Chapter One: Red
Title: Mirrors of the Past
Summary: To keep it short...a sad, angst-filled account of the regal and confident Ayame Sohma's early life.
Warnings: Violence and angst, as well as a wirty derd (XD).
Disclaimer: I don't own Ayame (aww...) or Fruits Basket. They belong to Natsuki Takaya. Ooh! But I do own an Ayame plushie and a basket of fruits!
Chapter Notes: This chappy is mildly depressing...sorry, for those who dislike angst! Although I'm sure I made it clear that this was to be an angsty story from the beginning.... Anyways, Aaya, who is seven years old, is pretty much receiving some harsh treatment from his mom (who, if you haven't read the manga, is quite the beyotch). Also, I forgot to mention that Inkweaver2 is the one who gave me the idea for the title! Thanks, Inkweaver-chan! (hugs) I'd also like to thank Evil-Ai for his/her earlier suggestion for Ayame's mother's name, Hitomi. Thank you so much! And the quote below is from volume 13 of the manga. Enjoy!
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Against her...words are meaningless. They're powerless. She won't let them reach her, and then...they die.
~ Yuki Sohma
*****
As dark clouds obscured the sun and its radiant light, an icy breeze whistled loudly over the rumble of thunder in the distance. There wasn't a soul foolish enough to step outdoors in this weather; even the birds, squirrels, and insects that normally busied about at this time of day had chosen to stay tucked away in their homes and outwait the storm that was soon to strike. Aside from the howling wind that wound its path wherever it chose to, the outdoors became deathly quiet and the atmosphere remained still, as if they were awaiting something terrible.
It wasn't long before silver raindrops began to fall, making a soft pattering sound that was drowned out by the noisy gusts of wind. The rainfall started off as a light drizzle, but became a powerful storm that drenched the earth beneath within a few minutes. Heavy torrents of rain loudly pounded the roof of the small house and the windowpanes, joining with the loud claps of thunder to evolve into one of Earth's mysterious symphonies of nature.
A flowerpot that had been resting on the porch was suddenly knocked over by an onslaught of wind. Soil, pieces of clay, and the remains of the red roses lay in disarray on the porch and caused the household's only spectator of the strong downpour to flinch at the noise that resounded.
The seven-year-old child gazing out the window shuddered once more as a loud roll of thunder echoed through the sky, followed by a long neon-purple streak of lightning that cracked the dark sky and lit up the lawn for a brief second. When the lightning subsided, he exhaled quietly with relief and sank down to the floor.
The boy rested his head on his knees as he wrapped his thin arms around his legs. He had silky hair as silver as moonlight that reached to the tips of his tiny shoulders, and ivory skin that accented his large, luminous golden eyes perfectly. Clad snugly in a red turtleneck sweater and black pants, he twirled a lock of his silver hair around his finger as the sound of the rain hitting the roof and windows began to soothe him.
"Ayame!"
Ayame Sohma's drowsy eyelids snapped open when he heard his name being called. Surprised, he lifted his head up and turned towards the open doorway that led into the kitchen as the slender figure of a woman blocked the entrance. She made her way over to where he was sitting, her menacing and heavy footsteps getting closer.
The shadow of his mother, Hitomi Sohma, fell over the frozen boy as she crossed her arms and gave her son a cold and hateful look. The bitter expression within her icy blue eyes sent a violent shiver down Ayame's spine as he felt the narrowed orbs staring intensely into his frightened golden ones.
"Y-yes, Mother?" he spoke in a voice that was so small and quiet that it was barely audible. The frightening sensation he received from feeling his mother's cold eyes gazing into him was so overwhelming that he was forced to gaze downwards, immediately becoming aware of the fact that his small hands were trembling. His uneasiness grew when Hitomi leaned towards him to the point where the two were eye-level, which was far too close for his personal comfort.
"What do you think you're doing sitting here in front of the door like this?" she inquired, irritation heavily evident in her voice as she spoke. "I'm already late for an urgent meeting downtown, and the last thing I need is for you to be in my way!"
Ayame immediately lowered his head. His bangs gently fell over his golden eyes and concealed a shadow of fear towards the woman who loomed over him. Unable to glance upwards, he awkwardly stood up and stepped out of Hitomi's way.
"...I'm sorry...."
Without warning, his mother's hand, which had once been clenched into a fist at her side, flew up in a flash, smacking Ayame across the face with such force that the fragile child hit the floor with a thud.
As his head made contact with the wooden floorboards, he winced in pain, but he didn't cry. Even though he could feel the tears that suddenly burned behind his golden irises, he didn't dare cry in front of his mother, no matter how much he wanted to. He had learned quickly from his past experiences that even the slightest trace of tears would just make things worse.
"Why do you always talk so damn quietly? It drives me crazy!" yelled Hitomi as she glared at the trembling boy. Ayame now sported a red hand-shaped mark on the left side of his face, and his silver tresses, as well as his hands, were stained with the faintest trace of a crimson liquid that began to run down the side of his face in a thin stream.
He quickly turned his gaze towards the floor, for the tears that had been trapped behind two sun-colored prisons had released themselves. One fell on his hand, and his eyes widened, for his trembling hands were in full view of Hitomi's eyes. Fortunately, she didn't notice, for his silver hair had formed what resembled a curtain over his face as he gazed down at the floor. Hastily wiping them away with his sleeve and rubbing his eyes, he made a move to get to his feet, but his unsteady knees gave out, causing him to collapse.
Ayame's humiliation grew when he noticed that the angered expression on his mother's face had faded to one of amusement as she watched him tremble before her. "What's the matter? Don't have enough strength to get yourself up off the floor?"
The silver-haired boy gave her no reply as he continued to stare down at the floor, his eyes misty as the words hit him and echoed in his mind. Emotions of sadness, humiliation, and self-pity ran through his body as he clenched his fists tightly, knowing that Hitomi's words had rendered him completely helpless.
No...I don't....
After a moment's time, he slowly gazed upwards, and the expression upon Hitomi's face told him that she wasn't finished with him yet. As the bitterly-amused smirk faded to its usual scowl, she bent down to Ayame's eye level and grabbed his chin, making him gasp loudly in surprise as he was forced to look into her glowering blue eyes.
"Now, listen to me, snake," she hissed sharply. "That meeting can't wait any longer than it already has. If I have to put up with any more trouble from you in the next five minutes, you're in for some serious punishment when I get back if I have to listen to them nag at me for being late! Do you understand?" she asked harshly, her icy blue eyes narrowing into slits.
Ayame's frightened golden eyes widened as her hand trailed up his smooth ivory-skinned cheek and stopped at the top of his head. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words didn't come. Confused and frightened, he blinked once, twice, then three times before all that escaped his throat was a timid shuddering breath.
...What happened? Where's my voice? he thought in a panicked manner as his breaths quickened. Where did it go?
He didn't have time to react as his mother, who had become quite infuriated due to his lack of an answer, angrily grabbed a fistful of his long silver hair and pushed him down into the floor, causing him to cry out in pain as her grip tightened.
"Answer me, Ayame," she growled through clenched teeth, ready to strike again if her son failed to do as she told him.
Ayame, frightened of getting himself into any more trouble, managed to squeak out, "Y-yes, Mother! I understand!" before a sob quickly escaped him. His immediate reaction was to clamp his hand over his mouth and hope with all his well-being that Hitomi didn't notice.
She didn't. Rather, she muttered irritably, "Thank God. It's about time you understood." Her grip soon relaxed on her son's hair and allowed him sit up on his knees, obviously fed up with the little snake and how late she was going to be for her meeting. "I shouldn't have to spell it out for you every single time."
Ayame quickly looked up as her hand struck him across the face once more, causing him to fall backwards and hit the side of his head on the nearby staircase. Almost instantly, an unwanted metallic taste filled his mouth, and his head dipped forward and let the crimson liquid fall into his hands as bitter resentment started to flow through his veins.
The sound of the door slamming reached his ears as he slowly reached for the railing of the stairs, wincing as pain shot through his small body. His stifled breathing and the hurt coursing through him whenever he moved made the task excruciating, but his efforts were soon rewarded. Within a few moments' time, Ayame was standing up once again (thanks to the railing's assistance).
As the events that had just occurred replayed themselves within his head, his golden eyes became cloudy as the anger and hurt began to build up inside him once again. He should've grown used to this treatment by now, but he still found it unbearable. He should've become numb to Hitomi's hateful insults that she often threw at him, but they still struck him painfully. He should've known better than to get himself in trouble and feel her angry wrath, but he always ended up doing something wrong. And he blamed himself for these setbacks.
…Why?
As the word entered his head and quickly disappeared, he felt his eyes sting with the tears that had once more escaped entrapment. Exhaling a shuddering breath, he turned and took a teetering step as he made his way up the dark staircase.
His thoughts absorbed him so heavily that he failed to notice the figure that stood in the entrance to the brightly-lit kitchen, silently watching the silver-haired boy with a saddened look in his dark brown eyes. As the boy's soft footsteps were drowned out by the thunder that rumbled outside, Ayame's father, a tall and lean man with short black hair and glasses, sagged his shoulders when the seven year-old reached the top of the stairs and disappeared down the dark hallway.
Kentaro Sohma couldn't help but feel self-hatred for himself at that moment. On the outside, he was a calm and collected man who was friendly and polite to those around him. But on the inside, he was a raging hurricane of dark emotions that were beyond his control.
Unlike Hitomi, he wasn't as uncaring for the little snake boy. In fact, he fondly speculated Ayame from a distance, observing and deciphering him as he grew with each passing day. Kentaro had always thought of him as a sweet and well-mannered child, despite the fact that his son hardly spoke around either him or his wife. And on the occasions when he did speak face to face with his mother, his voice was so timid and small that he was often yelled at to talk louder.
His memory took him back to last week, when Hitomi had received a phone call from Ayame's teacher at the elementary school he attended.
*****
"God, he is such a problem child! His teacher at school informed me that he doesn't say a word in school and wants to know if something is wrong with him. She also said he doesn't play with any of the children in his class." Setting her cell phone down on the table, she huffed and ran a hand through her long blonde hair. "You'd think he'd be less of a problem at school than that," she muttered. Kentaro simply nodded as his eyes read the front of the newspaper again and again.
*****
...And this is because I won't do anything for him....
Unfortunately, he wasn't given the permission to speak to his son. Shortly after Ayame had been born, a tearful, angry Hitomi had informed him that he was not to acknowledge the boy whatsoever, since she didn't believe a child possessed by a Juunishi spirit deserved the love and attention that a normal human did. Kentaro, who had always been the type of person who was easily manipulated and pushed around, had nodded in understanding. He loved his wife dearly and always wanted to make sure she was appeased, but sadness and guilt nonetheless weaved itself throughout his heart whenever he glanced upon Ayame's face.
And now, he was paying for his decision by being forced to stand and watch as his wife shouted at and hurt their only child. Because of the choice he had made, his son, due to this treatment, had become silent, fearful, and untrusting of the two of them.
…He's like this now… because of me.
His hand instantly flew to his head and he turned, entering the kitchen as he felt a migraine disrupt his thoughts. A migraine seemed to always occur whenever Ayame entered his mind…therefore, he had them quite often.
*****
Ayame laid his hand on the brass doorknob, ignoring the creak that resounded as he pushed the door open and closed it once more. He was flooded by yet more darkness as he entered his bedroom. It barely contained much; there was a nightstand with drawers that contained all his outfits and a lamp on top of it, as well as a large walk-in closet to the right that held several miscellaneous things.
He walked over to a small futon with several sheets and blankets that rested below the window, through which he could see the storm was still raging and wouldn't end any time soon. Blinking tiredly, he let himself fall with a thump into the sheets of the bed that had been his to sleep on since he was born.
He couldn't help but wonder what his face would look like if he held a mirror up to it and gazed at his reflection. The metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth from where Hitomi had hit him, and the sleeves of his red sweater were darker in several places. The side of his face was beginning to bruise, for it hurt painfully when his hand grazed his cheek, and as he ran a hand through his matted silver hair, his fingers jerked, indicating his hair had become tangled and knotted in the events that had occurred earlier.
…Why..? he thought. A tired look appeared upon his doll-like features as his shoulders began to tremble with emotion, though he remained oblivious as his inner turmoil surfaced once more.
"Why...?"
He wasn't even aware he had succumbed to the stress within his body before a loud poof echoed off of the walls of the room, followed by a gray puff of smoke as a tiny white snake curled into a tight ball. Shivering violently underneath the sheets as the wind continued to howl outside his window, pain overtook him, and even the thunder and lightning that cracked through the gray sky failed to stir him.
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Preview: Well...we know a few things for sure. Ayame Sohma is a soft-spoken little boy...and, tragically, prone to abuse from his mother, who is a *suddenly feels hand clamped over her mouth*. Ahem...and his father is a pushover...loser. These revelations are saddening and despicable...but how does little Ayame see his life, exactly? Find out within the next chapter!