Author's Note: My apologies for the late update. I had the chapter written, but it was locked in my brick of a laptop. Everything's fine now, though, and no Fruits Basket characters were harmed in the excavation of my computer files. I've tried to make up for my tardiness with an extra-long chapter, and finally some Kyo and Tohru interaction!

Disclaimer: Once again, I own no one I'm writing about. Just having some fun in a non-compensated manner.

Chapter Seven: Maybe I'm Out of My Mind

The next morning brought new insights and new rage for Kyo as light filtered in the windows. It was still early by the paleness of the sunlight, and Tohru was still sleeping soundly. Kyo propped himself up on his elbow, slightly stiff from drifting in and out of sleep in awkward positions all night. Just as he was getting comfortable he would jerk himself awake, afraid of falling into too deep a sleep this close to Tohru. He wasn't sure how much she remembered, and didn't want to shock her by transforming too soon.

He studied her as she lie there, more still than he remembered. Tohru's true emotions usually made their way to the surface during her unguarded sleeping moments. She was the most innocent of souls, but she did like to keep her hurts hidden. To see her lying this way was unusual and unsettling. As the light grew brighter, Kyo took it upon himself to study her closely. He knew that if she were awake this kind of scrutiny would make her uncomfortable, so it would have to be finished when she opened her eyes.

The longer he looked, the harder it became to keep his anger suppressed. He knew the reasons that he had been brought in to see Tohru, and they didn't all have to do with her well-being either. This made it that much harder to remain calm, but he did his best. He would have to talk to her today, so he had to be calm enough so he wouldn't have to keep his teeth clamped shut. He doubted that she would speak again since the only thing he had done while in her presence was shush her.

He remembered her in better times when her hair had been much longer and shining. Her eyes sparkled in happiness at the slightest pleasure and her clothes fit her well. Now her cheeks had a shrunken, unhealthy look to them and her eyes seemed sunken as well. Her pajama top was so large on her that it gaped in the back and Kyo could make out all of her vertebrae down her spine. She was so skinny and vulnerable. How could Hatori have watched this descent and done nothing? What was he thinking was so important that he could ruin her life this way?

He tried to distract himself from these thoughts, noticing that his hands were beginning to clench again. Don't be mad, he told himself. You'll hurt her if you're mad. She's already afraid of that. But he couldn't remain in the bed next to her and keep looking at her the way she was. He would have to get up and do something else if he were going to stay in control.

Tohru didn't move as he slipped off the bed and wandered around her prison. It was larger than the neko room, designed for more creature comforts. She had everything she needed here. "Except the will to live," thought Kyo disgustedly as he searched the cupboards and fridge.

As the sun continued to rise and Tohru continued to sleep, Kyo put together some breakfast for them both to eat together when she decided to wake up, though it was a little tricky since there didn't seem to be any knives in the kitchen. He felt horrible about actually waking her, knowing that this rest was the only solace she had left. If only he had been a little faster. How stupid he had been to think that he had time to prepare anything. He should have been more impulsive. How long was she going to have to pay the price for a Sohma's sin?

He didn't have to wait much longer for her. She opened her eyes, but made no other motion. They stared at each other for many minutes, neither one moving. Kyo felt his eye twitch as he gazed at hers. It was definitely unsettling. There was nothing alive there at all.

"Come on," he finally said when he couldn't stand the silence any longer. "It's getting cold."

It was all Kyo could do to keep it together watching her get out of bed. Her pajamas didn't touch her anywhere as she stood up, and she kept her hand on her bedside table for support, seemingly unable to straighten completely. Her movements were those of a much older person or someone who has been ill for a long time. Her eyes scanned the floor as if judging how far it was to the table. Her face was tortured, and Kyo realized that she was torn between doing as he asked and making her body cooperate.

For one second there was a small burst inside his chest. The burst lodged in his throat painfully, and Kyo was overcome. The feelings quickly flashed into white hot fury, but he swallowed all of it all at once and jerked to his feet. Tohru was still standing by her bed when he reached her side. He took her wrist in his hand, wincing inwardly at how papery her skin was and how it seemed he held an eggshell in his palm. She leaned on his arm and together they walked to the table where Kyo set her gently on a chair.

She didn't seem to know what to do next, so he busied himself with the calming motions of pouring her tea and supplying her with rice and fruit. She stared at her plate with such an expression that Kyo almost overflowed her cup as he studied it out. What was that face? Kyo knew that he didn't recognize emotions well, that anger was easiest to process. He knew it wasn't anger on her face, but it wasn't a soft look either.

"Eat," he commanded, clipping the word short so he wouldn't lose his temper yet trying to keep it soft enough that she wouldn't see it as a threat. She breathed deeply, her face darkening. She turned her gaze away from the plate he had set in front of her, the tortured look coming back into her eyes. Kyo puzzled for another moment before realizing what was wrong. She didn't want to eat. The look had been one of disgust, and now she was raging inside herself on which action would cause the most grief, putting something into her mouth or making him angry. Maybe Kazuma hadn't made the right decision in forcing Hatori to bring him here. Obviously his presence wasn't doing much good. Yuki would have been better at this sort of emotional nonsense. Yuki would have known just what to say to make her pick up her chopsticks and take a bite, even just one.

Yeah, well damn Yuki, Kyo thought savagely, clenching his fist around the teapot handle and forcing himself not to slam it down. Yuki wasn't here, was he? And hadn't Kyo already decided that Yuki definitely did not know what was best for Tohru? Hadn't he known, deep down, that all she needed was him? He could do this himself. She would come around, and things would be the same as they always were between them.

He picked up the chopsticks for her and placed them as gently as he could into her hand while trying very hard not to snap them in half. "Tohru, you have to eat." A small drop of a tear landed on her plate, and Kyo looked from her hand to her face to see it streaked with more. She couldn't do it. As stupid as that sounded, it was true. Her entire psyche had crippled into self-destruction. At first, this revelation made him angry, but he forced that emotion down. This was going to be painful for them both, but if he were going to help her at all, they were both going to have to face the most uncomfortable of feelings. He'd watched others do to Tohru what he was going to do to her now, and he remembered how much it made him burn inside. Manipulation was so beneath him, and he knew he wasn't very good at it. But she had to eat.

"Ok, fine," he said, throwing his hands behind his head and leaning away from the table. "If you're not going to eat, then I'm not going to either. Which is really too bad since I'm hungry and all of this is just going to go to waste." She was watching him intently now, fully aware that he was in the room beside her and had not vanished in the darkness. Her lips trembled, but there were no more tears in her eyes. Not being able to stand the stare down, he picked up his own chopsticks, snatched a strawberry off her plate, and offered it to her. Her eyes filled with painful panic, but in the end she closed them and opened her mouth slightly. He awkwardly poked the fruit inside and watched her carefully. For a moment, he was sure she was going to choke on it, but she swallowed quickly and then breathed a sigh. Kyo also breathed again, not realizing he had been holding his breath while she chewed. Suddenly he felt very tired. This was going to take all day.

"So are you going to talk to me, or what?" He finally said as he watched Tohru staring at her folded hands in her lap. "I did come all the way over here just to see you, you know."

She lifted her eyes and bit her lip. Her hands trembled just a little bit, but eventually she said, "You can eat now too."

Relief poured over Kyo like a hot shower. Her voice was the one she used carefully after he'd caught her crying to try and hide her true feelings, but it did sound like her again. Not like the crazy talk she'd been spouting off the night before.

"You're right," he admitted, putting her chopsticks again into her hands. "Why don't you take a few more bites while I make myself a riceball?" Her eyes flecked with panic one more time, but her haggard expression softened after a moment and she accepted the offered utensils.

Watching her eat made it easier for Kyo to breathe. He paused in his own meal from time to time to indulge himself in touching Tohru. The first time he reached out to touch with one finger one strand of her hair it was with such timidity and nerves that he had to reach for his teamug several times instead of actually making contact. But when he did finally manage it, she didn't react to his fingers over her hair or tracing softly down her arm, and for once he knew that if they were to be interrupted, he would have plenty of notice beforehand. When she picked up her teacup in both hands, cradling it gently and closing her eyes to sip it, he almost felt cozy with her at their table together.

Until her sleeve fell back as she drank the last swallow and half of her forearm was exposed. Kyo managed to wait until she replaced her cup before grabbing her hand and pulling it toward him. What happened?

"Ah! Um," Tohru stuttered and tried to drag her hand back, but Kyo had always been much stronger. He took hold of her sleeve and bared her arm past her elbow. It was unclear whether the gasp he heard was his own or still more of Tohru's panicked squeaks, but that hardly mattered. Kyo clamped his teeth tightly together to prevent himself saying something too quickly. Instead, he released her arm so he could take hold of the other to check it in the same way and wasn't too surprised to see similar trauma.

Tohru's perfect white skin had been mauled along both her forearms. And who knew, maybe the horrible, jagged tracks snaked around her entire body. Not all the injuries had been made at the same time either. There were the long white lines of new scars, and wounds that were scabbed over, and one evil looking place where black surgical thread held her together. Unforgiveable.

"Who hurt you?" Kyo demanded, as quietly as he could. As if keeping her imprisoned wasn't bad enough! But who could have done this damage? Who would? "Was it Akito?"

Tohru turned away from Kyo, her face bright red, eyes downcast, and her hands drawn tightly against her body as if to shield herself from something. Who was she trying to protect by not answering?

"It was an accident," she muttered, but Kyo shook his head at her obvious lie.

"This is not an accident," he told her firmly. "And it's been going on for a while. Who was it, Tohru? Did Akito do this to you?" It was common knowledge that the head of the Sohma household was prone to fits of violence, and he had hurt Tohru before. Kyo knew it just had to be him. Of course he would love to take out all his rage on Tohru, who was alone and caged and who no one but Hatori knew about. She was probably his current, favorite toy. The way Yuki had once been.

"No," Tohru continued, still drawn tight into herself. Her voice was very soft, but Kyo was paying close attention. "It wasn't Akito."

"Why are you doing this?" Kyo asked. "You don't have to lie to protect him, Tohru. Look what he's done to you! Look at this." He pulled her sleeve up, inspecting again the brutality done to her body. Tohru, however, would not look. She closed her eyes tightly against the scene, turning her head away.

"Don't worry," Kyo heard himself promise. "I won't let him touch you again." She simply nodded, and Kyo let go of her arm, furious. How dare he do this? What made him think that he had any right to do this to anyone? It wasn't like Tohru was part of the family, not really. It wasn't as though she had anything to do with the curse. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. And what made it even worse was that Hatori had known. The wounds had been treated by him, the professional stitches proved it. Hatori knew that Akito came to torment his prisoner, and he had just allowed it to happen.

But Kyo wasn't going to. Not once. This was all going to stop. No one was going to hurt her again. And as soon as Kyo figured it out, he was going to get her away from his family forever.

He wanted to tell her all of this, to assure her that everything was going to work out. That their days in this darkness would be over soon. She just had to leave everything to him. But before he could figure out exactly how he wanted to comfort her, the lock turned and the door opened.

Hatori and Kazuma entered, both carrying small bags. Hatori went directly to the kitchen counter, efficiently depositing milk and eggs into the small refrigerator. Kazuma knelt on the floor in front of Tohru and Kyo, his eyes soft and worried.

"Well done, Kyo," he congratulated first thing. Kyo wanted to scream. Well done, nothing! He hadn't done anything. The situation was hopeless and messy and there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it. He opened his mouth, but found that there were no words for his thoughts that conveyed just the right amount of disgust.

"I've brought you some clothes," Kazuma continued when Kyo didn't answer. He handed him the bag, and Kyo took it limply. He felt so betrayed. Why was Kazuma going along with this? Tohru had nothing to do with the neko's imprisonment. She shouldn't be here. Especially if she were going to be abused like this. He thought that Kazuma liked her. Why didn't they do anything about it? How did they expect him to fix everything?

While Kyo raged inside his head, Hatori had finished in the kitchen and was standing near Tohru, his hand gently on one shoulder. "How are you this morning, Tohru?" He asked her calmly, like a doctor. Kyo's hands clenched on his knees. How could he ask her that when he knew exactly what had been done to her? How dare he pretend like he cared? "I see Kyo made breakfast for you. Did you eat any of it?" When Tohru did not answer, Hatori turned instead to his cousin. "Did she?"

Kyo glared at him. "What do you care?" He hissed, and Tohru flinched.

"Kyo!" Kazuma warned.

"What?" Kyo shouted, enraged anew. "I can't believe you're on his side. This is so wrong. Hatori, you need to take her out of here."

"Kyo," Kazuma said again, sharply.

"You can't let him do this to her anymore," Kyo was standing now, staring down Hatori. "How can you just let him come in here and hurt her like that? Huh?"

"What are you talking about?" Hatori asked, softly, having the audacity to look confused.

"Don't give me that! Her arms. What did you let that bastard do to her?" Understanding broke over Hatori's features, and he shot a quick glance at Tohru.

"Akito didn't do that," Hatori said, even softer than before. Unexpectedly, his words had the most effect on Tohru. She shrugged Hatori's hand from her shoulder and dashed out of her chair with surprising speed. Caught off guard, the three men didn't stop her before she had made her unsteady way into the bathroom and closed the door tightly behind her.

Hatori spared him one glance that clearly read as, "Now look what you've done," before hurrying after Tohru. He knocked gently on the door. "It's all right, Tohru," he called in to her while Kyo stood near Kazuma in surprise. "No one's upset with you. Please open the door." There was no answer, but Hatori waited another few moments before backing down.

"What's going on?" Kyo whispered to himself as he watched the dragon trying to coax Tohru out of the bathroom.

"Kyo," Kazuma said to draw his attention. "Tohru did that to herself."

"No way," Kyo immediately denied this outrageous claim. That was impossible. Tohru was incapable of that kind of action. She was not destructive. She couldn't hurt anyone. And yet, even though he didn't want to believe, he knew it was true. Hadn't he seen her punishing herself often during their time together, for things that weren't even her fault? For things that weren't under her control? She agonized over everything, wishing so hard that she could save her friends from any discomfort. Pondering continuously over what she could do to make things better. And when she failed, she often brooded despairingly, sometimes to the point where she made herself sick. Now that he was thinking about it with a clear head, it wasn't all that surprising that she would turn to this. Especially here where she was all alone and in the way of Akito's plans. When he thought of the family's head, his hands clenched again. Even if he hadn't physically touched her, it was still very much Akito's fault.

"I'm sorry, Kyo," Hatori was speaking to him now, having moved away from Tohru's closed door. "I should have told you before. We might have been spared this little scene." Kyo found that he was drained by this point. He sat back down in his chair, staring at nothing and feeling almost numb. He'd wondered why there had been no sharp kitchen utensils. He'd never guessed that this would be the reason. The part of his emotions that were still functioning had collapsed into a helpless sorrow. What did they possibly think he was going to do to fix this? There was no way . . .

"It's all right," Hatori continued. "She can't really do a whole lot to herself in there."

"Are you sure, Hatori?" Kazuma interrupted. "She won't try to . . . well, use the bath?"

"No," Hatori shook his head decisively. "She's not suicidal. This is," he paused to sigh, "This is her form of release, an addictive coping mechanism."

"How do you know?" Kyo asked, thinking back to the first night he'd found her after their separation. The look on her face as she stood on the bridge in the snow.

"I don't, not entirely. But she hasn't tried before, and I think it's unlikely for her to do so now. Just keep talking to her, but try to be patient. She needs as much encouragement as you can give her. Did she eat this morning?"

"Huh?" Kyo had to think back to even remember that part of their morning before the whole world shifted so hard. "Um, yeah. Yeah she ate a little bit."

"Then that is progress," Hatori nodded. "We're going to leave for the day," he explained. "It's risky enough for the both of us to come."

"Wait," Kyo said, wondering what he was supposed to do now. He wasn't the right person for this. He was sure to say something wrong, sure to press her away even further than she already was.

"The more people here, the more nervous she is," Hatori said. "I think she'll do best if it's just you with her. Try not to be angry with her for what she's done."

"I'm not angry with her; I'm angry with you."

"That's fine. I'll be back tomorrow morning to check on you."

Kyo couldn't believe that was it. They were just going to lock him back in with Tohru. What good was that? What had Hatori been doing up until now? Bring her fresh milk and stitch her up? No. This had to stop. Kyo went to stand in front of the bathroom door. What should he say? There was so much anger in him that it was hard to think. She was probably upset because she thought they were displeased with her. She hated being a burden to anyone, berating herself for being irresponsible and selfish.

Think, Kyo. Yeah, I know. But I still don't know what to do. Why did she have to do something so stupid? It's not even her fault! It's their fault. Why can't she just get mad at them.

Because that's not who she is. She's a nurturing person who likes to feel needed, who likes to have people who want to be near her. That was part of the reason she had fallen so far to begin with. Akito had stripped her of all social ties. She needs to feel needed. Ok, so how do I make her feel needed?

Kyo put both hands on the door and pressed his forehead against it. Of course he needed Tohru. She was his trust and his hope. The year they had spent apart had damaged them both. She had turned into an empty shell. Kyo had built secure emotional walls. But how could he confess how he felt about her when he knew what would happen in the end? It wasn't fair to her to tell her that kind of truth. It wasn't fair to build on that relationship just to have to tear it up again after the ceremony. He'd have to try something else.

"Hey," he called in to her. "They're, um, they're gone now." There was no sound inside the room, no way to tell if she had even heard. "I think I'm going to do a little training out here now that things have calmed down. Want to watch?" He resisted the urge to slam the door in. "Tohru?" Be patient, Kyo. Who did they think they were kidding? Patience had never been his strength.

"I'll be right here," he said, stepping away from the door and sliding down the wall opposite it, balancing his elbows on his thighs and dropping his head into his hands. He didn't have the answers. He had no words. He had no idea what he was supposed to do.

The only sounds for a long time came from outside. Faint stirrings of doors being closed, children being called in from play, and even fainter still, the sound of cars outside of the compound. From Tohru, there was nothing. Kyo thought about talking to her. He thought of confessing everything. Yet the longer they went without speaking, the harder Kyo found it was to gain any motivation. Not just to speak. He didn't even want to move. They would both sit here on the floor, her behind that lock and him right in front of it, forever separated, forever silent, forever alone.

The way it had to be.

Kyo dozed on the wood, not caring about the time, but his body's stiffness told him that they had been still for a long while, when he finally heard the lock snap open inside the bathroom. Tohru opened it to him shyly, warily. When he saw her face, Kyo leaped to his feet, but his abruptness startled her into slamming the door again with a frightened squawk. Kyo knelt, exhausted, outside, wondering how long it would take her to return. Another hour? Another day?

"Sorry," he croaked, surprised at his voice. This place had such a sedative quality to it. No wonder she had stifled under its oppressive atmosphere. "You can come out now, really. It's safe."

Safe? What did he mean when he said that. How ridiculous. Yet there were her eyes again peeking out from the door. They were flat and distant, but they were focused on him. The door opened all the way, and Tohru knelt on the floor in front of Kyo.

"Hi," he said, having no idea what else he should say.

"Hi," Tohru responded, her hands folded neatly on her lap. At least she was talking, well, sort of talking. But what were they supposed to talk about? Kyo couldn't ask her the hard questions yet. The ones he really wanted to ask. The ones he wanted to scream. What was she thinking? Why had she done that? But he'd already seen where that kind of behavior led. They would have to talk about something else. Something happier.

"I really was going to take you away," he said. "I was going to take you to America." He paused when he heard her sniffle, and discovered that his simple speech had doubled her over in tears.

Something happier, Kyo, damn it. But what?

"Um, so," he started again, awkwardly, wracking his brain for some topic that wouldn't upset her. "Does it get as cold in here as it did where I – " he broke off, surprised, when she lifted her head, tears streaming down her face. She was such a portrait of misery; he couldn't remember what he had been meaning to say.

"Did we graduate?" She asked abruptly, obviously not paying attention to anything he'd been saying. Which was quite a relief since he'd been babbling nearly incoherently.

"Huh?" He said as his mind pivoted around her simple question, turning it around and looking at it again.

"I can't remember," Tohru explained, hugging herself. "I made a promise to my mom. Did I keep it?"

"Oh," Kyo sighed, happy at being given a topic he could talk about. "Yeah, we all graduated. It was last spring," he went on, describing the ceremony. He remembered what she wore, how she had done her hair. Shigure insisted on a party. He even bought ice cream for the event. Her friends were there, Haru and Momiji, Kisa and Hiro, even Hatori and Kagura. It had been a perfect afternoon. When the ice cream was gone, they all stretched out in the yard, talking about their lives, what they wanted to do with them.

Kyo stopped talking, brought up short by the danger in continuing with those particular memories. They'd talked about dreams. They'd talked about goals and plans. They had talked about everything that he wouldn't have. And they had talked about a future that had broken to pieces just days after that most perfect sunset.

Tohru noticed Kyo's shift in mood and also fell into silence. Maybe now was a good time to bring it all up? He had been curious before, but maybe knowing would be good for her, for them both.

"What do you remember, Tohru?" Kyo heard himself ask before he was really sure that he wanted to go there. He knew that she had remembered him, at least a little, because of her cat. She remembered his name. She remembered her promise to her mother.

"I don't know," Tohru confessed, looking uncomfortable but not terrified. "Everything is disorganized. There are so many bits and pieces. I remember the graduation, now that you told me about it, but I can't see Yuki's face anymore. What happened, Kyo? It was so wonderful. What did I do?"

"Nothing!" Kyo hissed, causing Tohru to curl into herself again. "I told you; it's not your fault. It's the curse." How was he supposed to tell her this? He didn't even really know himself. Yuki and Tohru disappeared for the afternoon. It wasn't uncommon, but that night they didn't come home. Shigure was worried, but pretended that he wasn't. Phone calls were made to the Main House. Hatori got involved. Akito was notified. The next thing Kyo remembered, he'd been summoned to the Main House where he and Yuki received stern lectures on obedience and threats as to the outcome of their lives. Then they were marched into Akito's room to watch as Hatori erased Tohru's memories. He'd watched her plead, head bowed, tears pelting the wood floor, and watched Akito sneer with pleasure at her pain. It had been his triumph, this control. Hatori used his power; Tohru collapsed, senseless, to the wood. Everyone was ushered outside, and Tohru was collected to an undisclosed location, far from Yuki and Kyo.

"He didn't tell me we weren't coming back," Tohru murmured, as if she didn't realize she was speaking.

"What?" Kyo said, stopping in his painful recollection of the worst moment in his memory.

"He wanted to show me something in Kyoto," Tohru continued, speaking slowly as if she had to read these memories from a small book buried deep within her brain. "He said we'd take a day trip and come home a little before bedtime. I didn't know he meant to go farther than Kyoto. I didn't know he meant for us not to come back at all, even when he had the suitcase, I didn't even think about it."

Kyo ground his back teeth at this new information. So that's how he'd done it. That's how he'd taken Tohru away without even a farewell. He'd lied. Typical. Selfish. Immature.

"Tohru," he drew her attention to him again, swallowing down the anger her words had stuck in the back of his throat. He didn't want to talk about Yuki anymore. He didn't even want to hear any more of her memories even though it had been his question that started her in the first place. He wanted to speak about the future, not the one they talked about at graduation where he only pretended that he would have one. No, he wanted to talk about a real future, one that he really could have, and preferably a future where neither one of them were on the locked side of a door. "We're going to have to come up with some sort of plan for getting out of here. It won't be long before the family will take me and lock me up somewhere else, away from you and everyone. I don't want that to happen, but before I decide what I'm going to do about anything, I want to know what you want."

"What I want?" Tohru questioned, looking confused.

"Look," Kyo was suddenly uncomfortable. He hated talking about this kind of stuff! If only she weren't so messed up and could fill these uncomfortable pauses with her bright chatter. He traced his finger idly around the wood grain of the floor. "Ever since you got involved with the Sohmas, all we've ever done is assumed that we knew what was best for you. You felt like you needed to ask our permission to do anything and we were always setting new limitations on you."

Kyo looked around at Tohru's cozy prison, hating his family for always thinking they knew best, for always assuming they knew the correct answer for everyone's life. Especially Akito, who made all their decisions. Well, not anymore. They weren't going to get their way this time. He and Tohru were getting out, getting away, where they could make their own decisions, find their own way, and yet before that happened Kyo needed a plan, and he needed to know what Tohru really thought.

"I don't know how many times I need to tell you that you need to start sticking up for yourself," Kyo continued, noticing that Tohru was staring at him in confusion. "I don't think that we should force you to do anything that you don't want, and I don't think that I can pretend that I know what you want." Kyo stopped again before getting to what he really wanted to say. Well, at least what he thought he wanted to say. This wasn't supposed to be so hard.

"What I mean," he began again, taking deep breaths as if this were some new and difficult meditation exercise. "Is that I'm sorry that I never even asked you if you wanted to come with me before. I just went ahead with my plans without ever thinking that what I wanted was what you wanted too. That's not right." She was looking at him so hard now, like the night he met her on the bridge, as if she were having a hard time figuring out who he was. Kyo couldn't stand it. If he hadn't seen her, would Akito have done this to her? If he hadn't walked her home or asked Hatori how to help her find some purpose in her new life, would they be having this conversation? Would she have jumped off the bridge?

"So," Kyo was mumbling now, and he couldn't bring himself to look at Tohru anymore. He stared intently at the pattern the sun was making on Tohru's pajamas. "You should think about where you want to go. This time I want you to decide for yourself what you want to do. I know that's going to be hard for you. You probably haven't done what you wanted in so long, you don't even know what it is. If you want to go with me, that's great, and if you want to go somewhere else, that's great too. Whatever your choice, I'm going to help you to get better and stronger and to escape from here when I do."

"Kyo," Tohru said softly, and he savored the sound of his real name, but he had to interrupt her before she got too far. He knew her too well. He knew what she was going to say.

"I don't think you should answer right now," he told her, his voice gaining strength again. "I want you to think about it. Think about what you want because if you go with me just because you think it's the right thing to do or because you just want to please me then," he stopped himself abruptly. Did he really want to finish? He glanced up again at her, at the wreck that she had become. His heartbeat pulsed painfully once, twice, and he knew that what he was saying was the only way he would ever be at peace when it concerned Tohru.

"I don't want you with me at all if it's not your choice," he finished and abruptly stood up. All of this talk was exhausting! He returned to the kitchen area, grabbed their breakfast dishes and hurriedly dumped them in the sink. Tohru hadn't moved, but he couldn't spare any more energy on her just now. His mind was reeling with all of the things he had said. What if she didn't want to be with him? What if she did choose to go somewhere else? Would he be able and ready to hear her answer, no matter what it was?

Yes. He started filling the sink with hot water, pulling all his concentration into the simple domestic task. It didn't matter what her answer would be, because if he were going to be honest with himself, the truth was that even if she didn't want to be with him, he just wanted her to be herself again, to be happy.

They didn't talk much for the rest of the day. Kyo had exhausted all of his words at breakfast, and he didn't want to say anything now that might sway Tohru's decision either way. He certainly didn't want to talk her into anything, but at the same time, he knew if he spoke to her about their conversation, he might go too far and end up talking her out of something too. Tohru was unnaturally quiet, but that wasn't surprising. While she didn't seem uncomfortable in his presence, she didn't go out of her way to be with him. She spent quite a bit of time just staring at nothing, and Kyo hoped that she was thinking over what he had said and at the same time hoping that she wasn't thinking about it too hard. The vacant expression on her face worried him, though. Perhaps she wasn't thinking about anything?

Neither one of them ate much else, though they did have more tea around lunchtime and shared a riceball. There wasn't much need for food, Kyo realized, seeing as they were both not doing much of anything. Hatori stopped by once in the late afternoon to make sure that everything was all right. Kazuma was with him. If they were surprised by how serene the atmosphere was, no one said anything. Hatori informed them that Akito was very weak but resting quietly for the moment. Kazuma made encouraging statements, but eventually both men left with guilty eyes. Kyo found some satisfaction in that. They should feel guilty, he thought. Look what they've done. It's all their fault. All of it.

And even though he told himself that, he couldn't help but feel guilty as he watched Tohru blankly trace the scars on her arm as she stared off into a tormented scene of her own design, saying nothing. If he hadn't spoken to her, called her name like an idiot on the bridge, where would she be right now?

"Here again, I see," the familiar voice chirped cheerfully, and Yuki smiled as he looked up to see the girl from last night making the trek to where he stood on the bridge. He noticed that she again held a steaming paper cup.

"Yeah," he said guiltily.

"That's good. I'd feel silly bringing tea to someone who wasn't here." She handed him the cup, which he accepted gratefully. She paused then, her face uncomfortable. "Not that it would be a big deal," she added, trying to think of something else to say. He understood. She didn't want him to feel bad about waiting for someone who wasn't coming.

"Not at all," he said, hoping that his words would reassure her that he hadn't been offended by what she'd said. He knew he was crazy for standing here freezing on the bridge just because of some tip Kyo told him. That someone else had noticed his being crazy wasn't surprising. It didn't even make sense to him when he allowed himself to think about it long enough.

"So, um, what's your name?" She asked, changing the subject but still looking adorably awkward, her hands held behind her back now that she had nothing else in them.

"Sohma. Yuki Sohma."

"And I'm Miki Takeda. It's a pleasure to meet you." She bowed formally, catching him off guard and flooding him with happy memory. He bowed back, smiling.

"The pleasure is mine. Thank you again for the tea. I feel like I should start paying you for them if you're going to bring them every day."

"Don't even talk like that," Miki said, waving her hand and shaking her head. "I work at a restaurant; it's nothing at all to bring a cup of tea on the way home." They stood facing each other for a few moments, not knowing what else to talk about, but not really wanting to part ways either.

"I take it she hasn't come yet," Miki began, looking down into the water. "The girl you're waiting for."

"No," Yuki said despondently.

"Isn't there another way to find her? Like giving her a call or something? Does she even know you're waiting for her?"

"No," Yuki said again, answering all the questions at once and feeling uncomfortable again. It sounded so dumb when it was put that way. He couldn't call or visit. She had no idea who he was, let alone that he was looking for her. The concerned expression was back on Miki's face.

"What – did you just happen to see her here one day and are coming back just in case she comes again?"

"Something like that," Yuki confessed, surprised at Miki's observation ability.

"What if she never comes?" There! She'd said it. She'd said the one thing he made sure he never asked himself. What if he spent every night on this bridge, seasons changing, people moving all around him, and she never came by again.

"I don't know," he answered himself, not having planned for that scenario. Again with the lack of forethought.

"Well, what about if she does come? What are you going to say to her?"

"I'm not sure about that either," Yuki confessed, feeling heat in his face that had nothing to do with the drink in his hand.

"She must have really left an impression on you," Miki sighed, leaning over the railing and shaking her head. "For you to go to all this trouble."

"Yes," Yuki said, smiling.

"It's pretty romantic."

"It is?" This was something he hadn't considered during all the long hours he'd spent in this spot. He had thought it was a long shot. He'd thought it was crazy. He'd thought it was something he really needed, but never had he once thought it might be romantic.

"Sure it is. I would be so flattered if someone were standing and waiting on a bridge every night with no other thought except he just wanted to see me again."

"I guess so."

"But Yuki –" she hesitated, biting her lower lip.

"What?" He encouraged, enjoying how her talking was filling the night, making him feel like a part of him was in motion again, making him feel like he wasn't just a gargoyle stuck at the peak of the bridge.

"Never mind. It's really none of my business. Anyway, I have to go before I miss my bus." She made to leave him, but before he even knew what he was doing, he reached out and caught her wrist. She whipped her head around to look at him, the tiniest bit of fear on her face before she recognized his expression.

"Please," Yuki begged. "What were you going to say?"

"Well, standing on a bridge and waiting for someone who doesn't know who you are is only romantic if they find out about it. If she never comes back, or if she does and you find out that you can't talk to her after all, then –"

"Then?" Yuki prompted, surprised at how much he needed to hear this. She sighed, her manner full of regret that she had said anything.

"If she doesn't come, then what you're doing is really just tragic, isn't it?" He let his fingers slip from her sleeve, feeling the truth of her words just as sharply as he felt the cold wind blowing up from the river beneath him. The worst part was that he knew this already, but was keeping it at bay with the thought, that one precious thought, that maybe things could be the way they were. That he could pretend that nothing had happened. There was a huge emptiness inside him that he could only associate with her absence, but how could he really explain that to someone outside of the circumstances? That the thought of meeting her on this bridge, of seeing for himself that he hadn't caused her permanent harm, was what could allow him to go on with his life properly. If he didn't have that, then there would be no way to move forward. The real tragedy here wasn't the time he was spending on the bridge. The tragedy had happened long before, and it didn't matter how many nights he stood here. However long it took was just penance for what he'd done. He would stay here until he found out what happened to her.

"I'm sorry," Miki said through his thoughts, and he found she was peering anxiously into his face, still near him even though he wasn't sure how long they'd been standing together in silence since her last statement. "I say it's none of my business. This is obviously really important to you. I'd just hate for you to miss out on something that you'd regret."

"Thank you for worrying about me," Yuki assured her, even though he didn't feel very assured himself. "But this is something I know I have to do."

"Whatever you say." She lifted her hand in a parting wave, but her face wasn't entirely convinced that she was doing the right thing in leaving him.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Yuki called after her, smiling in the manner he remembered the girls in his fan club had found so charming. She grinned, still shaking her head at him, but did wave one more time before she dissolved outside of the light.

Her words unnerved him long after she was gone, however. What would he say if Tohru came? He couldn't exactly apologize for something she wouldn't remember he'd done. He couldn't straight out ask her how she was doing if she thought him a stranger. Maybe he was wasting his time. Maybe he wasn't thinking clearly. What did he want from her? And even more, could she really give it to him?

Maybe he shouldn't come back. Maybe he should move forward instead of backward. It couldn't be the way it was. But he still wanted to know how she was doing. He needed to know that, after a year, that she was happy. He wanted to know that she was being taken care of. Hatori wouldn't tell him, even though he was sure that he knew. Who else would know besides Tohru herself? Who would give him a straight answer?

He opened his eyes wide, suddenly knowing who he should be talking to. If he phrased his questions correctly, if he played the game exactly the right way, he could get the information he needed. It would definitely be harder than standing on the cold bridge, alone with his uncomfortable and conflicting emotions. It was really the last thing he wanted to do, but at the same time, maybe that was for the best. Maybe everything could be cleared up at once and maybe, there was the slight possibility of everyone getting what they wanted most.

All it would take was a well-planned meeting with Akito.