A/N: Imagining Shigure and Akito's life together post-curse is an interesting task. It's not that I don't think they can be happy, quite the opposite... but for Akito especially, I don't think her past will ever truly leave her. When you think about it, she's really quite a weak person, mostly due to her situation and dependency. I think being with Shigure gives her more confidence, but it's not constant. She couldn't live without him. Luckily, Shigure's devoted enough to her to handle that pressure with ease, but I'm not sure Akito can always handle it.

Hence this story. I think she might be most likely to relapse when Shigure's not around - it's a good thing he usually works from home. I didn't explain this in the story, but he's coming home from one of the rare occasions when he had to leave for his work - publisher's office, meet-and-greet, what have you. Anyway, please enjoy and please review!

Words: 753
Characters:
Shigure, Akito
Time:
Post-manga
Genre:
Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to Takaya Natsuki, not me.


"Akito?"

The house was oddly quiet. Not that it was ever usually particularly loud, with just the two of them living there, but something was different tonight. None of the lights had been turned on, though the sun had set half an hour ago. There were no soft footsteps coming to greet him, no laundry swirling in the washing machine, no rice cooker beeping and steaming. Shigure set his briefcase down on the table and stuck a finger through his tie to loosen it.

"Akito?" he called again. Silence.

A dull fear settled in his chest as he walked upstairs. He knew Akito well enough to be worried. She was a creature of habit. She didn't nap at odd hours, she didn't forget things, she didn't miss the opportunity to shorten the amount of time she had to spend alone.

One light was on in the hallway ahead. The bathroom. His mind blank, Shigure ran, skidding around the door. The first thing he saw was a bit of his own wide-eyed, splintered reflection staring back at him from the bare remnants of a shattered mirror. He glanced down.

Akito lay curled on the floor. Blood bloomed on her palms and dripped down her pale arms like paint in the rain. Shards of mirror surrounded her, flashing at him, vibrant images of red against white. Akito's hair, which had grown past her shoulders, was ragged.

"Akito!"

Dropping to his knees, Shigure gathered her in his arms as gently as he could and cradled her bleeding hands. Her knuckles were bruised and bloody, too. Suddenly her eyes flashed wide open, staring at him, and in a rush of dread Shigure realized that he knew that look in her eyes, that look that he hadn't seen for ages.

"You!" she screamed, flailing. "No! You – and her – get away from me!"

Her hurt hands clawed at his face, his clothes; he felt her blood warm on his skin. Still he held her tight, despite her resistance.

"It's all right, Akito," he said as calmly as he could. "It's all right. Shh. Calm down, calm down, you're all right."

She screamed and struggled for at least a minute. It took all of Shigure's strength to hold her securely and keep murmuring soothing words, wondering if, where she was, she could even hear him. But at last she began to still. Her eyes found his; Shigure relaxed his grip around her body. He even attempted a gentle smile as he swept her tattered hair away from her forehead.

"Shigure," she said weakly, her arm rising. Carefully Shigure brushed his fingers against hers, scared he would hurt her broken hand.

"I'm here."

"Why?" Her voice trembled, her face contorted with tears. "She's haunting me, Shigure, I can't… I can't…"

Her head fell onto his chest. Shigure rubbed her back in smooth circles. "Ren?" he said quietly.

He felt her nod. "I saw her," she whispered. "I glanced at the mirror… at me… my hair was long… and I thought it was her."

Shigure could see it happening as clearly as if it were a memory. A scream, a fist to the glass. Ren's face was still glaring at her from the shards, so she grasped a splinter of glass in her palm, began to hack at her black hair… and then, when she could hold the shard no longer, she could only crumble, helpless with fear and fury.

"I'm sorry," she cried, looking up at him. "I'm sorry… I made such a mess… When you're not here, I forget… I remember…"

Cupping her cheek, Shigure kissed her tenderly. "I'm here now. No need to worry. Come on, let's get you cleaned up. And your hair… I like your hair short."

They rose together, his arm supporting her round the waist. They walked downstairs in silence. The Akito beside him now was so different than the Akito of a few moments ago, a few years ago. Yet her past was still a part of her, Shigure knew, a part that emerged unexpectedly at even the slightest trigger. It would never truly disappear.

Some things will never change, he thought as he wrapped her hands in bandages. His gaze continued to flicker to her beautiful face. Beautiful even with tired red eyes, damp skin, and torn hair.

After all… I am as bound to her as I ever was.