::Obviously, Furuba is not my creation, but the plot line is my own. Comments welcome.::
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"Kyo! Eyes on the road!"
Yuki Sohma fixated his violet glare on Kyo from his seat in the back. He hated letting Kyo drive his car - or most of the Sohma family, in fact. He was tempted to think that one of the curses to the Sohmas (of which most would be oblivious) could be the fate of horrible driving. Hatori - careful, meticulous Hatori - had backed his Jaguar into a motorcycle. Shigure was subjected to a lifetime ban from driving by the country. Haru could crash anything that moved more quickly then his bicycle. Kyo had taken the driving test twelve times before he passed.
So why was he letting Kyo drive his precious car?
Because Tohru says so, his thoughts prodded. Because she says all Kyo needs is practice. Because she was feeling particularly pleasant towards Kyo yesterday.
After all, Tohru was the only one who could have forced this favor on him. If Akito had demanded it so, Yuki would have simply slit his own tires. Which would probably have been for the best in any case, he thought as the car threatened to slide into oncoming traffic.
Yuki could have spit ink at Akito, could've killed him many times. More appropriately would have, but he couldn't do those things. He was under the curse - that damned curse. So the thoughts that crept into his head were manipulated to replay the sick turn of events centuries in the past.
If it weren't for Kyo being so resentful of being the outcast, being the Cat, he and Yuki may have been friends. He wished the Sohma curse had never been, but wishing never did any good to their centuries old fate. Besides which, Yuki had more important things on his mind then wishes.
Things like the welfare of his car.
If Kyo wasn't careful - the car swerved a bit and Yuki bit the inside of his lip. If Kyo wasn't careful, they and the car would end up somewhat like the testing car from his sixth attempt at a license. The only exception being that at this speed you wouldn't have time to jump. Yuki winced at the thought of becoming a road pancake.
"Kusou nezumi," Kyo spat, misreading Yuki's slight expression, "I was nowhere near that guard rail."
"I believe when the paint starts flying off and a high squeal is heard, the guard rail has been scraped," Yuki spat back equally. He would have to think of some way to get the poor car fixed when this was over. He was glad, though, that Tohru was not in the car. An accident was bound to happen with Kyo driving.
"Slow down," Yuki advised coldly, "You're going to lose control."
"Will not, you're just not used to driving the speed limit," Kyo spat, "You're always slow at everything."
Yuki held the retort that played on his tongue. If Kyo got too riled up, he would take both hands off the wheel, leave his foot on the pedal and drive right into something. If Yuki hadn't valued his own life - and the lives of the other drivers - he would have simply enraged the orange haired idiot to see what he would do.
"Still too fast," Yuki said disdainfully. The criticism simply slipped past his lips. With anyone else this wouldn't have happened - but a car driving that quickly with Kyo has a driver was a death trap. Yuki could have slapped himself.
"You want to start something, baka nezumi?" Kyo yelled, whirling to face Yuki.
Then it all happened at once.
The car spun, sailing over the guardrail and the median - the only thing between their car and oncoming traffic. As if in slow motion, Yuki saw Kyo lose momentum and slam his head into the back of the seat. The tires squealed as they pushed themselves across the steel of the median. The side mirror was snapped off by a clod of grass.
Yuki saw the blue car approaching. He saw it all. The chips on the paint, the worn windshield wipers, and the license plate. It was staring up at him beaming to his position in the rear, where he was frantically diving for the steering wheel.
He reached it a second too late.
*
Tichini Koizumi sped along in her car. It was going to be a good day. She was going to make it be a good day if it killed her.
By the looks of things, it very well might.
The world was working very hard against her. The car radio refused to play more then one station - an American Country station that kept playing that same song over and over again. The parking space at her part-time job had been replaced by a dumpster. She went out to lunch, ordered, and realized she had forgotten her wallet. When she found her wallet - at work - all of her money was gone. Well, what little of it there had been, and - admittedly - that wasn't very much.
Yet today was her first interview for a nursing position since her internship. Surely nothing could spoil that?
The singer on the radio twanged on his little acoustic guitar and she drummed her fingers on the wheel. She was speeding, but what harm could it do? The - er, what had the doctor called it? Her thoughts sailed along faster then the wheels of her car. Sometimes breaking into tangents, other times becoming complete circles of thought.
Happy thoughts.
Was she really losing it? Her most recent professor told her she had a tendency for eccentricity, but was her sanity really sliding away in large chunks these days? It was a-
Oh look, that's a cute car.
What was I thinking about? she thought numbly. That was odd. One moment she had known exactly, the next she was wondering what on earth was going on. It had happened twice today. If she didn't know any better, she would have herself committed. Tychini laughed at the thought. How would her old professor feel if she knew her best student was losing it - rapidly?
In all honesty, Tychini new that she was one of the best nurses coming out of her internship. That was how she had come by her soon-to-be interview after all. Working privately on an estate must be easier then the work at the hospital. How many people at an Estate can break legs, arms, toes, etc. on a daily basis? Besides, unless one of them had a yearlong case of the flu, she wouldn't have to worry about cleaning up vomit for quite some time.
Tychini reached down and tried to change the volume on the radio. The twangy singer was more then irritating now. Out of sheer clumsiness she missed the knob, bumping the tuner. Looking down to find the volume button, she heard the scream of wrenched metal somewhere off - or was it somewhere close?
Tychini looked up just in time to see the car speeding for her, still carrying its bits of pieces of metal and grass from skidding across the highway. The driver looked only semi-conscious while someone else dove from the back for the steering wheel. Tychini tried to turn hard, but in the back of her head she knew the car couldn't make that maneuver. The last thing she saw was a pair of violet eyes staring at her.
Eyes full of terror.
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Author's Notes: Cliffhanger, eh? Ah well, you'll live. Chapter two will go up when I finish Chapter four, Chapter three goes up when I finish Chapter five, and so forth and so on. (Except 6 - 10 are complete.) Please review. :)