"You seem to be – how should I put it – otherwise occupied, today," Hana nodded at Tohru's chopsticks, meandering over an untouched lunchbox.
"Mm. Hm? Sorry! What?"
"You haven't been as focused as you usually are, Tohru."
"Not that she ever is that focused, really, banging into doors all the time – even when we try to open them out of her way," added Uo.
"True. But there seems to be something… different."
"Oh? Umm, you think?"
"Is there something on your mind, Tohru?"
"No? Not really, I guess, well, nothing more than the usual stuff, like how school is hard and there's that maths test coming up –" Hana and Uo exchanged looks as Tohru let loose an unfiltered stream of thought, accompanied by hand gestures with little relevance and too much enthusiasm, "– and then it turned out that we shouldn't have eaten the stew after all, because Shigure felt ill afterwards and kept asking me to tuck him into bed, but when I called Hatori he said that no one in the world could ever cure Shigure of his sickness, so I hope it's nothing too serious..."
"The novelist, you say? Mmm. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried something, with electric waves such as his," Hana's eyes sparked as she bit into an onigiri.
"Nah, I bet something happened with the Prince. Something those crazy fan girls wouldn't want to know, hah!"
"No, no!" Tohru threw her arms about in a ridiculous attempt to shut them up, "It's not like that!"
"Oh, so both, then?" Uo smirked, "Man, Tohru, I never thought you'd be the type to go for that!"
"No. Nor, for that matter, is the Prince. Normally. However," Hana drawled, "Words can be very persuasive when one is crafty and well-equipped…"
"No! Wait, what are we talking about?"
"Or… is it something else entirely? "Hana's voice lowered as she gazed into Tohru's eyes.
At that moment, Kyo happened to enter the room. Avoiding them, he strolled towards a desk at the back, hands in pockets, eyes glazed. A chair creaked before he reached the window.
"Hey, carrot top! You up for losing another game, cat-lover?" Uo taunted, brandishing a deck of cards and throwing it down like a gauntlet.
"Oh, be quiet! And it's not as if I even like cats! It's not my fault if they just find me all the damned time –"
"N'aww, poor little Kyon-kyon's upset!"
"Oy! Don't call me Kyon-kyon, you Yankee!"
"Oh, Kyon-Kyon," she grinned, "That almost hurt!"
"Okay, it's on!" he shouted, slapping the desktop. "It is so on!"
"Oooh, I'm shaking in my big black boots! Bring it on then, orangeball!"
"Excuse me Miss, I don't believe that is regulation footwear –"
After two swift punches to the same bespectacled face, the two blazed into a game of Rich Man, Poor Man. Tohru made no move to join them – not even to umpire the bickering that grew more violent with each hand – but remained in her seat, suddenly crimson.
"Or someone else..."
Tohru's head jerked to her side. Hana smiled back and sipped her miso.
…
The sun fell and rose, and sometime thereafter Kyo took a small step out of his room. He had chosen the perfect moment. The weekend had just begun, and Shigure had gone to bond with Ayame, whatever shenanigans that might involve. Meanwhile, Yuki had left mysteriously – trying to be discrete, providing twenty minutes of entertainment for Shigure – to what he claimed to be a 'secret base'.
'Secret base my furry butt. Probably gone to get a manicure.' But Kyo's smirk vanished as he found himself in sight of the hallowed door, his confidence waning with each erratic breath. With his pesky housemates gone, and all other unwanted interrupters back at the Sohma house – where they belonged, in Kyo's opinion – there was no one left but Tohru. They were alone.
His heart tried to pound its way out of his stomach. One foot lifted slightly, slowly, and pulled him another step closer to her door – thump thump, thumpity thump – another step, and yet another, until self-doubt clambered onto his back, heavy and ridiculous.
'What if Yuki has charmed her and they've run off together?'
Thump thump.
'What if Shigure snuck back in and into her bed like the dog he is?'
Thump thump. Step.
'What if it's Haru in there with her, and he's gone Black again?'
Don't forget to breathe. Step.
'What if Akito finds out? What if he makes Hatori erase all her memories?'
There was the door now. He had to push on.
'What if they hurt her?'
A trembling hand – a weakness he thought had been trained out of his system by now – reached for the doorknob.
'What if I can't do anything about it? What if she hates me?'
The doorknob turned, and his heart threatened to burst forth like a machine gun.
'What if just I'm destined to be alone?'
Like the man left on the sinking ship after the last of the life boats have pulled away, with little hope for the present and even less for the future, Kyo yanked the door wide open.
Tohru's room.
Empty.
It took a moment for the heat to colour his face.
'What if she's not there, you damned idiot!'
...
He found her, not long after, on her knees – dusting! – next to the dining table. That is how she had been spending her Saturday so far, because she lived in a house full of lazy, dirty, and dirtier men – boys, really.
"Hell! Do you ever quit?" It came out louder than he had intended. Truth be told, he hadn't planned on saying that at all – nor anything else, for that matter, until he had gotten a better grip on his hectic heart.
Startled, Tohru stood, spun, then fell down again – tripping over the dust cloth that she had dropped as she stood up, which had gotten tangled around her ankles when she had spun around – and to finish it all, after bumping her head on the table, her foot kicked a cup (unfortunately half full of tea) during her bewildered attempt to get up again, sending the cup flying through the sliding door and leaving puddles and a gaping hole, through which the cup had disappeared guilt-free.
'Perfect. Just freaking perfect.' Kyo grimaced.
"Oh my god! I'm sorry! I am so sorry! I'll clean it all up again, I promise!" The babbling Tohru looked up at Kyo and grew quiet.
Thu…ump? Thumpthumpthump.
"Don't worry about it," he replied gruffly, avoiding her eyes. He held out his hand, and she didn't hesitate.
"Thank –"
And down they went, right smack into the middle of a particularly large puddle, thanks to the mischievous dust cloth that had managed to wrap itself around Tohru's foot once more.
POOF!
The only thing damper than Tohru's hair was the bristling orange cat beside her.
"Sorry," she whispered.
"Not your fault. You shouldn't be cleaning on the weekend. You deserve a break." The cat shut his eyes, "You deserve better."
"Hmm?"
"Nothing."
"Oh, okay," Tohru looked down at the floor.
For some time there was silence. Then a smile, followed by the sort of laugh that is politely trying to suppress a fit of giggles.
"Eh?" Kyo looked up, brow furrowed.
"I just – ahah – well, I think it's a bit funny when you think about it."
"Um, what?"
"This!" She laughed again, freely now, "Everything smells like that tea! The floor, you – even my hair!"
Kyo gently placed a paw on her knee and leaned forward, his feline nose searching.
"It smells… nice."
Truth. Underneath the smoky tea – he didn't quite recognise it – he could still smell that lovely aroma that cradled his face in his dreams, and tugged at his heart in the dark. And now they were inches apart.
Tohru's laughter stopped then. She was trapped between breaths. Even in his cat form, Tohru could still see him, for all he was. The Kyo who had come smashing through the roof and into her life, the Kyo who had brought her back home safe – the Kyo who tried.
"Tohru…"
"Ooh-hoo, Kyo's got the hots! Kyo's got the hots!" chirped a rabbit-boy through the gap in the door. The cat roared and pounced in fury.
"God! Shut up, shut up!"
"Waaaah!" He tried to wriggle away from Kyo, who had scrambled up his chest, teeth bared, "Kyo's picking on me again!"
The door slid open, to Momiji's distress, and Hatori sighed with it.
"Kyo. Tohru. Nice to see you again. Momiji – inside voice, please."
Kyo muttered something like 'later' and 'annihilate', and leapt off Momiji's head to land neatly on the wooden floor, steering away from another puddle. Grinning, Momiji clambered after him. With a surge of compulsive politeness, Tohru scrambled onto her feet (successfully, this time) and opened her mouth to greet the guests properly – only to be interrupted by a dramatic wail outside.
"Ohh! My poor, poor house! What have I done to deserve such cruel treatment of my precious abode, which I share so graciously with hooligans that dare to call themselves men!" Those who knew him well could hear the glint in his eye as his tone changed, "And sweet Tohru!"
Shigure entered, possibly with a hint of genuine concern hidden – deep, deep down – underneath the mask of theatrical desolation. There was a noticeable bump on the side of his head, and in one hand he held a familiar cup.
"What the hell are you doing here?" spat Kyo, glaring up at him.
"Hello to you too, you wet kitty-cat. Momiji, did you have a hand in that? I'm sure, haha! Oh Ha'ri, always a pleasure to be in your, ahaha, presence." He winked at Hatori's lack of amusement, "And dear Tohru, of course."
"Welcome home! Oh, you weren't gone very long. Did something go wrong?"
"No, no." Shigure waved the matter away with a flourish, "Simply a slight change of plans."
Pause.
"What on earth is that strange odour that has settled itself upon my once-sweet-smelling dwelling?"