Really long AN: A sort of twisted fairytail. Spelling intentional. =]

I was reading about a certain Aesop Fable the other day involving a cat that caught my attention. I figured I could twist a lot of stuff for interesting furuba parallels, and tada!

While this story has a much greater impact with background knowledge of Fruits Basket, it's not necessary to have watched/read the series to understand what's going on. Thus is the beauty of an AU fic. Yay. I don't want to be all-assuming and suggest that my idea's completely original and never been done before, but I haven't wandered across any with this particular plot line yet, so… let me know if you happen to find any others so I can read them too. I love comparing fictions!

There is no actual 'Zodiac' in the furuba sense in this fic, but there are other mythical aspects intertwined here that will be a huge part of this fic, so if you don't like that, I'd advise you to step out now. I've never been one for crappy vampire/werewolf/fairy/demon type stories, so don't expect to see any of that. I haven't created any All-powerful!creatures or created any on my own for this fic, and any mythical fairytale-like things you see will be from other country's folklore and straight out of Aesop Fables.

I'd advise anyone who's interested to check out any French myths, specifically involving cats... but the japanese ones hold some truth as well.

For all of you that opened this hoping it was a new chapter (finally) of Teaching Patience, I'm sorry.

I'm such a bad person! _ My laptop is currently… I believe 'fried' would be the perfect word for it… and my nearly completed chapter 10 of Teaching Patience was on there. I do NOT really want to have to write the whole thing up again. Ugh. That's what I get for not writing it all out first. From now on I'm e-mailing these to myself every 500 words. That'll teach me.

I haven't given up Teaching Patience – not by a long shot – but until I manage to get my laptop issue sorted out (within the next week or two hopefully), I thought I'd get started on something else I've been wanting to do. It's a completely different category, but still entertaining, I hope. Enjoy.

Prologue:

Storybook Symmetry

"The world was on the brink of full-out war. One wrong move on the part of either superpower and the world as we – they – knew it would've been over."

Silence, blank stares, and more than a few eyes closed altogether. A black-haired boy in the back subtly attempted to check the time on his overly expensive iPhone that had probably taken only half of the spoiled teen's weekly allowance.

Well, that was one question answered. The teacher wasn't blind or naïve; she was just too lazy to address the cellphone problem.

"Thank you, Mr. Sohma," Ms. Stevens drawled from her place behind her desk, slack-clad legs draped over the cluttered surface like discarded laundry. "Now that we've gone over the thrilling Cuban Missile Crisis, let's hear –" a quick glance at the clock "- never mind. Just… chat for the next five minutes." A paperback book – A Teacher's Guide to Stress Management – went up to her reclining face to rest over her eyes. Upside down. "Don't break anything."

The magic words being said, the class seemed to come alive; students began pulling up chairs to sit in small groups about the room. Cliques abounded. It was primary school all over again. The aforementioned 'Mr. Sohma' slumped into his seat with a small exhale, finally letting his shoulders relax out of the tense grip public speaking always instilled in him. He could know his speech forward and back, but put him in front of a crowd and enthusiasm would disappear – he lectured like an overworked college professor.

"I think you did very well on your report, Sohma-senpai." The teen turned towards the speaker and smiled exhaustedly back at her beaming face. Tohru was always a sight for sore eyes, and she always helped to put a bad mood into better perspective.

"Thank you for the support, Miss Honda, but diction's always been a large percentage of the report grades, and when public speaking I can't help but fall a little… flat…"

As expected, the girl's countenance changed to worried in a flash, Asian heritage showing through in the squinting of frantic eyes. "Oh, no!" she denied, the lavender ribbons in her hair tossing back and forth, "You sounded great! I couldn't even remember the dates for mine. I'm sure Stevens-sensei will give you a very good grade."

"I'm sure you did fine." She was always worrying over everyone else. Sometimes he wanted to just shake her and tell her to take care of herself for once, but that wasn't his place. Besides, shaking people was generally regarded as rude, and if Yuki was anything it was eternally polite.

They were one of the last to leave the classroom when the day bell finally did ring five minutes later, and as Yuki was placing the last of his schoolbooks into his bag, a group of freshman and sophomore girls skittered into the doorway, faces aflame and several of them anxiously smoothing their pleated uniform skirts. Tohru's fanclub had finally found her, it seemed.

"Miss Honda!" Their leader stepped out, decked out in pink and Hello Kitty as though the accessories would make her as Japanese as her idol. "We would like to request to accompany you to the movies! Please let us!"

Tohru glanced between her fans and her friend for a moment, not wanting to upset either, before Yuki patted her on the shoulder, best smile glued in place. "It's alright, Miss Honda. Have fun with your friends. I'll see you when you get home."

"Um – hai!"

Many of the girls looked uncertain whether to be upset at the reminder that their idol was currently taking up residence with the other teen and not them, or to be pleased at the acquiescence, but all was settled with a smile from Tohru that had them squealing and dragging the older girl out the door by the hand. Yuki found himself waving sadly at her retreating back, and sighed again, shouldering his bag and following behind the gossiping girls at a distance.

It wasn't that he couldn't understand why the girls doted on Tohru Honda – he understood all too well. She was kind – overly so – and a great friend. Too great a friend. No one deserved that kind of caring devotion and no one could return it to the same degree. She would sooner chop off her own hand than kill a fly, and she was faithful to a fault. And she was so cute…

But that was going down a road that was torn down, closed off, and detoured to Friendship Street for the foreseeable future.

And while Tohru Honda was the epitome of popular teenage girl, Yuki Sohma was just an average guy with a socializing problem. Besides occasionally being teased and called, 'Prince Yuki', for his perfect grades, there was nothing extraordinarily special about him, and he knew it well. He didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell. Even with the icy name irony.

He joined the crowd along the three flights of stairs leading out of the large brick building and separated somewhere between the front doors and towering rot-iron gate as he wandered off to stand under the pink-tinted shade of one of the school's many cherry blossom trees. Or 'sakura' trees, if you were listening to Tohru. Having only moved to the states two years ago, most sentences were peppered with ethnic phrasing, and like a trend, Tohru's word spread until most of the school's female population would refer to something as 'kawaii' just as easily as they could say 'cute'.

A heavy hand descended onto his shoulder, jerking him back to reality. Hatsuharu.

"Do I need to walk you home again?" Yuki sighed exasperatedly, stepping out from under the jewelry-encrusted hand. Today's outfit on the taller boy was all black despite the dress code (big surprise there) with the multitude of silver chains and spikes that had teenage girls drooling about his bad boy image. That was until they saw his 'bike' at least.

"Yeah. Momiji had to see the doctor for his checkup." He ran a hand through his hair, grumbling when the rings got caught in black and white strands. Haru could swear his tongue off that the separated black and white of his hair was completely natural, and he'd even managed to convince the principal somehow, but Yuki had always been skeptical. Then again, it had been that way ever since Yuki's aunt had adopted the boy at age seven. Maybe it was a genetic anomaly from his real parents or something.

Large gray eyes were waiting patiently, and Yuki found himself agreeing despite his earlier annoyance. The younger teen had the directional sense of a barnyard animal, and coupled with his black and white hair, it was easy to see why much of the family referred to him as 'the cow'. It was merely coincidence that Haru was born on the year of the Ox.

The walk to the Sohma main house wasn't an overly long one – only about two miles or so – but as with everything else the cow did, his ambling pace made any trip considerably longer. He stopped them at nearly every other shop along the way, claiming each time that there was something he had to pick up for Momiji, or Risa, or Hiro. Yuki imagined choking his younger cousin as he left the third store, still no bags in hand.

"I forgot what I needed to get," Haru admitted easily, thumbs tucking themselves into the front pocket of his black leather jeans.

The pair stepped back onto the narrowing sidewalk, Yuki hastened the pace in hopes that the taller boy would start moving faster as well, lest he be left behind. "Fine. Just…" How to put this politely? "Can you write them on a list or something, and then pick them up tomorrow? I've got to get home to help Shigure with dinner."

Haru glanced at Yuki with his usual blank expression, but the corner of his lip curled up in curiosity; Yuki was forced to give up his faster pace as he gained more and more distance on his cousin. "Isn't that usually Tohru's job?"

"She's spending the evening with her friends at the theaters. It's just us tonight."

"You guys sound pretty useless without her… Seems like she's a Sohma already."

His heart beat rapidly in his chest, and Yuki had to force down the lump in his throat before turning towards a slightly smirking Haru. "What do you mean, already?"

A blank look came over the other boy and he peered up to the graying sky, fingers lacing behind his head. "It's nothing. It's just obvious that you like her, I mean." He glanced in Yuki's direction with warm gray eyes. "You're always staring at her. And you live together already, so what's the big deal? Ask the girl out already."

"No, I couldn't—I mean, it's not like that," Yuki stuttered, staring at the darkening sky as well to ignore the heat spreading to his cheeks.

"Then what is it like?"

"We're just friends." How true that was. "We see each other all the time, at school and at home, so it's completely natural for me to have some sort of affection for her. It's not—we could never be anything more."

"Never know until you try."

Gravel road gave way to a slate drive, and as they turned the last corner through the trees, a low sprawling building rose before them. The Sohma main house was designed in the same manner as the traditional Japanese temples – surrounded by luscious gardens and angled jade roofs – but with a second floor to house its many occupants. Several generations ago, the Sohma family had come to America from Japan, and while interracial marriage had done its part to produce purely American-looking offspring, tradition was still the underlying core of the whole clan. Everyone marrying in had to take the Sohma name, regardless of gender, and all children were given Japanese names despite the ethnicities of their parents.

Yuki knew his name meant snow, and he supposed it was fitting with the complete pallor of his skin.

Haru waved him off at the tori (main gate), and Yuki began the trek home, faster now that the younger boy wasn't holding him back. He almost felt guilty for snapping at his cousin earlier, but he hadn't been lying when he told Haru that he really did need to get home soon. His uncle (or at least that's what he assumed Shigure was – the Sohma family was so large due to the name requirement that it was difficult to determine the relationship between you and someone else) was hopeless when it came to scrounging for some food on his own, and the last time he had tried to cook something the fire department had threatened to call the police to confiscate their oven. Sure, Yuki was only marginally better (at least he couldn't catch spaghetti on fire, or so he hoped), but if he didn't get to the house before Shigure realized Tohru wouldn't be there to cook dinner, it'd be order-out curry for dinner.

And Yuki hated curry.

As he was walking back towards Shigure's the shorter way, a squirrel chattered away in up in the branches of one of the numerous white birch trees that surrounded the main house like sentinels. When he was young he used to be afraid of the forest –unused to how the thin white plants had appeared against the quickly darkening night, hauntingly like ghosts – and he would be scolded by Shigure when the older man finally arrived to pick him up by car. Every black stripe or knot against the white wood was a leering mouth, staring eyes, and he couldn't even count the number of times he had gotten hopelessly lost amongst the endless maze of hypnotic black and white. He had grown a lot since those days though, and matured past such foolish notions.

That didn't mean that he couldn't wait to get through the woods before dark, though.

How very reminiscent of Little Red Riding Hood. Here he was, stumbling his way through the dark and scary forest to get to Uncle Shigure's house to make dinner. If only his school blazer was red and there actually were wolves in the surrounding woods.

'I should've brought a warmer jacket,' he thought to himself, tugging the school-issued thin blazer tighter around his chest. 'A flashlight too.' Already the sky was rapidly turning black through the gaps in the dying tree branches, charcoal gray clouds swirling ominously through the blackness, threatening rain.

Sooner than he had thought, he finally escaped the cold silence of the birch forest, only to have it replaced by the cold silence of an emptying city, where occupants were huddling in their coats against the cold, rushing to get home to warm up by cozy fires and hot cups of cocoa. The forest path opened up near the slummier part of town, and if it weren't for the convenience of the quicker path through the woods, Yuki probably would never have ventured this way alone. In spite of the faint sun they had gotten earlier, the sidewalks all looked damp, as though this area alone had experienced the rain. Trash and candy wrappers, beer bottles, newspaper ads littered the clogged drains. A rundown building across the cracked street had some kind of blue graffiti referencing a gang across the faded, green-painted steel door. Someone's leftover fish dinner rotted in an overflowing steel garbage can, a scene Yuki had previously thought only belonged in movies. He could almost smell the despair.

Carefully, he weeded his way through the unused side streets towards the residential side of town, cautious of molding vans that could potentially hold serial killers or dark alleys that could house gang fights against the helpless student. He kept under the flickering and yellowing streetlights because even though it would only advertise his location, he couldn't help but want to stay where he could see just what he was walking on at all times.

One never did know in neighborhoods like this.

Suddenly, a shout rang out a ways up the street, down a dark alley, causing Yuki to jump in spite of himself. Another one quickly followed, accompanied by the tinny sound of a metal garbage can falling over and the low chuckling of a gang of men that were probably picking on someone much smaller than themselves.

Yuki froze in his place under the streetlamp, unsure whether to go find a payphone and call for help, or to walk on quietly and pretend he didn't notice the possible mugging occurring yards from him. Actually doing anything proactive was out of the question. He may have had a few years of karate experience when he was younger, but he had gotten bored (like most children do) around green belt and quit, moving on instead to painting (which he had kept up for just about the same amount of time). Besides, by the raucous laughter coming from the alley under the burnt-out streetlight, there were definitely more than just a few men involved, and he knew he didn't stand a chance.

A quick glance around proved that he wouldn't find a payphone anywhere near this grime-encrusted hellhole, either. It may have been against his morals to allow someone to get hurt, but with nothing else he could do, he was forced to admit defeat.

Each guilty step brought him closer to alley, and now he didn't even try to find solace in the dim lighting along the sidewalk. He heard a few pained whimpers and his imagination supplied an image of a young girl being cornered by three huge men, leering smirks across their hideous faces. Another step, and it was an old man, feeble with age and moaning as he was knocked to the ground for his wallet. One more and it was poor Momiji…

He was right beside the opening to the alley now, and he told himself not to look. Begged his head not to turn, pleaded his eyes not to see, but as these situations always go, his body wouldn't listen to him.

There were indeed three huge young men, grotesque smirks stretched across their ugly mugs, but it wasn't a little girl they were cornering. It wasn't an old man they were beating down. Momiji wasn't in this alley.

Being kicked in the chest, back and stomach by the three men was a boy – a teen – with the brightest hair he had ever seen. The teen was curled up in a ball, only the mop of flaming orange hair proving where his head was as the larger teens threw bruising kicks at the quivering and mud-splashed torso. An arm was thrown out the side, fingers slipping as nails clawed at the ground for control.

"What do you want, pretty boy?"

Suddenly, Yuki realized that the men had stopped their assault, and the largest of the three had a sausage-like finger pointed his direction. Absently he glanced down at himself, crazily imagining he would see a big red target painted to the front of his blue school blazer. There wasn't, but he could see the buttonholes perfectly, and that was when he realized that somewhere during the attack his body had stepped forward without permission from his brain, right into the light from the lamp above his head, and that it might as well have been a big red target.

Their assumed leader took another menacing step in his direction, and Yuki was jolted out of his rambling thoughts, realizing that the question wasn't as rhetorical as he had originally thought. He swallowed roughly through the knot his vocal chords had twisted themselves into. It might have been an odd time to think of it, but he suddenly had the intense urge for a cold glass of some kind of juice. Maybe apple?

"Methinks he wants to learn a lesson too, eh Joey?" Voice like wind whooshing through a tunnel, tightening of muscles that looked more like the bulldozer that made the tunnel. 'Joey' sneered back, the crumpled figure of the orange-headed kid apparently forgotten in the lure of fresh meat.

Methinks? Did anyone even say that anymore? Apparently...

"Now, now... let's not be hasty..." his voice finally choked out, his body stepping back, again of its own accord. "I–I didn't do anything to you. I can just keep on my way and pretend I never saw anything..." Mentally, he was screaming obscentities at himself for offering silence, but as it stood, there were no other real options available. Unless...

Unbeknownst to the three thugs, their victim shakily pushed himself to his elbows, then knees. He didn't look well, and in all likelihood wouldn't be any real help in a fight, but if this was played out right, they might just both make it out of here in one piece.

"Now, we don't like people who meddle in family affairs," the one called Joey sneered. Now that Yuki was looking for it, it was obvious that all three were in some way related – if not by the identical beady eyes than by their massive size – but then how could the skinny orange-haired teen possibly be related to such giants? "Although, if the little freak hadn't have run away, none of this would've been necessary."

"You would've tried to run away too, if you were being treated the way I was!" All three of the bullies turned towards the slighter teen, who was shakily propping himself up against the side of a wayward dumpster, breathing hard through gritted teeth that glinted despite the scattered shadows negated only by Yuki's streetlight and the red-tinted light coming from a window in the adjacent building right above their heads [that Yuki hadn't even noticed up until now]. It seemed that the smallest – and so far the quietest – of the bully brothers finally noticed their possible audience too, for he immediately turned and made several 'shh' gestures to his bigger brothers that were promptly ignored.

But the oldest didn't have nearly as much sense and his grating barking only became steadily louder. "And why the hell would we treat you like anything but the filthy animal you are? It's not like you ever did anything good for us. You're completely useless! You can't even run away right!"

Before he could stop himself, words were already tumbling out of Yuki's lips. "If you seem to hate him so much, why bother chasing him down?"

"That's a good question," the largest one snarled, glaring one last time at the injured redhead before nodding his head towards the road – towards Yuki. Yuki felt his muscles tense up as the larger men grew closer, but the talker of the group had on a joking sneer, as though he knew something the other didn't. And he probably did. One didn't usually wear that look for no reason. "You seem to care an awful lot 'bout that freak's welfare. Tell you what, you can be that shithead's keeper from now on. Have fun."

And then they were gone, echoes of guffawing laughter carrying back to the two frozen in the alleyway, unsure of what to do next.

A shuffle behind him reminded Yuki that he was not alone. He turned towards the boy he had just unwittingly saved, and froze, caught in the stare of the other male. Under the gaudy glow of the prostitute's red light, the others eyes glowed like a cat – practically all iris and the crimson of newly-shed blood. Not that he had ever actually seen copious amounts of fresh blood, but horror movies could go a long way to sustain the imagination. It was terrible, but for a moment he could almost understand why the boy's brother had called him an animal. But then those eyes flickered away, back to his hand supporting him against the overflowing dumpster, and Yuki was forcibly reminded that the other teen had just been beaten up – jumped – by his own brothers. Surely he couldn't just go home now, to where those monsters were waiting for him?

Without saying a word, he toed a path through the alley filth to the boy and looped an arm around the thin waist, pulling an arm over his shoulders to steady the teen. While the other male tensed at the first contact, he relaxed some against Yuki once he realized that Yuki was actually planning on helping him and wasn't a vulture coming in to pick off the leftovers of a beaten prey. The least he could do was to help the shorter boy to a bench – hopefully somewhere with a light and payphone – and then maybe the boy would be able to help himself from there.

"Where do you live?"

Yuki started as the soft question puffed against his sensitive ear and almost dropped the boy leaning against him. He couldn't be serious... "I don't think–"

"You got me kicked out, so I'm staying with you."

He apparently was serious. There was a growl in his voice that teetered on annoyance, but was drowned out overall by utter exhaustion and slightly muffled by a body that just didn't want to hold itself up much longer. But as much as he felt for the guy – he really did – Yuki wasn't about to just invite some stranger into his family's home. "I didn't get you kicked out, I saved you! ["or at the very least stood up for you" he added in a mumble] And you were going to run away anyway."

The boy leaned against Yuki's side a little more and groaned gratefully when, a few moments later, he was able to drop down onto one of the many cheap metal benches the government had put in under the guise of 'cleaning up the city'. It was situated under another streetlight outside the park, and when his head dropped down onto the back of the park bench his hair shown like fire. Yuki couldn't help but stare. "I never could run away. Get maybe half a mile, tops. I would've just been dragged – probably kicking and screaming – back with them, but at least I'd have somewhere to stay. A roof over my head. Food when they were feeling generous. Now what? The least you could do would be to let me stay tonight." A low rumbling started in the clouds, and slowly drop by drop of rain descended to their little hideout. "It'd suck to have to sleep in a tree again."

Yuki winced. While he could empathize with the other boy for not being able to go home, at least Yuki had always had Shigure there to back him up and give him a place to stay. Really then, what harm could it be to let this kid stay just one night? Anything had to be better than a tree. "Fine," he sighed wearily, moving to stand once again, if only to get off the quickly soaked wood of the bench seat. "But only for one night, then you're gone. It isn't my house, so I can't just invite anyone I want to come live with me."

"Never said anything about living with you. Just take in a stray for the night, alright?" the other grumbled, pushing himself to his feet. He swayed for a moment, before allowing Yuki to loop his arm around his waist once more, scowl still permanently creasing otherwise pleasant features. They began the walk back to Shigure's house in relative silence, only broken by the little puffs of strained breath every couple yards and the steady rumble of thunder up above in the black.

They had made halfway down the wooded trail to Shigure's house before Yuki noticed that he had neglected his manners.

"I just realized– my name's Yuki. Yuki Sohma."

"Weird. I've never met anyone that only realized their name at what, sixteen?"

Yuki frowned. Couldn't this kid be polite for five minutes? No wonder his family wanted to get rid of him... "Seventeen," he corrected frostily, before realizing that he was trying to argue with an injured person. And injured person who looked much like a drowned cat in the rain. How rude of him. "No, what I meant was that I had forgotten to introduce myself. My name's Yu–"

"–Yuki Sohma. Got it the first time. I'm not a child, and don't need you to spell things out for me," the boy huffed, and Yuki resisted rolling his eyes.

"Then you'd know that the normal response to this situation would be to tell me your own name. You will be staying with me for the night, you know."

Muscles tensed along his side, and Yuki was forced to admit defeat; obviously the other teen didn't want to give away any personal information, and would need to be taken at face value. How disappointing. Puzzles were only fun if they could be solved, otherwise they were just a bunch of misshapen scraps taking up all your useful space. But he didn't focus too long on the enigma of the other boy. Through the trees a light was growing, and with a few more uneven steps, the peak of the cabin-like house could be discerned from the surrounding foliage. The porch light was on, as was the table lamp just behind the floor-to-ceiling front windows, but Yuki wasn't fooled. It was common knowledge that Shigure was careful with his house and possessions, and left both lights on at all time – whether he was home or not. Given the late hour, and the absence of the green jeep from under the tall wrap-around porch, it was safe to say that Shigure was off getting food.

Curry, most likely.

"It's Kyo."

Yuki didn't turn towards the smaller teen, but continued to help him along slowly, gripping tighter around his waist when he almost tripped on the gravel walkway. It could be hard to navigate on in the dark and rain if you weren't expecting it. "Just Kyo?"

Kyo pulled away jerkily, taking a few stumbling steps along the path before leaning heavily against the wet driftwood railing leading up to the massive carved-oak front door. He glared over his shaking shoulder at Yuki, although Yuki doubted much of his anger was actually directed at him. His family had just disowned him, after all. "I don't exactly belong to the Larkson family anymore, now do I?" Something shimmered in the corner of the crimson eyes, and he sniffed quickly, turning back toward the warm, dry house and the promise of a good night's sleep. Obviously the boy was in pain – whether it was more emotional or physical, Yuki couldn't begin to guess. But Kyo nearly tripped going up the four stairs to the door, and Yuki finally decided enough was enough.

In one swoop, he had one arm under the boy's knees, and one around his back, and – like a groom with his bride – carried him into the house.

"Ahk! Let me down!" he thrashed wildly against Yuki's strong hold, and would've landed on his head if it weren't for the soft suede couch he was promptly disposed of onto, just yards from the front door. By the time he could do more than sputter angrily, Yuki was already halfway up the thick cedar staircase towards the upstairs bathroom.

"It's my house – and I don't really like you – so I'm taking the first shower. Make yourself comfortable down there, and you can take one when I'm done." he called down, mumbling the part about not liking Kyo to himself – he did have his reputation to keep after all – although the other teen scowled anyway. Not waiting for a reply, Yuki stormed off up the stairs, not intending to get out of the shower until it was freezing cold and waiting for the redhead.

Hopefully by the time he came back down, it would've all been a dream.

The metal of the car door was slippery in the sudden downpour that seemed to come out of nowhere, and with his arms full of tonight's dinner, it was pure dumb luck that Shigure managed to both close and lock the door and ascend the steps to the relatively dry front porch without spilling the three to-go boxes of 'the best curry in town' all over the gravel walk. As it were, he was sure his poor sushi side dish was unraveling amongst the noodles by now.

How Aya had convinced him to stay out this late, he would never know. The man was magic, surely.

He hopped from one foot to the other on his front porch a few times, trying desperately to situate the bags on his hip long enough to get a hand into his pocket... Where his keys apparently weren't. Blink. Maybe the other one?

Both pockets (and to-go bags) yielded no results, and he very nearly cried – drenched as he was, he didn't really want to have to beg his nephew to let him in, only to laugh at his disheveled and drenched state – before he actually tried to turn the doorknob out of pure desperation. The door swung open with a creak that could only result from heavy usage.

He very nearly cried again. This time for a bit happier reason.

"Oh, Yuki-darling, I'm hooome... oh." A boy about Yuki's age sat curled up in the corner of the living room couch, staring at him with a look that was part confusion, and a good deal disdain. Not at all out of the usual, considering how flamboyant and crazed Shigure could make himself sound if the whim were to strike him. Still, he usually tried to make a good first impression to all of Yuki's new friends – God knows he didn't have nearly enough of them. "You must be one of Yuki's friends."

"You could say that," he replied. His voice was passionately dispassionate – the perfect kind of accent for a teenage rebel – and exactly the kind of voice Shigure would've cast for the bad boy in his latest novel. But that was neither here nor there, and a smirk was slowly crawling across the teen's tanned face.

"I'm Shigure Sohma, but everyone calls me either Shigure, or 'gure for short. Feel free to call me whatever you like though," he teased, winking at the younger man for good measure, "just not Baby. I feel I'm more of a Daddy, myself."

The teen snorted but stood anyway, rolling the kinks out of his shoulders while the running water upstairs shut itself off. He held out his hand, which gave Shigure's a firm shake that sent jolts down his spine, and a toothy grin, revealing pearly white teeth. His contacts didn't look so much like contacts this close.

"Nice to meet you, Shigure. The name's Kyo. Kyo Sohma."

AN:

Word count: 6,313 words. Kind of a lot for a prologue, I guess...

Things are starting to get interesting... and we haven't even gotten to the actual STORYLINE, yet! Amazing, huh? I've got some real ideas forming on this one, so just wait as things get even weirder.