
Hana grabbed his hand and put it over her own eyes. She was running on pure adrenaline, and the dempa had taken over. She took a moment to think. Why was his hand there? It didn't matter, it worked.
He made some sort of connection, almost involuntarily, and the roar of pure weaponized presence quieted to something more familiar, but still nearly unbearably intense as his mind began to slip into hers. She panicked and pushed back into his, searching for anything she could control- and found it.
She could see herself, with his hand over her eyes. She felt his heart beat in his chest, and the sudden wave of nausea come over him just as he felt her taking over his body. She didn't let him move, didn't even let him breathe. She watched his mind until she saw what she was looking for.
When she found it, Hana removed her hand from his eyes, and let up a little. He gasped for air. The connection lingered, and she kept his muscles stiff as long as she could.
"Let me go."
Hana was so furious her face was numb. She wished she'd made him vomit.
"Hatori. I found your name, you asshole. You don't think I've had someone in my head before? Don't you ever do that to me again. I will kill you."
She had no idea if she could. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before. He looked panicked, and she wanted to keep him that way.
"You're barely keeping it together. I could do worse than kill you. I bet I could break that guard of yours. I could make it so you'll never pass as normal."
She didn't know if she could. The conviction in her voice came from the sureness she would find a way to do it. She let him slip away.
Hatori jerked back into his chair. He clutched at his hand as if it were wounded.
"Would you like a cigarette?"
"Was that fun for you?" he said bitterly.
"To touch you or get inside your head?"
"Either."
She could have yelled at him. She'd never yelled at anyone in her life. She said, quietly "You're acting as if I had done something to you, Hatori. I stopped you."
Hatori found his lost stoicism.
"We are, I am afraid, at an impasse," he said. "I must find out what you know and, at the very least, take what you do know. I also need to know how you found out, and prevent repeat discovery. If I can't, you will be killed. That is the situation. I would greatly appreciate it if you would cooperate."
"You assaulted me to prevent me from telling people you're gifted?"
"No. Nobody can prove or disprove mind reading, nobody would believe you."
"So something that can be proven?"
He gritted his teeth. "I am trying to save your life, damn you."
"I'm supposed to thank you for not killing me?"
"I wouldn't be the one doing it, you idiot!"
"You still don't have the right. If you don't want to kill me, then don't. If you do, get it over with. Now, you will take me someplace to eat, then take me home."
"No."
"Then I walk out of here myself. I wonder how far I will get before I'm caught. You know what I can do if you touch me, and I will scream or make you scream until someone comes. How far do you think I'll get if I walk out by myself?"
She saw by his look, not far at all.
"I don't believe you'd do it."
"Do you want to gamble on whether you want me to live more than I do? We're going."
Hana waited by the door while he got his jacket.