A/N: Just for reference: this is OTHER P.Fishie: as in the one that still has to update "Stay Beautiful". I know I'm taking forever, I'm sorry! But in the meantime enjoy this oneshot I randomly came up with a few weeks ago.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Fruits Basket.
…Packs…
"Heads up!" Came a piercing cry as a standard-sized football veered violently off-course and barreled in an awkward spiral towards an unsuspecting group of Sohmas, headed by a very energetic Tohru Honda. Hatsuharu glanced up at the great leather thing and ducked out of the way as if he'd been expecting it all along, while soon after Yuki Sohma was dodging the ball in a fashion that was clearly more unplanned and awkward. The ball whizzed by Kyo Sohma's head in a blur; had it been traveling several inches lower it would have struck Momiji- for Kyo had taken the smaller boy into a very cozy headlock. Finally the football struck the ground feet away, bouncing several feet in the air before settling in the grass.
"Hey, man, over here!" Called a tall, blond-haired boy detached from a group playing tackle football. Kyo's face quickly flooded with color as he instantly forgot about his tiff with Momiji (it wasn't rare for Kyo to find some reason to want to hurt Momiji- their personalities being what they were) as he dropped the boy's head and shouted in pent-up frustration at the boy, who looked as though he cared less about what Kyo had to say than he did about getting his team's ball back. Yuki, of course, was quick to oblige the boy, jogging after the ball and gracefully throwing it back with a proper spin to its flight. The boy raised a hand in thanks and quickly returned to his game.
It wasn't often that the Sohma clan could be found out in public at times of popular recreation, much less in large numbers. However, on one of his fanatical whims for which he was particularly infamous, Shigure had urged the group into the public that sweet summer evening for the free concert taking place at a park close by. Naturally, the only truly joyful reactions came from Tohru and Momiji, and while Yuki and Haru remained peacefully open to the idea, Kyo was quick to dig his heels in at the prospect, loudly and stubbornly refusing to take part in what he referred to as a "pointless waste of time and energy, and anyway, there is no way in hell I am spending any time sharing iced tea and sandwiches with that damn Yuki". Tohru, however, could not be swayed, for she'd taken immediately to the idea, and eventually she'd been able to wear him down and convince him to go. She had ways of making Kyo change his mind that Haru figured he'd never understand.
Anyway, so here he was, caught in the middle ground between the ever-chipper duo of Tohru and Momiji and the sourness of Kyo. Yuki, at least, seemed to be enjoying himself.
"Ah, Yuki!!" Came a cry that sounded much more like a cheer. The group turned to find just the group they were looking for, and in just the fashion they expected to find them. Shigure was sprawled luxuriously across an old blanket while Ayame joined him in an ecstatic wave (that was more a cross between a game of charades gone bad and a horrifying attempt at reviving the dance moves of the 60's) from a lawn chair. Meanwhile Hatori, seated in a lawn chair a safe distance from Ayame's, tried to look like he was not at all associated with them. The group of teens made their way over and spread their respective blankets out surrounding Shigure's.
"Oh, isn't this perfect!!" Shigure swooned as the group sat down. He had long forgotten his attempt to finish his latest manuscript; the sorry thing was sprawled, neglected, all over his blanket. Shigure was now sitting up and clapping. "It's such a perfect evening for a picnic, wouldn't you say?"
"Too true!" Chirped Ayame. "The sun is just setting over the horizon, the sweet scent of early summer is lofting on the wind's able back through the lush leaves of the trees," He took a deep whiff of said scent and gave a melodramatic sigh. "Ah, 'tis the perfect evening for the innocent blooming of summer lo-"
At this several in the group took the opportunity to make themselves scarce: Yuki by practically dragging Tohru off to find some ice cream, Hatori by burying his nose into his book, and Kyo by obnoxiously shoving the earphones to his MP3 player into his ears and turning the volume up to blasting. Haru merely watched their attempts to flee Yuki's brother's awkward comments with amusement, already enjoying himself despite his initial suspicion. Momiji took to cheering loudly for a game of soccer, which was taking place in an area off to the side of the thousands of blankets and lawn chairs facing the huge, outdoor amphitheater. Ayame seemed quite put out by the poor reception of his flouncing, however, he and Shigure were quickly back in conversation over their regard towards the reputation of the band playing that night.
As they waited for Yuki and Tohru's return, Haru took to gazing quietly around the scenic area. He let his thoughts wonder freely, roaming over everything and nothing at all. Molling over the events of recent importance, over previous thoughts that hadn't made much sense to think but he had thought them anyway. Why it was he spent so much time thinking, and what thoughts he was hoping would come up, if he had hoped for specific thoughts to come up while he was thinking. Why he spent so much time thinking when much of the time he spent while he was thinking, he was spending it on thinking about thinking and how thought could become so fickle when thinking about thoughts that lead to thinking about thinking.
And of course, like what many times happened when he let his thoughts think, Haru's thoughts turned to Rin. Where she was and what she was doing not so much as what she was thinking, how she was feeling. If she'd meant the things she'd said to him, or if that look in her eyes he'd always been able to see was still somewhere buried in the hatred and regret, beneath the cold, resentful surface of her pitch black irises. If he'd been right that day when he'd found her in the woods with Yuki, if that look that flashed into her eyes, that brief and shining weakness in her unshakable façade, was merely that: a fleeting moment in time that would never grow to be anything else, or if it was a quiet plea with him to release her from the shackles in which she continued to imprison herself. If it was possible to free her from the guilt and pain that daily forced her own retreat into herself. And if it was within the comprehendible cosmos to catch that running horse and tear the chain from its neck.
"Oo, nice eye, Haru." Suddenly Shigure's slick voice was pulling Haru from his thoughts. Without realizing it, Hatsuharu had unintentionally allowed his eyes to rest on a chattering crowd of young girls, who were all giggling and risking glances his way from the blanket in a row yards ahead of them. Haru blinked, then glanced at Shigure, who was fixing him with a look of sly suspicion.
"What?" He asked rather stupidly, though it came out as more of a statement than anything.
"They're not bad to look at if I do say so myself. And it does look as though they're interested, doesn't it?" He commented as a wave of giggles swept the foursome. Haru glanced at the girls, then back at Shigure, cocking an eyebrow. Now Momiji jumped in, leaping up behind Haru and pushing himself up on Haru's shoulders to have a look.
"Oo, Haru has a crush? Where where I wanna see!!"
Haru froze for a minute, then closed his eyes, shaking his head as he shrugged Momiji's hands from his shoulders. The boy's hands slipped clumsily and he fell to the ground, twitching a bit.
Before Haru knew it Shigure was by his side and gazing in that direction as well. "Well, if you're going to stare you ought to go and meet a couple of them. Who knows, one might be serious about finding some dinner somewhere…"
"Oh, but Gure!!" Howled Ayame suddenly. "You've forgotten already the incredible arduousness associated with separating a girl from her primal habitat!"
Haru's eyebrows shot up, partially disgusted at the two males' obnoxious display of their apparent infatuation with the dating world all the while partially intrigued.
"Primal habitat. Ayame-san?" Cooed Momiji in quiet interest, his head also cocked to the side in confusion.
"Of course!" The older man cried, jumping up with a picture-perfect swing of his knee-length white hair. "It is the female's primal instinct to be perpetually surrounded by others of her gender of species!"
"Right you are!" Chimed Shigure. "It's true! Women always travel in packs!"
This time Haru and Momiji exchanged their questioning looks. "Packs?" Haru finally repeated.
"Naturally!" Shigure confirmed, nodding his head. "That's why it's so difficult to court just one. It's how they protect themselves from being asked out by someone they have no desire to deal with!"
"How does traveling in a pack affect which boy they talk to?" Momiji asked, puzzled.
"Well you tell me, would you rather ask a girl when she's by herself, away from possibly-disproving eyes, or would you just as easily walk up to a group of giggling girls, each set of eyes bearing into you, sizing you up, having to worry about impressing every single one of them when you merely wish to court one?"
Momiji's eyes narrowed as he seriously considered this. "Hey you're right! I never thought of it that way!"
"See?" Shigure said excitedly. "It's no accident they travel in packs, my friend, it's how they plan it!"
"Oh, curse the perfectly-constructed defense mechanism of the female species!" Cried Ayame dramatically.
At this point Yuki and Tohru returned from the ice cream stand across the meadow, fondly nibbling at cones of their respectively chosen flavors. They came within earshot about the time Ayame was finished flashily condemning the styles of the feminine defense. Yuki, now, glanced at Haru, who merely shrugged, apathetic.
"What are you on about, Ayame?" He groaned, sitting down near Haru.
"Only the scourge on the male species that is its feminine counterpart!" His brother wailed, placing a hand over his brow in distress of the very thought. Yuki looked to Shigure for a translation.
"We're discussing the difficult habits of ladies and girls alike." He simplified, finally shutting his manuscript as it became clear he would not finish it during that outing.
"Oh." Yuki rolled his eyes, knowing better than to ask. Tohru, however, as usual, was hooked.
"What kind of habits?" Asked Tohru, intrigued.
"Namely," Ayame gave cinematic swish of his locks. "Their method of defense and how it takes every aspiring boy who goes weak at the knees at the sight of her beauty and renders him completely and utterly helpless."
"Ayame-san says that girls always travel in packs." Momiji chirped to Tohru, singing the conclusion like a first grader eager to share what he'd learned that day.
"Well it's true of anything these days, isn't it?" Shigure yawned as if he'd known the conclusions of their conversation for years. "It's natural for a lot of things to come in packs."
"It's true!" Ayame realized aloud. "Sodas, flowers, pens, paper, toothbrushes…"
"Batteries, candles, light bulbs…" Shigure added.
"And crayons!" Cheered Momiji.
"And cordless phones always come in twosomes, too!" Tohru pointed out (of course, only Tohru would think to use cordless phones as an example in a situation like this).
"You see!" Shigure exclaimed. "It's impossible to isolate anything these days!"
"Hear, hear!" Ayame acclaimed, clenching his fist climactically. "I do believe we, friends, have discovered a very key concept in the philosophical buildup of our beloved-"
At this Yuki had endured his maximum capacity from his brother and took the opportunity to shove his spoon into Ayame's wide-open mouth, causing the man to choke (on both his words and the plastic) in mid-sentence. Now Yuki took his seat again and glanced moodily at Haru, who could only smile in shear amusement in reply.
"He simply can't help himself can he?" The gray-haired boy sighed tiredly, leaning back onto his hands. He puffed out a breath and eyed Haru sideways. "He's right, though. Girls do travel in packs." With that he laid down and rested his head on his arm.
Again the same hostile face surrounded by wave upon wave of unrestrained jet black hair materialized with perfect detail in Haru's mind. Then he watched those tortured, terrified eyes turn to a blur in his vision, running, fleeing, flying free of anyone's rules or expectations. Never were they subject to the social pressures that shaped the very core of the girls still giggling over him yards away. They were simply… alone.
"Well," Haru finally shrugged to himself as the musicians trooped onstage to the cheering of the crowd, and the image of the girl with those dark, mysterious eyes dissolved from his mind's eye. "Not all girls."