Title: Water Under the Bridge, Part 1: Blood is Thicker than Water

Introduction: Water under the bridge, as you may or may not know, is a phrase meaning things gone by, unchangeable. The Water Under the Bridge series explores things in the pasts of the Fruits Basket characters. Note: The events in this series may not be consistent with the facts in the manga and/or anime series, for story purposes! This series has Parts, which is different than chapters. Each Part is a separate story and has chapters of its own. This is Part 1. Enjoy, and thank you!

Summary: Ayame didn't always feel the way he does now about Yuki. We know the story from Yuki's point of view, but what about Ayame? What exactly went on when the brothers were younger to create the odd helter-skelter relationship that the brothers have now? The first story in the Water Under the Bridge series. Includes a few minor OC's (OC: Original Character—not OOC!).

Disclaimer: The story and cast of Fruits Basket belong to the fabulously creative artist and storywriter Natsuki Takaya! We all love her! Hiroko Sohma, Yoshino Sohma, and Hakuro Sohma are all creations of my own.

Chapter 1

A Child Named Yuki

I knew the moment I got home that day that something was wrong.

The late autumn day was a chilly, cloudy gray, almost as though ominously foretelling the events due to happen. As soon as I set foot within the compound, I could hear the noise. That in itself was unusual because, one, our family was usually fairly quiet (excluding me, of course), two, the compound is vast, and noises don't carry easily between the residences, and three, our dwelling was set back from the entrance—the fact that I could hear it all the way from the gate was quite something in itself.

Apprehensively, I started for the house, past the first building, through the stone courtyard, past the koi pond and the cherry trees. I wished Tori-san or even Gure-san was with me. No matter what was happening, calm, responsible Hatori would know what to do, and Shigure would make it seem like nothing with that carefree laugh. But they were both away today, Shigure visiting a friend—he'd always been the most independent of the Juunishi children—and Hatori at the library, studying. He was always studying. I felt a momentary pang of sympathy for him. Hatori never objected when adults made his decisions for him, and he'd even given up his dream of becoming a scientist when his father had made it clear that he preferred his occupation to be in the medical field. He was the "reliable" one, the "mature" one, and though I felt these qualities were quite true of him, oftentimes no one understood the pressure he was under except Gure-san and me.

My moment of compassion dissolved, however, as it was quickly replaced by more selfish worry for whatever was going on here and now. A thought occurred to me, and I felt as though someone had dropped a lead weight in my stomach: It couldn't have to do with my new brother, could it?

Seven months ago, my mother had announced she was pregnant. I was ecstatic. I'd always wanted a sibling, someone to play with, someone to care for, someone to share the ups and downs of living in a Sohma household, but most of all—I wanted someone my parents could focus their attention on, to take it away from me.

My parents hadn't been happy about the fact that they'd given birth to a Juunishi child. It had taken the family days to calm my mother down, and she still hadn't come to terms with the fact that I was hers. I never called her "Mother" to her face, because every time I did, I'd either be met with an icy glare and a "you're no child of mine" or be ignored. My father, on the other hand, was more openly nasty. He slapped me around, shoving me when I was in his way, and deprived me of food or locked me in my room when I hadn't done something to his satisfaction. Thankfully, he was just harsh, not vicious, and he never took enough notice of me to actually beat me or mistreat me to an extent that would draw others' notice. Sometimes I half wished someone would notice who was outside of the family, but of course that would have its consequences. I hoped that the birth of a new, more ordinary, perhaps more lovable child would soften my parents' view of their firstborn.

I survived the better part of my childhood by escaping to either Shigure or Hatori's house. They had, if not exactly loving either, at least parents that could be relied on to take care of them. Hatori had only one parent. His mother had loved him and been slightly overprotective, but had passed away when we were five. His father made sure he was fed, clothed, sheltered, and educated properly; his concern went not much farther than that. He was distant, reserved, and dutiful, not affectionate in the least, and I suspected it was where Hatori had inherited most of his personality from, though he had slightly more cheer and more of a sense of humor. Gure-san's parents were gracious people, but, as was commonly the case among parents of the Juunishi, did not love him. They treated him more as though he were an exchange student staying temporarily with them, courteous but no more loving than Hatori's father. Shigure, too, had been affected by his parents, just as Hatori had, though in a different manner. Rather than adopting their staid character, Shigure became mischievous and impish under the lax supervision, and despite his lenient, pleasant upbringing, it was clear at times that he was hurting. He simply hid his hurt behind a mask of nonchalance.

We all reacted to the neglect we were shown in different ways. The other two were neglected emotionally, I both emotionally and physically. Hatori hardened, learning quickly to accept what acknowledgement he was given indifferently and never resisting what befell him. Shigure simply blinded himself to the problem, living a life of feigned happiness and denying there was anything wrong. They were both predictable, understandable methods of coping—callusing and denial.

I was different, a puzzlement. Outwardly, I was a difficult, unruly, but still lively child. No one understood it. The more abuse I was shown, the more exuberant I became, unleashing my pain silently through seemingly irrational over-extroverted behavior. I was anything but shy, clinging shamelessly to others, going after what I wanted. Adults shook their heads at me and said I was growing up a little too healthily for their tastes. It was only when I was alone, or with people I trusted with my life, that I dropped the façade. My suffering was constantly turned inward, trapped and smothered, and most of the time even I managed to forget it was there. But occasionally it reared its head, an ugly monster, though as I grew older these bouts of agitation grew less frequent, and I managed them better, hiding them from strangers, friends, and finally myself, until I was living a lie. But just then that day, when I was walking home from school, wondering what was going on, none of us had yet reached that point of pretense.

I recognized my father's voice first. Deep and low, it was raised at a shout, and could usually be quite threatening, but at the moment was at a distressed timbre—wild, almost panicked. It puzzled me to hear him like this. What could possibly have happened to unseat my father? I couldn't make out his words. There was a female voice—Gure-san's mother? Why was she here?—and one other male voice I couldn't identify. My suppressed uneasiness grew. I had to pause before turning the last corner, stopping myself from dashing into the house and demanding news of my brother. As long as he was safe, I had little to no interest in matters of the house. Until that knowledge was secured, however, I was in a state of dread. Recalling I had not seen my mother that morning, my self-composure slid even further out of grasp.

I took a deep breath before rounding the bend, mentally berating myself for being paranoid, and was met with a concerning sight. My father was pacing back and forth in front of the entrance, looking frantic and shouting into a cell phone. A tall woman with short-cropped brown hair watched him anxiously, seated on the porch. I'd been right—it was Hiroko Sohma, Shigure's mother. Another woman stood silently in the shadow of the porch overhang, leaning against the wall. She was more petite than Hiroko, slim and pale, her hair dark black and long enough to brush her narrow shoulders. Her face was turned away, and I didn't recognize her until she turned and looked straight at me, as though she had sensed my presence. Though it was not necessarily directed at me, there was such hate and anger and spite contained in her gaze that I flinched, and I realized it was Yoshino Sohma.

Yoshino was certainly an oddity. She had never been classified as either one of the children or one of the adults while growing up, and no one really was close to her nor knew her. She was attractive enough, I suppose, willowy and lithe, though not beautiful—her eyes were too cold. She married when she was barely older than the rest of us, at nineteen. Her husband was a mysterious figure outside of the family and died three months after the wedding. A son was born to her soon after that, by the name of Akito, and for reasons I didn't understand, as soon as the boy was born both child and mother were closeted away and rarely seen. The boy was supposed to be ill, but something had made me think at the time that there was more to it than sickness. However, I'd never been very interested in Yoshino and so promptly forgot about her when her seclusion began. I'd been eight at the time. Now I was eleven.

It was the first time I'd seen her outdoors since Akito's birth. She was now twenty-two and looked no different, I thought at first, but upon closer inspection I changed my mind. She'd always been thin but now was much thinner, her face gaunt and her cheekbones sharp. Her skin was sallow and so pale as to be translucent, and her fingers wound themselves soundlessly round each other as though they couldn't keep still. Her shoulders were hunched, the shadows under her eyes darker, and her stare had a tormented look. Yoshino looked awful—as though she were wasting away. I inadvertently wondered about her baby boy, and so thinking, turned my thoughts unintentionally back to my brother. My nervousness came back, with a vengeance.

I stepped out just as my father snapped the phone shut, wringing his hands. "Damn," he kept muttering. "Damn, damn, damn."

Hesitantly, I put out my hand. "Father?"

He turned. I needn't have feared the repercussions of addressing him so insolently, for he seemed to look straight through me. His eyes were distracted, his thoughts elsewhere. In fact, it took him several moments to recognize me. "Oh… Ayame. What is it?"

Emboldened by his civil tongue, I did something I normally might not have done: asked a question and risked angering him. Or rather, several questions, for they spilled out before I could clamp my mouth shut over them again. "Father, what's the matter? How is the baby? Is Mother all right?"

He was elsewhere again. "The baby," he said abstractedly, his gaze straying past my shoulder. He shook his head and stepped away without answering my question. "The baby… the baby, the baby…" Now I was thoroughly troubled.

"Really, Ichido… is there cause for such concern? It is an early birth, naught more. It means nothing."

At the sound of a new voice, I spun around—and froze. I hadn't noticed him when I had first advanced. The speaker was tall, broad-shouldered. His full head of still-lush black hair belied the lines of age etched onto his stern visage. When he stepped forward, light glinted off his eyeglasses. His whole being emanated authority. He was the one I had heard before.

My father responded in an anguished tone. "If only it meant nothing! But all the signs are there—the unusual activity of the baby, delayed signs of pregnancy, and now the premature labor… What will I do? If—if this is—" He stopped himself, appearing to be unable to continue. Instead, he just shook his head again. "It'll destroy her."

The man's voice was smooth, pacifying. "Now, now, Ichido. Calm down. Is it really so bad? It has to happen to someone, you know."

"It's already happened to us!"

"Then your family gets to be lucky twice."

Father snorted. "Lucky! Yes, lucky…" his tone was bitter.

I found my voice at last from where it had seemed to be frozen in my throat. "H-Hakuro-sama!"

Hakuro Sohma was the current head of the family. We children were rarely allowed to see him, and though I did not fully understand the significance of the title, I knew that being head of the household involved more than just being a figurehead. I knew his position was somehow related to us, the Juunishi. For him to have come, whatever was occurring must have been something of great importance.

"Hmm?" The man glanced at me, adjusting his glasses with a light flick of the finger. "Ah, little Ayame is here." He bent his tall frame down to my level and smiled. It was a kind smile, but the power behind it made me shiver. "You must be worried about your mother and your brother, yes?"

I nodded and stared at the flagstones beneath my feet. My voice was stuck again.

"Don't be upset. Your mother has gone to the hospital. She'll be back soon, with your baby brother."

"The hospital?" It came out as a whisper. My throat was dry, and I had to clear it before my words worked again. I had a brief moment to wonder why the man in front of me, the one with such a gentle smile and soft voice, frightened me so much. Then my thoughts began to race. "My brother?"

"That's right," he reassured me. "Your little baby brother. Won't that be nice?"

I was snapped out of my spell by my irritation at being treated like a child. Raising my head, I realized that his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, Hakuro-sama."

Hakuro straightened, turning his benevolent expression upon my father. "Your child flatters me, Ichido." He put a hand on my shoulder. "Hakuro-sama is too formal, my boy. –San will do."

We were instructed always to address the head of the household as –sama, but I knew better than to argue with the man himself. "Yes, sir… Hakuro-san."

"Better." His attention was off me already. "What does the doctor say, Ichido?"

"I couldn't talk to him." Father's voice was heavy. "Keiko's on her way home right now. She should be here any minute."

"God, I hope she's all right." Shigure's mother spoke up for the first time.

My thoughts were still going a mile a minute. I wasn't stupid—I knew that seven months was much too early for a woman to go into labor. Such premature births were rare. Signs. My father had talked about signs. What had he said exactly? Unusual activity from the baby, delayed signs of pregnancy. That was true of my mother. My head spun as a suspicion drifted to the surface of my mind. What if… what if—

"Keiko!" My head shot up. My father's eyes had gone wide with alarm. I whirled round to see my mother, not ten paces away, leaning against the wall of another building. Hiroko-san rushed to support her, and not a moment too soon, for my mother looked on the verge of collapse. Her face was white as milk.

Father ran to her. "Keiko…" his face was blanched as well. "Keiko, is it…?"

My mother nodded, once, then went limp in Hiroko-san's arms. My father let out one despairing cry: "No!"

Hakuro-sama had reached them. He easily swung my mother's unconscious body up into his arms, as though she weighed nothing, and began to carry her into the house. He paused to throw a few words over his shoulder: "It was only to be expected, Ichido. I congratulate you." It was said with a certain amount of dryness.

My father crumpled onto the floor, weeping. Hiroko-san patted his arm awkwardly. I was all but invisible. I wanted desperately to ask the question that was battering at my throat, wanting out, but I was too afraid—too afraid of the answer… too afraid that my suspicions were right.

"I can tell what you're thinking, you know."

I spun around. I'd forgotten about Yoshino. Her voice was thin, and yet had a hint of malevolence. But she didn't seem to mean any harm at the moment. She detached herself from the wall with the air of a viper unwinding from its perch and beckoned with a bony finger. Nervously, I complied, stopping just short of her reach. She extended her arm forward, out of the shadow like a ghost, and I was shocked to see just how pale she was in the light before she grasped my shoulder in a frail hold and drew me closer.

She studied my face uninterestedly, her eyes blank. "You've grown."

I swallowed. "Yes. So have you," I added foolishly, at a desperate loss for a reply.

It was the wrong thing to say. She laughed mirthlessly, bitterly. "Have I? Grown sickly and pale, you mean. Oh, you have no idea how I've lived, shut up in the dark… with that… that thing…" she shuddered in revulsion. I was lost. She seemed someplace else entirely, off in her own world. What was she talking about? But then her attention refocused on me.

"Ah, yes. Ayame Sohma. Ichido and Keiko's son. The… snake." The pause was delicate, barely there, only noticeable enough to make me uncomfortable.

I didn't know what to say to this, so I stayed silent.

"Like I was saying," she continued, without apparent acknowledgement of the discomfiture she had caused, "I can tell what you're thinking. You're completely transparent, did you know that? All your thoughts show right up on your pretty little face." Her finger was tracing said face, and now had a strand of my hair wound around it. She peered at the gleaming white lock nearsightedly. "Such an unusual color. I suppose only to be expected from a… different child."

The world seemed committed to making me uncomfortable today. Just to break the tension, I interrupted boldly, "You said you could tell what I'm thinking. So what am I thinking?"

Yoshino stopped short, surprised, then smiled unpleasantly. Was it the expression that was unpleasant, or did her face just look that way? "Ah… you're wondering about the baby."

"Yes. Is—is he…?"

"Juunishi?" she asked without ceremony. Jerking her head in a nod, she indicated the affirmative. "Yes. Apparently your mother's in shock and your father's in a state of crazed grief." She twitched her chin toward my father's bowed form. "Interesting reaction to the birth of a baby, don't you think?" Her mouth twisted. "They say it's sickly. Oh, your parents will have a fine time contending with a feeble child. I would know."

I stared at her but didn't say anything. My mind was too overwhelmed with the news. Juunishi? I had a Juunishi brother? I felt as though my head was exploding with emotions. Shock, anger, joy, disappointment, relief, panic… they all whirled around and around my thoughts until I forcibly stopped them, blanking out my mind completely. I needed to get away.

I turned from Yoshino's thin-lipped smirk and strode off, past Father, past Shigure's mother. I had to find someplace to think. I headed to the very back of the compound, where Hatori's family lived, but not with any intention of visiting my friend. There was a small creek that ran through the property, and beyond it, just before the fence, was a row of trees. I often climbed one of them when I needed to be alone.

It was what I did now; found the creek almost out of blind habit, splashed right through it without paying heed to the icy water that soaked me to the thigh, and dragged my wet self up onto the opposite bank and scrambled up a bare-branched tree. There I sat, huddled and shivering, and at last gave my tumultuous thoughts free rein.

A Juunishi brother! I hadn't even given consideration to the possibility. I'd wanted someone to take my parents' focus off the fact that I was a cursed child, and now they'd been landed with another! I could guess this was not going to go over well. I felt desolation curling tightly in my chest. How was I to do all the things I had dreamed of doing with a brother if he was Juunishi as well, and sickly to boot?

However, on another level, I felt it was my duty to protect the child. My mother and father were certainly not going to care properly for him, and I could hardly stand by and let my own brother endure the same things I had. A Juunishi child, no less! Through my confusion, I had to admit that it would be nice to have someone besides Tori-san and Gure-san to share the trials of being a member of the zodiac from now on.

Subconsciously, and because I didn't want to think any further, I began to name off the Juunishi that had been born in this generation. There were Hatori and Shigure, and of course myself. Dragon, Dog, and Snake. That was three. Then there was little Kagura-chan, who'd been born only a year and a half before. What was she again? Oh, yes, the Boar. Four out of twelve… Wasn't there a rooster, too? Kureno. I didn't see him often. He made five. Who else? Was Ritsu-kun a Juunishi? Yes, he was, he was the Monkey. Six. Rin, she was the Horse, a few months younger than Kagura. Seven. Seven out of twelve. And my new brother made it eight…

My little mental roster made me realize that I didn't yet know what animal my brother was supposed to be. Another jolt of dread shook my much-battered nerves for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Dear God, he couldn't be the cat? I shuddered to think of the scorn and ridicule that he would undergo throughout his life if he had been possessed with the spirit of the cat. But no, I recalled, the cat had been born already, only about six months ago. I didn't remember his name. Keisuke? Keiji? No… Kyoji? Something of that sort. I breathed out in relief.

I continued to sit, watching the day pass through the branches of the tree. I was torn between going back to see about the baby, and just staying and avoiding the world till God decided to strike me with lightning. I snorted mentally at the thought—God?—or I would have, if I had been paying my thoughts enough conscious attention. My drenched pants and shoes, rather than drying, began to acquire a thin sheen of frost, but I didn't notice. I didn't notice when my legs became numb under the ice, nor when my face and hands became frozen at the harassment of the persistent, glacial wind. It was only when someone came looking for me that I came back to myself.

"Ayame-kun. What on earth are you doing up there?"

Blinking in surprise, I looked down. "What?"

"Come on down. You'll freeze."

"Hakuro-sama!"

"Hakuro-san," he corrected, his tone chillingly amused. I couldn't see him clearly through the tangle of tree limbs, and the way he was standing, coupled with the dusky twilight, served to keep his face in murky shadow. "I thought you might be here. Shigure-kun told me the trees by the creek are one of your favorite haunts."

I was both relieved and terrified, the familiar feeling churning in the pit of my stomach. Once more I had to mentally dissuade myself from running from the man—not that I could have even had I chosen to, in my current position. "I'm sorry," I said in bewilderment, hastening to scramble down. "I didn't realize so much time had gone by." It was already nearing dark.

I was perplexed for a moment when my legs wouldn't move, and then winced as I realized they were literally frozen to the branch.

"Boy, what's the delay? You really will freeze up there." He stepped to the base of the tree and tipped his head up further, exposing his features to the last glimmering ray of winter sun. When he saw my predicament, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. I'd never been so mortified. "Well, well. Looks like it's a little late for that. Did you perchance forget about the bridge? Or did it fall in? No, I suppose not, seeing as I crossed it on my way here."

"I'm sorry," I said in chagrin.

To my surprise, he reached up to help me. As I grasped his outstretched hand, I felt a jolt go through me and shivered. He really was a frightening man. But why? He was so thoughtful. I just hoped he would think my shaking was due to the cold and stiffly levered myself out of the tree.

Once on the ground, I could hardly bring myself to look him in the eye, but when I did, I saw that all traces of amusement were gone. His countenance was grave and stern once more. "Now, Ayame-kun. About why I've come for you…"

I noticed he was holding a bundle in the crook of one arm. That definitely got my attention. I stared as though hypnotized as the bundle stirred, and a feeble infantile cry came from within.

"M-my brother?" Why did I seem to forget how to speak when Hakuro-sama was near? As soon as the words slipped out I winced at my own stupidity for not thinking. My mother was home; of course my brother would be.

"Yes." Gently, he brushed a speck of dust off the blanket that swaddled the baby, and I stiffened when his hand neared the child. I was surprised that he would carry my brother out here. It didn't seem like the sort of thing he would do.

Without thinking, I reached out for the boy, and Hakuro let me take him. For some reason I didn't want my brother to be held by Hakuro-sama any longer than he had to be. My eyes were riveted to the baby's face as it moved fretfully, then stilled. He was tiny—all babies are, of course—but what concerned me was that he was unnaturally pale, not the healthy ruddiness of most infants, and rather than being wrinkled, his skin was like porcelain. I shyly reached to stroke his hair, of which he already had a few wisps. Silver. His hair was silver. And through his slitted eyelids I could glimpse a flash of dark purple, rather than the pale blue of normal newborns.

I looked up at the head of the household. Silver hair and purple eyes? "Rat?" I asked quietly.

"Yes. Your brother is the Rat."

I nodded silently and went back to looking intently into the boy's face. My breath showed, erratically clouding my view. I brushed at the clouds absently. He shouldn't be out in such cold. He was already fragile.

"You'll have to name him, you know."

Startled, my head snapped up. "Me? Why me?" shot out before I could stop myself. "I mean," I fumbled for words, "No disrespect, Sir, but you're the head of the family—and—my parents—"

"Your parents… are in no condition to care for the child at the moment."

I knew what he meant. I blinked stupidly for another few moments, then resigned myself. "So…" I sighed, the enormous responsibility of raising a brother on my own already seeming to crash down on my head. A name was a crucial thing in a person's life. And I, Ayame Sohma, who knew absolutely nothing about children, was supposed to name one?

Something white drifted past, and as it came from the corner of my eye into my line of vision I saw it was a snowflake. First snow of the year. Gure-san would be happy. I kept my gaze fixed on the minute crystalline flake until it had settled on the baby's equally pale forehead, and an unexpected smile came to my face. "Yuki."

"Hmm?" Hakuro-sama followed my gaze. "Oh, yes. Snow. Rather early in the year this time, I think."

"Yuki," I repeated, looking up.

"What?"

"I'll name him Yuki."

"Well, now…" his hand settled on my shoulder again. "You don't have to decide right this moment, Ayame-kun. A name is a big thing. You might want some time to…" Then he looked at me again, and seemed to think better of it. "Yuki. It's a fine name." He patted my shoulder once more, and strode away toward the lights of the houses, leaving me to receive the first snow of the year with my new brother. Now that I thought about it, it was the Year of the Rat. I decided to take it as a good omen.

Yuki Sohma, welcome to the family. It wasn't good for an infant to be out in the cold too long, especially this one. I went to look for Hatori and Shigure.

Chapter 1 End

Author's Note: Thanks to which I used for reference for the majority of facts I needed to write this fanfic.

Please excuse the incredibly corny ending! It's my first fanfiction to be posted. Tell me what you think!

Hope You Enjoyed!

Arcer