DISCLAIMER: We claim no ownership of Fruits Basket.
A Box of Paper Cranes
Prologue: Scars
August 20—
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Korean Hospital
He woke up.
Emerging from the darkness and being thrust into the light—yes. That was waking up, wasn't it, even though everything was terribly foggy with sleep.
So Hatori just waited for the fog to completely dissipate from the edges of his vision. He knew what he'd seen when it did (the bottom of his roommate's bunk bed), so it wasn't really a matter of orienting himself. It was a matter of needing to see before he ran around half blind with sleep and banged into the side of the sink. So he waited. And he waited.
The fog receded from his field of vision only a little, and only in one eye. The fact that it wasn't his roommate's bunk bed above him didn't really register because the other… When he closed his other eye but kept this one open, it was if he was looking up at a ceiling of white and gray through a slab of very dark, distorted glass smudged with dozens of fingerprints.
Trying his hardest not to panic, Hatori reached up to the eye to physically wipe away the fog, only to encounter something that caused his fingers to freeze.
Then they began to move again, as though to smooth down the white gauze that covered his eye.
And he remembered.
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Newspaper Office Building, Tokyo
"Sohma-san! Stop making me blush." The copy girl giggled behind her hand at Shigure's good-natured flirting before excusing herself and scampering away to run some errand or other. Shigure looked on after her, a smirk pressing at the edges of his mouth.
Talk about nice—
"SOHMAAAA!" something shrilled. Shigure sat up in his chair and swiveled around to encounter none other than his editor looming over him in a state of rage and—actually—panic.
"Ah, Micchan! Pleasant d—"
"Don't 'Ah, Micchan' me! Where's the article?"
"Was that due today?"
The newspaper editor nearly broke out in tears.
"WHEN DID YOU THINK IT WAS DUE?"
Shigure pretended to contemplate this.
"Don't answer. Please don't answer. Why haven't I fired you yet? I have all the reason to, and the only ones who would complain are the readers and the copy girls, so why haven't I fired you yet?" she muttered aloud, panic edging at the utter misery.
Shigure didn't have to contemplate this, and immediately responded, "Because I'm good looking, of cour—"
The man didn't get to finish as an ear-shattering blast exploded from somewhere above them, and the entire building shook violently. Shigure shoved the editor down beneath him, a reflex that he'd developed over the past year.
Being one of the first drafted into the army does things to people.
"What was that?" Kei asked, already in a panic as she peered up past Shigure and at the ceiling. Pieces of plaster shook loose and dusted them all in white.
It took Shigure less than a second to figure it out—he knew what this was, had experienced it several times last year, had helped cause something like it last year.
"Sohma," Kei shrilled. "What. Was. That."
"Bomb," he replied. "Probably. Well, get running, Micchan. Better safe than sorry. Falling ceiling can't be too safe, can it?"
The editor shrieked unintelligibly.
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Sohma Estate, Kyoto
"Kyou! Wa—"
"Shut up, Kagura!"
The girl's black eyes grew wide and she stalked towards the young man, grabbing his collar. Her hand was flying before he had a chance to wrench himself out of her grasp.
There was a resounding smack.
"Kyou, you jerk! Don't you get it? Haa-san almost died in Korea and now you're—"
"Don't talk to me about him!" he shouted, eyes shut tightly as he awaited another stinging slap. "Who cares what—"
"Kagura, let go of Kyou, please. And keep your voice down, Kotarou-kun might wake up," Kazuma commanded, his voice soft. The other two turned guiltily to face their sitting master. "Kyou, come here. Let me see."
The boy quickly shrugged away from Kagura to kneel before Kazuma as he began to examine the reddening area with gentle fingertips.
"Kagura, please get some ice. It might begin to swell up."
Kagura made a noise but still hurried out of the room and into the kitchen.
"Kyou…this isn't your choice, is it?" Kazuma whispered urgently, still holding his face. He didn't answer. "Is it?"
"No," he finally said, averting his eyes. Kazuma smiled, sadly and softly before he ran a hand through the boy's red hair.
"You might die, Kyou," the dojo master said seriously. "You might die in Korea, and that's probably what Akito wants."
They heard Kagura's footsteps as she hurried back.
"But…You'll survive, I think," Kazuma whispered as Kagura slid open the door. "You'll survive."
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Tokyo
"Oh, you'll see! I'll be this big-shot war hero for you by the time I come back!" Kyoko told her, laughing.
"Please don't say that," the girl murmured, a nervous (yet oddly brilliant) smile in place upon her lips. "I just want you to be careful. Be careful, okay?" She reached up and straightened her collar.
"I know, darling. I'll miss you," Kyoko said, smiling a lopsided little smile. Tohru returned it.
"I'll miss you, too."
"And you be careful too, okay, Tohru? They tell you to get out of Tokyo, get out. I'll find you later on, all right?"
"Okay," she agreed. She nodded at her.
And Kyoko, after planting a kiss on her daughter's forehead, straightened up and turned to go, peering over her shoulder and waving a good-bye to Tohru even as she climbed into the back seat of the taxi where two of her buddies—protective Junichiro and handsome Yukihiro—were already situated, their heavy duffel bags weighing on their knees.
Please, God, protect her. Please, God, if you exist, protect my mother.
The door of the taxi slammed shut and Kyoko watched Tohru as the distance between them grew.
Tohru waited until the taxi had turned a corner before she collapsed onto the pavement.
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Sohma Dojo, Kyoto
Yuki coughed.
The room was hot and he was hot and a little dizzy. He really didn't understand why the dojo was the only room on the Estate where there was no fan—the heat today was utterly ridiculous.
Hatsuharu watched him intently, not taking his eyes off the other boy even as he wiped his dripping forehead with his sleeve.
They were both completely silent then, and watched each other with narrowed, hawk-like eyes.
Haru struck out at his opponent quickly, but Yuki blocked it with his arm and kicked out, catching the other boy in the stomach.
And so the dance began and progressed, a battle between two of the most excellent students in the dojo. It went on and on until they were slick with perspiration and the room was even stuffier and hotter and Yuki could barely breathe.
The two of them leapt back for a moment, as if by a silent sign.
Yuki coughed again and struggled to regain his breath.
He couldn't.
His asthma wasn't this bad—it just wasn't. Something was wrong. He could feel it, could feel something else tightening its grip on his lungs, his chest, his throat.
Eyes wide, he began to gasp for air but found none because his throat was closing up, closing up, closing up. Before he knew it, he was doubled over his knees and Haru—panicking—was above him, the last thing he saw before he blacked out.
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Notes
Hi, there. It's us, plotbunnytohma. Just a few preliminary notes regarding the chemical composition of our baby, Folding Cranes. :laugh: But if we get reviews regarding anything here, we're not answering them, so read carefully.
Universe – Alternate, future. Setting – Future, Japan. Certain flashbacks may or may not be set in Korea. The city called New Tokyo will be explained in future chapters. The circumstances of the war may be explained. Other details with regard to setting are below the title of each chapter. Pairings – Undisclosed. If you like the story, read it. You just might like the outcome. Intentions – We're dedicated to finishing it. Cross out hearts. Updates – Slow and/or sporadic. We've finished up to chapter four at the moment, but there's a long way to go. Begging/threatening gets you nowhere. Warnings – Some possible bloodshed. Any other warnings will come when the chapter comes.
And, er, now that we've scared you off, would you please, please review? Or, if necessary, rant, or flame, or critique. Thank you!
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Notes: 4/15/06
Due to the fact that this is doubling as an original work of fiction, our editor was like, Fix this, and this, and this, and what about him? And what the FUCK were you doing HERE? And so on and so forth. So we decided to fix this, too, because we're just cool like that.
And, for the record, we're not really sure where the Sohma estate is, but Kyoto sounded nice, so...
So. Yes. Revised. Enjoy.