White Lies: A collaboration with Hitsugi Zirkus.
We own nothing to Fruits Basket and its characters.
Prologue: White Death
To love is to destroy…
The fading remnants of Ren's words echoed in Shigure Sohma's mind once again as he watched her coffin being lowered into the deep grave. Showers of white chrysanthemums rained on the black coffin, covering up its sleek, smooth surface. A few raindrops fell from the bleak sky, bejeweling the blooms' petals like diamond droplets. Although the autumn rain wasn't in season, it fell heavily upon the darkly dressed figures surrounding the open grave, silhouetting them.
Amidst the somberly dressed figures, one woman stood out, wearing a white kimono. The rain's mist created a halo around her petite frame, and the broken petals of white chrysanthemums pooled around her feet. Raven hair wreathed around her ashen, porcelain face, and dark, dispassionate eyes stared dully at the white blooms that covered the coffin's lid like a carpet of white death. Pearly, white fabric clung to her skin, doing nothing to hide her feminine form, and Akito Sohma was every bit as deathly beautiful as her mother once was.
She truly has come far from being the one raised as a man all her life, Shigure mused as his gaze flickered over to her. With the Zodiac curse broken, and the nature of her gender revealed, Akito took to the custom of dressing more like a woman and even let her short, black hair grow out. Shigure wondered mildly if Akito would let her tresses get as long as her mother's had been, whose locks appeared as a black waterfall down her pale, naked back…
And speaking of Ren, it was her portrait that Akito held in her arms. But Shigure knew better. He and the whole Sohma family knew that Akito bore no warmth towards her mother, and having Ren lifeless before all of them did nothing to shatter the callous, emotionless mask Akito always wore.
The funeral service continued distantly, or maybe it was just Shigure who felt a million miles away from here. But he could feel it: Akito's abysmal eyes staring straight at him as the family paid their respects to the dead Ren. Even as light winds picked up and others began to shiver from the cold, Akito remained oblivious to her surroundings and kept her unwavering attention focused on the dark-haired man.
Could she sense it? Could she sense how he was tormenting her so? Shigure wore a suit that day, looking every bit as refined as a mourner should be. Mourning for Ren. Shigure could practically read Akito's mad, fragile thoughts: You miss her, don't you? You'll miss her, you'll yearn for her, but now it's just me. No more walls, and no more secrets. You're mine now.
Shigure almost chuckled at the thought. He felt a presence shift near him, and he looked over to see Ayame's eyes silently ask if he was alright. He offered a small smile in assurance, and remained as composed as he always was, even when Hatori's warm hand offered mild solace as it lightly gripped his shoulder. They really were his best friends, but even they couldn't comprehend how deep the tension was between him and Akito. Shigure's friends didn't know that with the hands he had in his pockets, he had explored that frail body of Ren Sohma's; that with his lips, he marked her even when he unknowingly visualized another beneath him…
As the funeral service finally came to a close, the sleek black coffin was lowered, dragging the pure, white chrysanthemums with it. The wind picked up once more, rustling the grass and everyone's hair lightly. Before the chrysanthemums could all disappear underneath the earth, one snowy bloom, carried by the wind, landed at Shigure's feet. He was the only one who noticed its insignificant existence while everyone else's gaze was directed at Akito. Most of the Sohmas crowded to her side, fussing over her and trying to appease to her foul, stormy moods in case she had one. That, of course, was pointless considering the blatant hatred Akito always harbored for her mother.
"This rain can't be good for Akito's health," Hatori commented, his gaze falling on the head of the family. "Really now, of all days to plan a funeral… I'll see to it that she gets home as soon as possible. I'm assuming you two are coming?"
"Goodness no!" Ayame cried dramatically, flipping back tresses of his long, silvery hair. "I plan to bathe as soon as I can." He cast Hatori a sly look. "Perhaps Gure-san and I will summon you later to share some of my delicious tea, Tori-san!"
"I can't possibly attend to everyone in the family," the dark-haired man muttered sardonically, casting a hand to his temples.
"Well, I'm afraid I can't join you this time either, Hatori," Shigure sighed, conjuring up his playful persona. "I have to take the kiddies home, you know." By that, he meant Yuki, Kyo, and Tohru, all of whom who still lived under his roof and also attended the funeral. Even Tohru, who wasn't officially part of the Sohma family, but Kyo had insisted fervently that if he was required to go, he'd take the young girl with him.
"In that case, I'll be leaving now," Hatori announced, heading over to Akito's side with a protesting Ayame in tow.
Shigure's dark eyes were cast down, and he saw that the chrysanthemum from Ren's grave still sat at his feet. He bent to pick it up, aware that the petals still stood upright despite the raindrops that continued to burst upon it. Rising, he twirled the stem of the bloom between his forefinger and thumb. Feeling that familiar, intense gaze on him once again, he looked up and met Akito's stoic, black eyes regarding him silently.
Turning away from Akito, he tucked the chrysanthemum into his suit pocket.
A smile slowly formed on his lips.