Title: Last Banquet
Author: Angelicgiggles
Disclaimer: Fruits Baskets and all its characters belong to Takaya Natsuki. I am merely borrowing them to write this sad little fic which crawled into my mind until I typed. No profit is made.
Rating: PG
Characters: Akito
Spoilers :Chapter 97 and on.
Summary: When Akito arrives at the last banquet, she gets a very cruel surprise.
She was expecting to hear the familiar hum of voices, the hurried footsteps, soft tones of conversation towards her. She was expecting ten of them to be sitting down with her, enjoying the dance that two of them would be presenting to her. She was expecting a nice evening with food, conversations and beauty. She was expecting the one night of the year in which she was truly happy. Funny, she had contemplated before. That the day she was truly happy, was the one day the year died, making way for a brand new year.
Yet, today no one talked. She didn't talk. Today, they didn't dance. The wooden floor did not echo with the gentle steps of their beautiful grace of death and birth. Tonight…no one was there. She stared along the room, so well prepared for them to come forth. But the room remained empty; ready, eager and expecting those who would rid it of its cold echoes and bring life into its dull, sad life. But no one came. From her spot on the floor Akito heard no footsteps. As soon as she had stepped into the room she had been greeted by a cold air of sadness. Emptiness. She had walked to the space reserved for her and slowly had sunk to her knees. And from that moment on she had stared at the empty room, unwilling to blink and let that emptiness be buried into her mind.
Why didn't they come? She kept asking her self. Had she done something wrong? But she didn't have any answer. She was as empty as the room she was in.
Perhaps…just maybe…she had mistaken the date? No. She had told the maids. Today was the day. Slender hands clenched into fists. No. This couldn't be. The fisted hands reached up and savagely rubbed against her eyes. She had to be mistaken. They had always come. Always. Not one had missed it. Slowly, reluctantly, she started removing her hands from her face; afraid of seeing the emptiness again. But she had not been mistaking. The cold empty room greeted her gaze.
Akito wanted to scream. Wanted so much to just rise to her feet and dump all the refreshments set out for them, tear all the elegant cushions into pieces, and throw all of the expensive incense to the floor where it would set fire to the room and swallow the emptiness whole. But she couldn't. She went through the images in her head but she did not move off the floor. Her lips parted for the scream, but instead a choked sob came out. She had been suppressing it, and its escape pained her. One hand unfisted slowly, almost as if it had been that way for a long time and now was rusty at the knuckles. She rested the palms of her hands on the cool wooden floor and just stared at nothing. Why? Why? Why? She had loved them so much all these years. Why? Why? Why? She had given up everything to be their God. Why? Why? Why? She had loved them all.
Why then, hadn't they come?
Her mother had not been right at all. The bond really was there. That was what kept them together. Now that it was gone…so were they. Hatori and Kureno. The ones that had stayed with her, that had not once denied her wishes, were gone as well. They had told her that if she told the rest the truth they might forgive her.
"Forgive me for what?" Akito asked, dark grey eyes glaring at Kureno menacingly. "I didn't do anything wrong!"
"Akito" Kureno sighed "You've hurt people…but…" at this his hand took a hold of Akito's head and gently pulled the slender girl towards his chest. "You've been hurt so much as well…"
She should have protested. She should have pounded Kureno, Hatori, Shigure, and Ayame until they all changed their minds. She should have covered her ears as Shigure spoke to her, she should have pulled away when Kureno gently caressed her, she should have closed her eyes when she saw Hatori smiling at her for the first time in many years, she should have closed the door when Ayame came with the silk kimono specially made for the occasion. But she didn't. And now she was alone. Cold. Empty.
A tear slid down a pale cheek and slowly she lay down upon the cold floor. She didn't feel like crying; but she kept whimpering pathetically, the tears kept streaming down her face. Her slender arms wrapped around her self. Anything to keep her from shivering. Anything to protect her from the cold. She touched the cool silk of the kimono Ayame had made for her. A liar. A traitor. He wasn't here; no one was here. The curse broken; the truth learned, had only earned her hate. But she couldn't feel angry, sad, disappointed. Nothing. She was cold and empty. Just like the room.
