A/N: Because I'm a sucker for happily ever after. I don't own Fruits Basket, and this is unbetaed, as well as being my first ever FB fic.
In Essence
For all the love that didn't get a proper ending.
(But, really, it's because love never ends.)
Akito and Shigure: Titles
It's difficult for her to remember the woman things of her life. In the mornings, naked and bare and female, she will tip-toe to the closet and the first shirt she handles will be Shigure's. The male clothes are a shield she shucked years ago, but the time she wore them far outweighs the time she hasn't. The soft linen will tease her fingers; the stiff collars and pearl buttons smooth and tantalizing. His kimono offer the hidden figure she occasionally desires, but then she will hear him shift the pallet, a soft huff of breath (the only time he is ever truly defenseless) and her hands will stray to the flirty skirts and floral blouses.
Akito will always remember her upbringing. After all, she was God. Not only that, but she was a 'man' and the 'leader.'
She is no longer God, though she is still 'leader.' Titles she is proud to add are 'lover' and 'wife.'
Sunlight filters soft and tentative through the sliding doors; red and purple and orange, like a bruise right before it heals.
"Come back to bed," Shigure grumbles from the sanctity of the blankets.
Akito silently closes the closet; turning away from the clothes that label her. She is naked and bare and female, and Shigure loves this, she knows. Because she slides beside his naked and bare and male body, and it fits with hers; chest to delicate back, face to neck. His arm wraps around her like a gentle chain, beautiful.
One day, 'mother' will be a title she would like to add too. Not yet, though. Not yet.
O
Hatori and Mayuki: Translation
"No, no more," Mayu declares from the entrance of Hatori's office, which appears to have been the victim of a paperwork hurricane. "You're taking a break and you will not argue."
"Ah," Hatori replies, looking up from his desk and blinking dazedly. "I thought you would be at work…?"
Mayu rolls her eyes in disgust. "You are the worst. Summer break started yesterday, remember?"
Hatori blinks again. "Oh, ah. Hmm."
Mayu tilts her hips, a stern hand placed at her waist as she stares her boyfriend down. "Here's the deal," she finally says. "You're taking me out to dinner tonight, and you're paying, and it's going to be nice." She checks her watch. "Be ready in two hours."
A small smile quirks Hatori's lips. "Will you wear a dress? I like seeing Mayu in a dress."
She flushes slightly, looking off to the side pointedly. "Maybe."
"A short one," he insists, adoring the lovely pink of her cheeks.
"I said maybe, okay?" she replies, still staring intently at the wall. Hatori stands up, ignoring the waterfall of files that cascade from his lap. Steadily he approaches her, soft footsteps, like a predator. She pretends to not notice, even as he places his hands on her slender hips, dipping his head to nuzzle her temple.
"Mm," he murmurs.
"Hmph," she replies.
Their kiss is sweet, and it's the most beautiful language they have ever spoke.
O
Yuki and Machi: What Counts
Moonlight filters in through the windows, lighting window boxes crowded with flowers and herbs, a spring flourish of nighttime grays and whites. Machi is half dozing in the small kitchen when Yuki finally arrives home, flipping on the harsh lighting and startling them both.
"Why aren't you in bed?" Yuki exclaims, quickly padding over to her.
Machi blinks sleepily. "I was just," she murmurs, "watching the flowers."
Yuki frowns sternly. "Your sleep is more important."
"Okay," she agrees, pliant, too tired to argue. She glances out the window to see the flowers one more time, but all she sees is the reflection of her and Yuki. With a smile, she allows him to pull her to their bedroom.
O
Hiro and Kisa: Growing Pains
It's Kisa who is the brave one. She pulls him aside, behind a crooked tree and a scraggly bush, cheeks flushed, eyes unfocused and staring at the ground.
Hiro is concerned. "Are you okay?" he questions, trying to feel her forehead and search for any injuries. Perhaps the beating she took all those years ago still controls his fears. But she lightly smacks his hand away and begins to fidget.
"I have to tell you something," she whispers, looking like she is about to cry.
Worry clenches his heart. What is wrong? Why is she so nervous? Does she dislike him? Maybe she got a boyfriend…? Dread fills his chest.
"Okay…" he replies hesitantly.
"I like you," she says. "I like you a lot." She looks up expectantly.
Hiro quirks his head. "I like you too, Kisa."
Color floods her face. "No!" she declares. "I like you!"
He blinks, then it dawns on him. She-she-
And he notices how he's much taller than her now. Kisa has always been petite, delicate, feminine, but now he is bigger, masculine. Almost like an adult.
Shyly Hiro reaches for her hands, gathering them in his (so large compared to hers) and tenderly bringing them up to his lips. He's a little embarrassed, after all, he's not a sap.
But Kisa has always been an exception.
"I like you too, Kisa," he says, then awkwardly kisses her fingers.
They can't look in each other eyes for days, but when he reaches for her hand, she eagerly links her fingers with his.
O
Hatsuharu and Rin: A Little Bit More
They touch and taste, as they have from the beginning. He runs his hands along her body, down valleys, across crevices, worshipping skin. She submits; his lover, his wife, his reason. And then she pushes and straddles him, exploring with tongue and teeth and, reaffirming that he is hers. They are bound and possessed and free.
Rin moans. Hatsuharu whispers.
A baby cries.
Both freeze. Hatsuharu groans and stares at the ceiling. "Timing. Why such awful timing…?"
Rin smiles and slides off him, collapsing onto the rumpled sheets with a fwomp. "Your turn," she quips, burrowing beneath a pillow.
Hatsuharu sighs, put-upon. "I'll be back," he informs her, lightly pinching the back of her neck. A muffled laugh is her response as he slips from the bed to check on their son.
O
Hanajima and Kazuma: One at a Time
"Eh?" he says as she calmly smiles at him. Tea steams liltingly in the air, and Saki is calm.
"I said," she repeats, "I love you."
For the first time she sees him lose his indestructible cool, the pleasant smile replaced by gaping shock. His cheeks are cute when flushed, she thinks.
"How… unexpected," he says finally.
"Mm," she replies, taking a sip.
She'll work on him. His love for her is not as unknown as he thinks.
After all, she can sense it.
O
Kureno and Arisa: Sweetie
He's a little clumsy, but she likes that. He's a little stern, but she likes that too. He is ten years older, yet she still has to teach him. Convenience stores are still a bit foreign, so she enjoys taking him there. She giggles, forcing the small basket on him and filling it with snacks he never knew existed.
"I," he says, staring in consternation at the melon candies she just shoved in, "do not think these are healthy."
"Of course not," she agrees, grabbing another odd flavored candy to pile in. "But you haven't tried them, have you?"
"No…."
Arisa smiles. "Well, I don't want you missing out on anything. You can't miss out on life!"
He slants a glance at her knowingly. "I think I have everything I need."
Arisa snorts, shoving chips into the basket, but a smile plays joyously around her lips.
She can't help but agree.
O
Tohru and Kyo: Like a Fine Wine
Her hands have sunspots now, though he loves them, still running his thumb across her skin with soft, firm strokes. His hair is more grey than orange, but she will still run her trembling fingers through it with tenderness.
Mostly they sit on the back porch in their free time, enjoying the landscape, the faint sounds of dogs barking and children's laughter. Occasionally their children and grandchildren visit, filling the house with noise and joy. Tohru will cook large meals and Kyo will frown sternly at the kids before being tugged into a game of tag or hide-and-seek. His body can't do as much now, so before long Tohru will come and rescue him with the tantalizing offer of snacks and lemonade.
In the morning he will roll over and wrap his arms around her.
"This will never get old," he whispers.
"No, it won't," she agrees.
Love never does.