Author's note: I haven't written in a long time and I feel very rusty… But then again, I only write when I'm sad or extremely happy. I was merely content for a long time there, but now, things are feeling oppressive again. Here I go, channeling my frustration into Fruits Basket characters…

Kagura cracked the door to Shigure's room open and glanced cautiously inside. She waited for a moment, listening for the sound of his slow, meandering steps thudding down the hall or up the stairs, but there was nothing. The most that could be assumed from this was that he was still holed up in his study, making origami cranes or balancing a pen on his upper lip, or whatever other activity he practiced to perfection when he was pretending to write.

Sliding her body inside the partially opened door, she hastily scurried across the room and over to his bookshelf, scanning the titles. She had never read one of his novels before and a dreadful curiosity had settled upon her, one that could not be quashed until she knew exactly what kind of writing he did, although she already had an idea - and the idea itself was what embarrassed her too much to actually ask to borrow one of the books.

"Ah, this one looks…ok," she murmured, uncertainly reaching for the first title to catch her eye. A Place for You and Me. She flipped the front cover back and studied the title page, admiring the simple phrase that was scrawled in Shigure's handwriting at the bottom. "There's a place for you and for me…where the neon…oops." She glanced down at the several sheets of folded paper that had just fluttered to the floor, falling from somewhere between the middle pages of the book. Quickly, she knelt down to gather them back up, pausing only when her eyes fell upon the first line.

Dear Kagura…

Shigure pushed aside his slightly ajar door and shuffled into his darkened room, freezing in surprise as he noticed the girl sitting on the floor with her back to his bed, legs stretched out in front of her. Kagura rarely stepped into his room and he shifted his weight from the left foot to the right, crossing his arms with an amused smile. "Hey, what are…" He paused, eyes dropping down to the letters that she held limply in her lap, clutched in her numb fingers. Instantly, his throat tightened and he asked nervously, "Ah…what do you…um, have there?"

She raised her head, dark eyes meeting his slowly. "You wrote these to me," she said quietly, "but…"

He drew in a sharp breath.

Tearing her gaze away from his suddenly pale face, Kagura picked up the letters and began to study them again. After a few minutes, she could hear Shigure's footsteps moving toward her, the bed creaking as he sat down on the edge, and the two of them sat facing away from each other. The notes that started with her name written boldly across the top did not scare her nearly as much as the letter scrawled in her slight handwriting, sketched with dark pen upon the finest, golden-edged parchment she had ever seen…

Akito's initials hung heavy like two black tears at the top of the page, and she could not remember writing it at all.

Shigure opened the door to face a very grim looking Ayame. The young man's silver hair was draped over his shoulder in a loose braid as usual, but seemed rather unkempt all the same, strands falling out to frame his round face. "Aya?" he inquired curiously, feeling almost incriminated by those boring eyes, honey that had crystallized into perfect orbs. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to return these." Ayame stiffly held out an elegant hand in which several opened letters were carelessly held. His long fingers let them slip away as Shigure reached up to accept them, and several drifted to the ground. "Kagura asked that you have them."

"What?" Shigure was crouched down, gathering up the papers. He clumsily hopped forward to retrieve one that the wind had picked up and carried just out of reach. "Why would she want that?"

Ayame's hardened expression faltered into sympathy for just a moment. "Shigure, she made the decision to have you erased from her memory…"

Shigure rose abruptly, and immediately felt dizzy. "You can't let her be so rash! I'll go down to Akito's and talk to her; I don't care if he won't let me in, I'll just -"

"No, Shigure." The note of finality in Ayame's rich voice held him in place almost as effectively as the long-fingered hand pressing gently to his shoulder. "Hatori has already done it. She has no recollection of who you are."

Shigure could feel icy pricks traveling up his spine as the world began to deaden around him. Even as Ayame turned and walked away, he still felt as though everything around him was swimming in an impossibly thick fluid.

He slowly shut the door and turned to walk back to his study in such a fog that, by the time he sat down, he couldn't remember actually coming there. For a moment, he stared blankly at the writing instrument and paper awaiting his artistic touch, and then, picking up the pen, he touched it to the page, and began to furiously write.

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