AN: For dedication, disclaimer, etc., see the first chapter. Wow, I think I really don't have anything to say here for once. Oh, no, wait, one thing. The "dimly aware that I must look like a dead flower to Gure-san…" thing isn't just recycled, it's meant to hearken back to Yuki's rag doll thought in For Their Hearts. Involution, I'm a fan. There was a lot of it in that fic, come to think of it…

One more thing – I know that first Yuki and Kyo and then another person skip out on New Year's without too much, y'know, death, but I'm chalking that up to Tohru's influence and Akito's loosening grip. Thus the references to skipping being out of the question here, a year earlier.

Disclaimer: All of it's Takaya Natsuki's. Or Natsuki Takaya's, depending on which continent you're on.

Dedication: Remains the same throughout. She deserves more. If you haven't read Katia-chan's stuff you're missing out on some of the best Furuba fanfics there are.

I may leave a great impression

As I race through a succession

Of the latest crazes, chase the newest fads

I feel better when beguiling

Find that fashion keeps me smiling

But in my heart I know

It's rather sad…

- Amneris, Aida, "My Strongest Suit (Reprise)"

Chapter Two

Present

I don't quite know how to feel about New Years.

I know how to act, of course. I know how to act about everything. But how to feel…

I love it. I love the festivity and crowds and the happiness. The feelings of Christmas and Halloween all rolled up into one big holiday.

I hate it. I hate this cage of a family, that none of us have a choice but to come. Any family member must ask Akito's permission to be absent, but we juunishi needn't even bother. Even the question could have extremely unsavory results.

So it's nice to know, at least, how to act.

Exactly as I always do.

"Akito-sama!" His doors are open, likely because the stream of genuflectors has made closing them more of an inconvenience than anything else, so I fly through them without breaking pace until I collapse at his feet in a swirl of blue cloth. "I apologize abjectly for being late, I know I said I'd be here at two but the shop simply would not –"

"Ayame."

I look up and beam hopefully, knowing those black eyes won't have in anger in them. Not towards me, not today.

True to expectation, Akito is watching me with exasperated puzzlement. "And I brought your flowers!" I add, tongue set free by his lack of fury, whisking out the scarlet bouquet and holding it up for him.

He reluctantly takes the roses and gardenias, running his fingers through them. "Why do you find it so difficult to simply arrive on time?" He asks wearily.

"Oh, I don't find it difficult!" I reply happily. "It just never happens. Something always seems to come up. But you're not angry, are you? Not with someone contrite as me?"

A reluctant smile tugs at his lips, and he waves his hand in dismissal. "You may go prepare yourself. And Ayame –" I stop in the doorway, having flung myself to the exit with the enthusiasm I give to everything (no more, no less, because that simply wouldn't do), "thank you for the flowers."

I drop another bow and smile. "You are most humbly welcome, Akito-san."

I walk away happy that he liked them.

We both know I hate him as much as I love him, that I avoid him most of the year and try harder than any of them to blame him and hate us both when I can't.

And none of it matters. Not today.

I barrel my way into Tori-san's office a few minutes later, having wended my way through the obstacle course of servants and guests in the hallways.

"Haa-saaaan," I call, swinging myself around the door, "Is the doctor in?"

"Hello, Ayame," he says wearily.

"Tori-san, are you overflowing with effulgence to see me? You are, aren't you?" I throw my arms around from behind before he can finish shelving his book.

"Ecstatic," he says with emotion that passes zero into negative numbers.

"I know, I know! So, why are you not dressed up yet? Ah, you want my help, of course! I will help you to find the perfect outfit!" I clasp my hands, imagining him in an outfit befitting his majesty. Of course, he will by requirement wear something special, and he always looks wonderful regardless, but something truly… Well, I could design something really perfect for my Ha-san.

"No."

"Ooh…Tori-san…"

He deigns to turn and instantly shakes his head. "I don't like that tailor's gleam in your eye."

"But Ha-san would make such a great model…"

"No."

Before my poignant lamentations can begin to ring forth, the door bursts open yet again and our curly, blond rabbit leaps in, resplendent in traditional dress robes.

"Ha'ri, would you come – Aya-nii!" He squeals, spotting me and throwing himself into my arms.

"Momitchi-kun!" I exclaim, catching him and lifting him above my head. "How you've grown!"

I stagger, realizing abruptly that it's a fourteen-year-old I've hoisted into the air, and prepare to allow gravity to reassert itself.

Undoubtedly, we would have ended up in a heap on the floor, but Tori-san reaches around from behind, catching my torso between his arms and Momitchi in his hands. Momitchi-kun, of course, is chortling fit to burst. "Ha, mein nii-sans! I grew too much for you!"

"You did indeed, Momitchi-san," I agree, as he is lowered gently to the ground. "And, aside from your newly-affirmed prodigious height, you've given Aya-nii a rare and precious gift!"

"I have, I have? What is it?" Huge brown eyes blink innocently up at me.

"Ha-san has embraced us of his own volition!" I cry, twirling in the arms only just dropping away to kiss his cheek. "A beauteous gift indeed!"

Ha-san gives one of his huffy little sighs, stepping back and leaning against his desk. "Stop exaggerating."

"Ah, but it's true!" I reproach. "Isn't it, Momitchi-kun?"

"Ja, Ha'ri! You're awful compared to Aya-nii and Shii-chan!" The little boy chortles gleefully.

"Well, compared to them," Tori-san says as if this makes it all right.

"And everyone else," I insist. "Even Rit-chan is more affectionate than you!"

Hatori sighs the sigh of one who has suffered long and will suffer longer, then steps forward and catches me around the waist and by the hand. He whisks me around once in half of a dance, dips me backward, and sets me upright again.

Before I can comprehend what's happened, he's stepped away and is lighting a cigarette with an air of satisfaction.

At our doubtless identical shocked expressions, he says, "What? A fair trade, isn't it? Now neither of you call me out for lack of physical affection until the next New Year."

"Done," I manage, grabbing the cigarette and stubbing it out in his ashtray.

Don't think. He didn't mean it that way and you of all people should know it.

"What did you want?" He adds, looking to Momitchi after glaring after his lost poison. He really must be under a great deal of pressure.

"Oh – yes! Kisa's nervous about her dance and we thought maybe you could say something to her about how good she'll be only you're very busy so she didn't want to bother you and then I found her and her robes had a tear and they were getting fixed, but Haru poked his finger on a pin, but it isn't bad, but we thought that you could come and tell Kisa how incanting she looks."

Ha-san stares in awe at this breathtaking display of nonstop chatter, but luckily he has a lifetime of experience with it and recovers quickly. "Enchanting, you mean," he corrects absently while checking his watch with those glowing purple eyes, one dulled and milky but no less beautiful. "And yes, I'll see to Hatsuharu-kun's… ah… cut."

"Yay! And you, and you, Aya? You'll come too, won't you? You'll be able to mend the tear better anyway, so that it's perfect, right?"

"Of course," I say, grateful for the distraction. "Aren't you fortunate to have such chivalrous cousins!"

Momitchi-chan's face splits into his heartbreakingly cheerful grin and he grabs my arm, dragging me away with a strength that makes me ponder jumping into his arms next time. "Ja, we're so lucky!"

Ten Years Earlier

I walk quickly through the back gardens, shivering. It's cold, and while the robes for the dance I've recently performed are beautiful, they aren't terribly practical for wandering about at night in the winter.

Still, I was good. I know that instinctively. Yes, I was good at both dances.

I can see their faces… Akito's, entranced and then, when I was done, approving. I dislike him, hate how Gure-san's eyes rarely left him the entire time, but something inside of me finds peace only in that look.

Toshio's, red and sweating and ecstatic. I was good at that too. Probably I shouldn't have tried finding out right before the banquet, when I'd be alternately sitting and dancing for hours, but…

"Hey, Aya." He's there, waiting. Tall, thin, with short black hair, bangs, and purple-blue eyes. "Wow. Some outfit." He kisses my nose. "You look fabulous."

"Yes, I know." I flip my hair back over my shoulder, grinning. "But you may continue to praise me."

He smiles faintly, and may actually have done so, but I add, "Actually, Toshio-kun, we need to talk."

He laughs just a little. " 'We need to talk?' Now that sounds ominous. Sort a clichéd breakup line, isn't… it…" I look up at him expectantly and his expression fades to disbelief. "You're not… Are you serious? But we just –"

"Shared a beautiful and intimate experience which each of us will treasure all of our lives!" I finish, clasping my hands. "The sweet memory will remain long after our relationship has ended, and naturally I will always hold a special place in your heart –"

"Stop." His lips look numb. "Before you actually offer to still be friends. Aya, I don't understand. Why are you doing this? Is it Akito-san?"

"Ah, Toshio-kun, let us not dwell on –"

"No." He steps closer, grabbing my arms and holding too tight. "Tell me why you're doing this. I thought… I thought you were happy with me."

I sigh. I had hoped to avoid unpleasantness; people act so oddly sometimes. "I was." I wasn't. "You were wonderful, a dream come true." You couldn't know I wasn't; I never let you in. "But that was then. I think we would both benefit from moving on." I never even noticed you were there.

I know my tone is careless, but I don't care. That's the whole problem.

I don't care.

His fingers tighten on my arms until they truly hurt, and he doesn't notice any more than I deigned to notice his pain. Then he steps back, releasing me.

His lips move soundlessly, and then finally he says, "Oh."

And he walks away.

There, that's done.

I don't cry until I'm back in my room at the Main House.

But I should know better than to think I'll get away with it alone.

Dimly aware that I must look like a dead flower to Gure-san, crumpled, flowing robes and hair tangled around my fetal position on the bed, I wait. It becomes apparent that he's not going to leave.

Through my tears, ashamed of my puffy eyes and refusing to look up, I grate, "What."

"Ooh, nothing. Ebullient Aya is sobbing, rumpling a magnificent piece of clothing and mussing his hair while he's at it, but nothing, really. No 'what.'"

He crawls onto the bed beside me, smoothing my hair away so that he can find my face. And lie there without pulling it.

The protective cloud of silver dissipates as he tucks it behind my ears and snuggles down to lie facing me, lifting my chin. "Come on, Aya-chan. Tell me?" He coaxes with puppy-eyes.

"…I broke up with Toshio," I hedge.

"Ah?" His expression never changes, his silence forcing me to continue speaking.

"I dumped him," I add, and can't keep going.

"But we both know Aya didn't really give a fig for that rather less than intelligent, if perfectly sweet, boy, so why is Aya so upset?"

"I…" I bury my face in my hands before it crumples where he can see it, tears starting again. "I screwed up." Gure-san stays silent, stroking my hair. "I just… this stupid festival, and I have to be happy and not mess up the dance and try not to embarrass Mother… it was just a lot of pressure, and being with Toshio… it felt good, and it was relieving, so we just didn't stop where, you know, we usually did…"

My words are jumbled, edges grinding, not flowing as they should. And I know I look awful.

Why is he still here?

"Aya…" Shigure sighs. "I love you. I will always love you."

"What? Gure-san… I'm a slut. I proved them right. Mother and Father, they were right. I don't care about him, I enjoyed it but it wasn't… and, my first time, I always though it would be –"

"Ha-san!" Gure cuts across, and my stomach twists. "Look who's here."

"You did tell me to – Ayame?"

No, not him!

I can't say anything, I just concentrate on not crying, but it only gets harder and I'll just get gasps if I keep it up.

"What's wrong?"

I've even made Tori-san worry.

Through my fingers, I see Gure-san's hand lift, middle finger raised, as he sits to face our friend.

"What did I do?" Tori-san protests blankly.

And I'm glad he's worried, worried for me.

"Ha-san, you do know what that means?" Gure-san replies, horrified.

"It means something specific?"

I'm shameless.

"It symbolizes something. You're going to be a doctor, Ha-san, figure it out."

"Oh." A beat. "Oh."

I'm a whore and a cruel one and he won't even hate me, he's so… god, he has to now though, he's so conservative and…

"Were you safe?"

"Wh – what?" I finally sit upright, keeping my tear-stained, splotchy face locked behind my fingers.

"Did you use protection? And, forgive me for making assumptions about the dynamics of a relationship I know very little about, were you hurt?" He sounds so calm.

I pry my cover away and force myself to meet his eyes, force him to meet mine.

He looks concerned. Not angry, not disgusted, not even surprised… though, why he should be…

I start laughing, semi-hysterically.

I tell myself it's only semi, at any rate.

"We were safe. And I'm fine." Mostly. "And I dumped him. He was meaningless."

"I'm sorry." He steps closer, hands in his pockets. "But if he didn't mean anything, why are you crying?"

"I… I don't know…"

Gure-san puts a hand on my shoulder. "He thinks he's wonton. A slut, I believe the phrase was."

Ha-san sits slowly down on my other side. "…"

They can't say I'm not. They can't know, can't prove it, can't change me or anything else.

It's not as if this is a new thing, really. I've been doing everything but it since I was thirteen or fourteen. But that was usually with Gure-san, and as long as I didn't actually have sex I could tell myself Mother was wrong, even if the line was thin to the point of laughable…

Gure-san puts an arm around me and leans my head on his shoulder, and Ha-san puts his arm around me from the other side, saying, "We love you, Ayame."

"You better believe it," Gure agrees, running his fingers through my hair.

So they can't change anything. So I might be proving Mother right.

So I can't change anything, and I'm proving Akito-san right and so are they.

"Aya… I love you. I will always love you."

I do care. I care about them.

I loop my arms around them both.

"I do believe."

AN: Review! Review! Beautiful, wonderful reviews.

Ah – I know Ayame can actually pick Yuki up, but I'm figuring the angle was wrong with Momiji. Why? Because it works better that way. I'm so ashamed, but yes.

And since Aya's up early, Ha-san'll be up this weekend instead.