Delicate Ice
By Maria Szabo
Disclaimer: The characters of Fruits Basket are not my property. This is a work of fanfiction and the only profit being made is that of enjoyment.
Kureno rose early, with the dawn, and left Akito sleeping, her robe askew, her hair dishevelled, her body bruised from last night's passion.
Her passion, really. She sought, he gave. That was the way of things. Far it be from him to deny the will of God.
She did not stir as he dressed himself, quickly, for autumn was seeping into winter and the main house was old and did not have central heating. She did not even wake when he bent down to the futon and arranged the blankets about her thin, delicate figure. She whispered then, someone else's name. It didn't matter. For all of that, he could not wish her ill. That, too, was the way of things.
His footsteps were muffled on the tatami mats as he headed towards the door. He hesitated, and looked back at her for a moment. Only then, it seemed, was she at peace. He then slid the door open and stepped onto the cool wooden floor of the hallway.
If he cut through the garden, he would remain unnoticed. He slipped outside and stood still in wonder. The trees, the stones, the scattered leaves, all were laced with ice.
"Hoarfrost," said a voice, as cold as snow. Hatori, cursed with the dragon, came out on his porch, the smoke from his breath and his cigarette blending in the cold air. "Early this year." He gave Kureno a knowing glance.
He gave no answer. He could not. Akito had been quite clear about his silence. But there were so many things he wanted to say... Instead, he bowed his head and made his way back to his own house at the end of the garden.
Hoarfrost, thought Kureno. It reminds me of my heart.
--Fin
