Title: Not Like Them
Fandom: Fruits Basket
Characters: Ritsu
Words: 463
Notes: I love Ritsu. XD This is about the only fifteen minute ficlet that I have actually written in fifteen minutes.
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Ritsu tried to move unthreateningly through the university crowd, eyes lowered, books clutched close against his chest so that he mightn't lose them when he inevitably collided with someone; he was so clumsy, so clumsy, he could hardly bear to be here at all. Why did he even bother? His grades were appalling when compared to the marks of most of his cousins... he clutched his books closer, until they pressed at him uncomfortably even through the delicate layers of his furisode. Truly, he was unforgivable...
Deep within his gloomy thoughts, Ritsu did not notice the sudden shape of a person directly in front of him; the impact sent the books spilling from his arms. His face fell, and he pressed his hands to his mouth, horrified, as the stranger's books also went flying out of the crook of his arm.
"Oh...! Oh, please, forgive me - I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was--"
Ritsu was startled to find himself the recipient of a grin. A wide, possibly American grin, from a boy with impossibly spiky yellow hair, who knelt and started to retrieve Ritsu's books before his own, holding them up in front of him like an offering.
"Hey, pretty. Sorry about that; totally my fault. Are these all you were carrying?" His Japanese was terribly informal; his accent was obvious even through the well-learned language. The blond paused, glanced down at the ground, and carefully scooped the contents back into Ritsu's pencil case. "Here ya go." Another carefree grin, and he began, flippantly, to gather his own things. Ritsu nearly dropped his own again as he knelt to help.
"I'm sorry - please, let me help!" He stuttered, not bothering to correct the American's assumption that he was female; he was dressed like it, after all. But the American beamed at him, impossibly carefree, and waved him off.
"No way. Pretty thing like you shouldn't be down on the ground like this." He grabbed an armful of his books and then took Ritsu's hand in a surprisingly gentle grip, tugging him inexorably to his feet. "I've got a free hour or so, but I bet you're on your way to a class. Maybe I'll see you around."
He gave a small wave and walked away, head and shoulders above the considerably shorter Japanese crowd. Ritsu watched him go, arms trembling slightly as he held his books close to him. He stood there until he couldn't see the American any more, not even his spiky hair, and let out a breath he hadn't quite noticed he'd been holding.
Then, summoning his courage, he clutched his books ever tighter and started to run - fascinating as the American was, he really would be late to his lecture.
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