Stuck-up Beauty, Reformed Beast
A Fruits Basket fanfic by Raberba girl
Author's Note: While musing on the fact that Motoko loves Yuki and Akito looks like Yuki, I thought it would be interesting to write a romance fic between Akito and Motoko (of all people). Unfortunately, after I started writing this story, chapter 97 of the manga was published. However, I saw no reason to change my ideas for this fic just because Natsuki Takaya decided to throw us all for a loop. Please don't leave me reviews about Akito's Secret, because I already know. Enjoy the fic!
Part 1 (Akito)
Kyo told me that I ought to wear looser clothes when I go out, since the body-hugging things I usually favor only make me look more sickly. "You look more like a starved rat than a human," is how he worded it, I believe. Since I can't wear my robes outside and still be inconspicuous, there are not many appealing options left.
I give the jeans a dubious look, but pull them on nonetheless. The coarse feel of them against my skin irritates me, but I would rather go out in a surly mood than stay at home and rot from inactivity. Time was when I'd be perfectly content to laze around at home - I was going to die anyway, so what was the point of doing anything?
But now I am always restless. Life calls to me, demanding that I participate. I can't stand doing nothing; I have to make plans and fill up my future, I have to find answers and think up more questions. I have to work. I hate strengthening my body, but there's something fascinating about having a goal - and the rewards continue to astound me. Strengthening my attitude is even harder - sometimes I'd rather do hundreds of sit-ups than be nice to someone when I'm in a bad mood.
But that has its rewards as well. Momiji and Kisa already love me, though it's really embarrassing if I cry when Kisa brings me a gift or a story or a meal. And Hatori seems to have developed a sense of humor - unless, of course, it was already there and he was just too afraid to let me see it.
Some day I hope Yuki will be able to forgive me. That's the real reason I try as hard as I do. I encourage and compliment and smile at people for his sake, because nothing else could motivate me to go against the cruel nature I have nursed for so long.
This shirt-- I swear, it's wafting, as if there's a breeze. The hesitant way it touches me is annoying, like frightened fingers that only caress me out of pity. I have been handled that way by too many people... I angrily hug my arms around myself, pressing the shirt closer. It's one of those white flimsy things like pop stars wear, but it was the only thing I could find on short notice.
I hear footsteps approaching.
Quickly, I snatch up my robes and wrap myself in them, fling myself down on the porch, and pretend to be amusing myself by ripping out grass.
The door slides open. Hatori enters softly. "Akito? How are you feeling?"
"Lousy," I grumble, to get him to go away. Then I remember that I'm supposed to be making an effort, and if I'm too surly he'll just stay longer and try to make me act civil. "I'm just...not feeling up to doing much," I say, trying to sound strained and polite. Convince him that I'm in a bad mood but still trying to be nice. Oh, wait...those are my actual feelings. Never mind.
"What are you planning to do today?"
"I dunno. I was thinking I could look after the garden a bit, maybe try to cook something." I hate that stupid therapy-garden. It's messy work, with dirt and bugs and sun everywhere, yet it never fails to surprise me how pleased I feel when the green things I plant start poking up out of the soil.
"You going to try that last recipe Tohru gave you?"
"Yeah. Though her stuff always tastes better."
"At least the last couple of times you managed not to burn the rice."
"Shut up." There's a moment of silence during which Hatori does not go away, and I realize that he's waiting for me to get up and do something.
I lay my head down on my arms. "I'm really tired, though, Hatori. I wanted to take a nap first."
He pauses, probably trying to gauge whether I'm really tired or am just trying to worm my way out of having to muck about in the garden. Then, "All right, Akito. I'll come back in an hour or so."
"Thanks, Ha'ri," I mumble sleepily. People like it when I use nicknames. It seems to make them think I'm loosening up.
I wait until the door slides shut again and the sound of his footsteps fades. Then I get up and shed the robes. I am going out today, alone. I am sick of being accompanied everywhere I go, as if I'm a six-year-old.
-----------------------
There are pros and cons to going outside.
I hate the press of people, the noise, the smell, the feeling that I'm drowning in an ocean of humanity. I hate the way people look at me. At the Estate, everyone treats me with respect; they are quiet, and they are attuned to me. Out here, people just see me as a shifty-eyed, graceful waif with a pretty face. It's like they think they have the right to admire my looks, guess my thoughts, and criticize me.
Yet there's something thrilling about it all, too. Here's me, sick little Akito, tossed out into the chaotic mess that my fellow man experiences every day. There are so many sights to enthrall me, so many customs that beckon me to learn them. So many faces to read.
It has become a new game of mine. I figured out how to play when I realized how to turn the tables on the people who always stare at me. I look at a person, I see the clothes they wear and the way they walk and the expression on their face, and in my mind I decide on their personality. He wears sunglasses, he must be a hoodlum. She smiles, she must be kind. It is always amusing - especially when, for example, the boy in sunglasses stops and calls affectionately over his shoulder for his little sister to catch up; or when the smiling girl shouts filthy words at a kid who accidentally bumps into her.
After a while, the sun starts getting to me. My body is filmy with sweat, and my skin is tingling and itchy, threatening to burn in earnest if I stay outside much longer. I duck into a nearby building, seeking relief.
What have I stepped into? Crazy dark place filled with flashing colored lights. Smell of people who do this all day for fun and aren't too terribly interested in showers.
Arcade of some kind.
I stand off to the side for a while, trying to get used to the place. Then I wander around, finding everything disgusting, but fascinating. People are hypnotized by screens, their fingers punching buttons furiously. I stop here and there to watch: fighting games, racing games, games in which the sole object seems to be to shoot as many people and/or aliens as possible. Fun.
I watch longest at the corner with the, what are they called, DDR machines. Dance Dance Revolution. More like Stomp-in-Place Revolution. Idiotic. But strangely captivating. I am even developing a stupid desire to have a go at it myself.
'Don't even think about it, Aki,' I tell myself. 'You'd probably end up puking all over your opponent, or gasping for breath on the floor.' I watch a little while longer. Then I think, 'Would I, really?' Much as my health has improved over the last couple of years, I know I will never be a physically strong person. My body is just too messed up. But still...I have come a long way. I can always stop if this DDR thing becomes too much for me.
"So how 'bout it, gorgeous. Think you can beat me?"
I look up in annoyance. A beautiful, audacious girl is standing next to me, looking right at me. My eyes search the room behind her, and sure enough, there are the rest of her friends, watching us and giggling.
'Be nice, Aki,' I tell myself. I say to her, "I doubt it. I've never played before," instead of, 'You are annoying, and I would like to smash a vase into your eye.'
She gives me an incredulous look. "Come on. You've never played? You look like the kind of guy who'd be great at this kind of thing."
'Huh. Wonder why you think that. Perhaps because you're judging me when you don't know me at all, the way everyone else seems to enjoy doing.'
"Would you even be talking to me if my eyes weren't like twin pools of midnight, and my skin wasn't like a film of snow, and my hair wasn't like a downy fall of velvet?"
She gives me a look like I'm crazy. Understandable, I suppose.
"Speaking of hair," she says, "can I touch it?"
Outrage takes my breath away, so that there is a pause before I can answer. "No."
She reaches up anyway, and runs her fingers through it. I don't like how nice it feels.
She smiles. "Lovely. Your girlfriend must do that every time she sees you."
"And of course, because I have the looks of an angel, I must have a girlfriend."
She cocks an eyebrow at me. "You really have a thing against people who try to judge you."
"No kidding. Go away." This is very kind and tactful for me.
She tosses her hair. "The more I talk to you, the more interesting you get. I haven't given up on you."
She leaves, thankfully.
And fortunately, I've lost my nerve to play DDR.
I wander around a bit more. The arcade turns out to be only part of the building; the other half is dedicated to selling video games, fantasy books, and trading cards. I pick up a book at random and flip through it. Some shojo manga about a magical girl. Main character transforming, main character blasting a monster, main character getting seduced by the villain...hm, interestingly graphic...main character angsting to her friends about it afterward, main character messily sprouting bat-wings, cliffhanger ending with the main character discovering that there is something called a "demon-seed" implanted in her body.
I put the book back on the shelf in disgust.
-----------------------
I emerge from the arcade, and in the daylight I suddenly realize that I'm tired. The city-noises outside are almost soothing, after I've been so long among the arcade's buzzes, beeps, and pounding music. After the darkness, the sun seems demanding.
I buy some food and walk around eating it. I long for the meals I usually have at home, which are tailor-made to fit my taste, but it's somewhat interesting to see how much of this stuff I can get down before I feel like throwing up. All of it, as it turns out. Hatori will be pleased. That is, once he stops raging at me for going out unescorted.
I sit down on a bench next to a playground. I'm exhausted. My eyes sting with sleepiness, my legs ache from walking, and my whole body feels limp and half-numb from the heat. I suppose it's not so very hot outside, but I'm more sensitive to temperature than most people.
I watch the children playing. I envy them a little, those young healthy creatures, able to run around and scream and laugh so effortlessly. Look, that one fell down and hurt herself. She cries, but then her mother comes over. Mommy looks at the scrape, applies a Band-Aid that she handy-dandily had in her purse, kisses it, then sends the little girl off to play again, laughing and good as new.
When I was her age, I would have been bruised for weeks.
Three little boys seem to be arguing. One of them catches sight of me. He runs over and says, very impatient and business-like, "Hey, can you be base?" He's wearing a scruffy blue hat.
"What are you talking about?" I say.
"We need a base, mister. Tomozaki-kun says it has to be a grown-up, and I don't want to use Mom 'cause she'll yell at me."
"Look, you little brat, if you think I'm just going to sit here and let you use me in some - some game--"
The disgusted look on his face stops me. "Whatever. You look like a girl, I don't wanna play with a wuss like you."
Rage sends me towering to my feet. His eyes widen as he looks at me, then he suddenly shrieks and flees. I run after him, and the kid's friends yell and scatter. I swoop about, lunging for them, but they always swerve just out of my reach. 'I've always HATED these games,' I think fiercely, 'I can never--'
I come to an astonished halt. I realize that the boys have not been fleeing, exactly. They have been running almost in circles around me, dashing here and there and keeping their eyes on me while they...laugh. They're laughing? Do they think I'm playing with them?
"What's up, pretty-boy?" the kid with the blue hat taunts. His eyes are gleaming with laughter. "Can't keep up? You run like a girl, too."
"You dare speak to me like that--" I snatch at him, intending to grab a handful of his hair, but he ducks out of my grasp. My hand closes around his shoulder instead, but not tightly enough to keep hold of him.
"You moron!" one of the other boys screeches.
I don't like being called a moron. But before I can draw blood, Blue Hat makes a noise like "Argh!" He slaps his hand over his face in frustration, and I realize that he's the one they were referring to, not me. Apparently now that I touched him, he's "It" or whatever they call it. Blue Hat looks straight into my eyes, and...
...I run.
He chases me, and my shoulders hunch up with anticipation at the thought of being caught. I whirl and dart in another direction, and I find myself screaming with a kind of furious laughter. I've never felt like this before - all at once full of fear and excitement, happiness and tension. So this is why people think these games are fun. I never understood that before.
I realize that I'm the slowest, therefore the easiest target; he'll catch me any minute. I turn to cross paths with the boy they called Tomozaki. He has slowed to a jog, because Blue Hat was concentrating on me. Tomozaki, startled, lurches into a full run, but it's too late; Blue Hat seizes his chance and swerves to grab him. They fall to the ground, yelling, then disentangle themselves and start running again.
Something's wrong. My balance is off as I run, and I fall hard to my knees. I wince at the pain, knowing that it will hurt for days. I bruise so easily, it's frustrating.
An instant later, I have forgotten my knees. I double over, clutching my chest and fighting for breath. It hurts. I need to catch my breath, but every inhalation feels like I'm taking in gravel instead of air.
"Hey, girly! Come on!" They skid to a stop around me, and one of them shakes my shoulder. The noise I can't help making in response to this is appalling.
"Hey!" They sound worried now. "Are you having a heart attack or something?"
I try to answer, but I can't form words and it only gives them a worse impression.
"Mom! Mom!" Blue Hat pounds away, leaving the other two to dither around me.
I cough into my hand. The gunk is tinged with blood and leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
"Whoa!"
"Cool!"
"You're really sick, aren't you?"
They sound almost delighted about it.
"Let me see!" They crowd around my hand and stare, awed, at the mess I have coughed into it. They watch eagerly as I cough some more, but to their disappointment, nothing else is produced, other than a fleck of spit at the corner of my mouth.
Blue Hat returns with a woman. She crouches down beside me, rubbing my back and asking me loudly and firmly what's wrong.
"Just...need to catch my breath," I manage. The pain has lessened, I'll be fine in a few minutes.
"Mrs. Ishida, look!" They direct her attention to my hand.
"Oh, boys! That's nasty, don't touch it! Here, sweetheart, let me get rid of that for you." She pulls out a tissue and cleans off my hand. "There. Kohaku, go fetch one of the extra water bottles from my bag."
Mrs. What's-Her-Name pats my shoulder and assures me, "It will be all right, dear."
I can't help laughing softly. This is crazy. Compared to how sick I can get, this is nothing, yet everyone's acting like I'm dying. Though it's kind of nice, the way this woman is taking care of me. Hatori usually has this patient, exasperated air of, 'Great, Akito strikes again. I wonder if he's doing it on purpose?' and everyone else tiptoes around me like I'm a mine that's going to blow up if they touch me directly. This woman treats me like she would treat her own child.
The pain in my chest has faded to an ache (it will disappear once my heart rate returns to normal), and now my knees are bothering me more than anything. They have that weightless tingly feeling that means they are going to hurt a lot if I dare to move them.
"I'm all right," I say, embarrassed. I try to get up, but I have to do it slowly and awkwardly, because the soon-to-be-bruises are throbbing.
"Oh no, dear," Mrs. Ishi-whatever says firmly, misunderstanding my awkwardness. She pulls me back down. "You're injured, we'll have to get you to a doctor."
"I'm fine," I insist, but then I start coughing again. Wonderful.
Kohaku, the one with the blue hat, runs up with some water. "I got it!"
"Here, honey, drink this," his mother says encouragingly.
"I'm fine," I say again, but I'm starting to recognize defeat when I see it. I take a few cautious sips, and wipe my mouth.
"Are you okay?" the boys want to know. "Do you have cancer or something? Are you gonna die? Your face is all white. Sorry for making you run, girly-boy, I didn't know you'd collapse like that."
"Kohaku! Tomozaki! Shizo!"
"Sorry, Mom."
"Sorry, Mrs. Ishida."
"I'm FINE." I remember just in time, "And...thank you." I get up quickly, ignoring the bruises and hoping that the woman will believe I have recovered.
"Sorry for almost killing you, gir-- uh, mister."
"You okay now, mister?"
"I'M FINE!" I scream at them. The woman looks shocked, and the boys' eyes are wide. I stare at them for a moment, wishing I could have held my temper for just a little longer. I muster up as captivating a smile as I can manage at the moment, and add, "Really, I am."
Tomozaki punches me gently on the arm, and Kohaku holds up his hand. I look at him, confused.
"Geez, you don't know anything," he says in exasperation. He pulls out my hand and slaps it.
"Ow!"
They laugh, not sounding very friendly. "You really are a wuss," Shizo mutters. I yank him close and roughly tousle his hair.
"Call me that again and I'll rip your nose off."
They seem to find that hilarious. I smile at them, thank the woman and then walk away, trying not to visibly hobble.
I have never been so confused in my entire life.
to be continued...
A/N: Akito refused to cooperate with me in this fic. He insisted on being very OOC, and had a grand old time making fun of himself. He's perfectly willing to be good or evil for me, but he only laughs and goes on to do his own thing when I try to make him transitional.