Hello! Just popping in with Chapter 2 of The Way Forward. Hope you enjoy! And thank you so much for the follows this past week. :D
Disclaimer: I don't own Fruits Basket.
Chapter 2: "How That Wrung the Heart"
Shigure wasn't accustomed to feeling... directionless. He wasn't the type of man to simply cast aside his thoughts and live in the present. He'd always had an agenda—a goal to strive for. And he was constantly searching for ways to get himself closer to that goal, no matter the cost.
He supposed some might refer to him as an opportunist—but most, once they got to know him, just settled for "selfish, entitled asshole."
Of course, it never bothered him. The opinions of other people didn't hold much weight, as far as he was concerned. He saw no shame in going after what he wanted. Although even he had to admit that after all the pain Yuki, Kyo, and Tohru went through, he felt just a little bit guilty.
And now, he was forced to accept the very real possibility that everything he'd done had been for nothing. He hated to admit it, but...
Maybe I'm facing consequences for my actions.
Now, however, wasn't the time to ruminate over such serious matters. Initially, he had every intention of ignoring everything Hatori said to him the other day—but the good doctor had managed to present him with an idea.
If he couldn't find the inspiration to write on his own, he would visit a location that had often helped him get in the right headspace. So that morning, he put on an actual pair of pants and a button-down shirt, and took a trip to the local library. He hadn't visited in months, so he hoped the change in scenery would help. Being surrounded by books always had a strange comforting effect on him.
As Shigure opened the door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of paper hit him immediately, and he felt at home. "Nothing better than being surrounded by thousands of books," he said to himself, smiling sweetly to the person at the front desk as he walked past. The dozens of aisles of books on every topic known to man called to him the way few other things did. Such a shame that it was impossible to read them all in a single lifetime.
Time passed steadily yet inconsistently as Shigure perused the shelves, occasionally removing a book only to flip through the pages and put it back. He was generally non-committal in his search, figuring he would know it if he came across what he needed—even if he wasn't entirely sure what that was.
"Is there something I can help you with?"
A soft, serene voice caught his attention, drawing him out from his thoughts. He turned away from the book in his hand to find a petite young woman standing in the aisle, a couple meters away. She regarded him with a smile that didn't reach her spectacled eyes, hands clasped behind her back. "I'm happy to be of assistance if I can."
Shigure decided to be polite and granted her a smile in return. "Appreciate the offer, but I think I'm okay for now," he said, carefully placing a book he had picked out back on the self.
The woman watched him silently and then said, "Okay—well, let me know." Her mid-length dark swished ever so slightly behind her as she turned around to head back down the aisle.
He had planned to simply scan the shelves on his own, but even he had to admit that would take him a lifetime. It was worth a shot.
"Actually," he said, prompting the woman to pause in her tracks. "Maybe there is something you can help me with."
She turned back around to face him with a curious and patient expression. "Sure thing. What is it?"
Shigure folded his arms across his chest thoughtfully. "I was trying to think up a suitable quote to use for inspiration in something I've been writing," he explained. "And while I was on the way here, something came to mind—but I can't for the life of me remember where it came from."
"I'm happy to try to help you identify it," she said.
And so quietly, he began to recite, "'To want and not have, sent all up her body a hardness, a hollowness, a strain. And then to want and not to have—to want and want—'"
"'How that wrung the heart,'" the woman interjected. "'And wrung it again and again.'"
Shigure then gave her a smile that was not calculated or forced. It happened all on its own. "You know it," he observed, impressed.
"Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse. 1927."
She said it like she was reading out of an encyclopedia—yet under the surface, he could hear in her voice an affection, and fondness, that she might have expressed to a loved one. Her eyes seemed to light up just a little bit as she lifted her hand to touch one of the shelves. "Luckily for you," she said, "We do have a copy at this location. And I happen to remember where it is. Want me to take you?"
"By all means."
"Follow me, then."
As they headed down the aisle and turned onto the next, Shigure walked close behind the woman and quietly asked, "Up until a few months ago, I frequented this place a lot. I don't remember seeing you though. Are you new?" She seemed extremely knowledgeable and competent for someone who just started working here, he thought.
"Um, yes and no," she replied. "I did some part-time work here while I was in school, but I didn't interact with the visitors much, so you probably wouldn't have seen me often. I just got my degree last year though, so I officially graduated to head librarian this spring. Neat, huh?"
He blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected the person he was talking to was the head librarian. "Wow, so you manage the inventory now. I guess poor old Mrs. Daidouji finally left it all behind, did she?"
The librarian's attention was split for a moment as she glanced between aisles, eyes searching for the section she wanted. "I believe this is the right one," she whispered after making a decision. He stopped next to her and watched her scan a few rows of books. While looking, she continued, "Yeah, I think she's living in retirement bliss right about now."
Shigure leaned back against the shelf behind him. "Well, good for her. She deserves it."
"Were you two well-acquainted?"
He shrugged. "I like to think so. We chatted. Sometimes I'd leave little notes for her when I'd return books, making jokes, letting her know what I thought. Although she never did like it when I'd swap books on the shelves or prank the staff."
Just as the librarian was placing her hand atop the book she wanted, she stopped and gave him a sidelong glance. "Oh," she said with a dry chuckle. "So you're that guy."
His smile widening, he observed, "Ah, you've heard of me after all."
She scoffed. "Yeah. Just so you know, if you try swapping any of my books while I'm in charge, I'll have you banned and I'll encourage every other library in the system to do the same."
Shigure placed a hand on his chest, pretending to be wounded. "Come now, it's all in good fun. I only did that once or twice."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe three or four times."
"Uh huh," she said. Then, pulling a book from the shelf, she added, "To the Lighthouse... This is what you're looking for."
Shigure held out his hand to take it, but much to his surprise, she pulled it out of reach at the last second. "Take care of this book," she told him firmly. "It's old, and it's one of my favorites."
He had to admit, she was quite a bit bolder and more stern than he expected upon first glance. Her gentle yet no-nonsense expression amused him, and all at once he came to the conclusion that he liked her quite a bit and would enjoy learning more about what made her tick.
Re-extending his hand, he said, a bit more seriously this time, "I take care of every book I read. You don't have to worry."
She studied his expression for a second or two, almost as though she was looking for some hidden deception. But it wasn't long before she was satisfied, and she carefully placed the book in his hand. He glanced down at it and turned it over, smiling at the old and faded cover.
"You said this is one of your favorites," he noted. "Literature fan, I take it?"
"Very much so," she said. "I studied a lot, both in and out of the classroom when I was in college. European, Asian, American, African... you name it. Obviously I haven't read everything out there, but I'm working my way up."
"Really? Sounds like my kind of woman."
He was being truthful, of course. There was only one person in the world he had ever been serious about, but he did find something particularly attractive about a well-read woman. And getting her reaction was completely worth it.
Under the warm library lights, Shigure could see the woman's flush red. But she resisted an obvious urge to avert her eyes. "You're, uh... pretty ballsy, aren't you?" she said with a small laugh. "Hitting on a librarian. In a library."
"Ha! Don't I know it."
She clenched her teeth together awkwardly and stepped to his side in an effort to get out in front of him. "Well, unfortunately for you, I'm not really in the market for a relationship..."
"Oh, neither am I," he clarified, causing her to turn back around. "I'm spoken for."
At that, she looked a bit taken aback, which amused him further. "Spoken for. And flirting with other women. Your girlfriend is so lucky to have you."
"Um, well—it's not exactly what you're thinking. It's more like... my heart is spoken for. If that makes sense to you."
She paused for a second, and her eyes seemed to soften. Then she glanced off to the side, as if she was trying to remember a long-forgotten memory. She was thoughtful—pensive. "Yeah, I think it does," she murmured. Then, with a sigh, she turned her attention back to him and asked, "All right, Mr. SpokenFor, are you looking for anything else? Can I help you check out?"
"Just this one for today, thanks," he said. "My real name is Shigure Sohma, by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Sohma," she replied warmly. "I'm Shiori Furukawa."
Shiori Furukawa liked order. She had a great appreciation for routine and attention to detail. These were traits she liked to think made her the right person for her job. Was she much of a people person? No, but she could fake it well enough. Her first job had been at a fast food joint downtown when she was 17—and her philosophy was that if she'd survived that pandemonium, she could do just about anything.
Still, it was a busy time of year, with the school semester in full swing and youngsters visiting the library on the regular. Shiori was hard at work putting together this year's summer reading program for the kids, and it was her first time having such a large role in the affair. Of course, if anyone had asked her if she felt nervous or overwhelmed, she would have given them a firm and steadfast, "Not a chance."
She was fine. Everything was fine.
"Miss Furukawa, I need your help checking out this customer."
"Miss Furukawa, there's a book from the Political Science section I can't account for."
"Miss Furukawa, one of the lights seems to be out on the second floor. Have you seen the Manager?"
"Miss Furukawa, I have an emergency. The Manager is out on break, so I was wondering if I could get you to let me run out early?"
Shiori, who was holed up in the back room organizing files at her private desk, glanced up and saw Ishida, one of the part-time technicians, wringing his hands together.
While she didn't want to pry, she was curious. After all, Ishida had never missed a shift or asked to leave early. "Are you okay?" she asked gently, figuring that was a safe enough question.
He nodded. "B-But I got a call at the front desk, and apparently my sister was in an accident."
In a situation like that, there was only one answer Shiori could give. Rising to her feet and immediately ushering him out, she said, "Well then, by all means! Go, go."
"I-I'm so sorry about this," he said in a frantic voice. "I'll make up the time, I promise."
"Don't worry about it," she commanded with a vague gesture in the direction of the door. "Just go and be with your family. I'll smooth things over with the Manager when she returns."
Ishida then bowed his head to her apologetically a few times before going to gather his belongings and scurrying out of the building. Having never met Ishida's sister a single time, Shiori felt rather detached from the situation—but her affection for the young and hard-working technician left her rattled nonetheless. And she had to force a smile onto her face as she made her way behind the front desk. The older but cheerier Esaki had taken over Ishida's post, it seemed.
Shiori waited patiently until Esaki finished checking out someone's book, and as they walked away, she whispered, "Sorry about this. I know your shift is almost over, so—"
"Actually, I was thinking," Esaki said, then smiled sheepishly when she realized she'd interrupted. "Eh, sorry. Um—but your lunch break is in a half hour, right? Why don't you go at your normal time and I'll stay here? I don't want the others to get overwhelmed."
Shiori shook her head. "It's sweet of you to offer, but unnecessary. Your shift runs until noontime, so that's when you leave. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. At least, I'm sure that's what manager Kitamura would say."
"You know that I think you work too much, Furukawa. You deserve your lunch hour."
"I like being here and I don't need anything more than that," Shiori insisted. "Go home at your usual time, and I will take care of the customers. Okay?"
Although Shiori technically wasn't in charge of the staff, they had a tendency to listen to her, nonetheless. Even Esaki, who arguably understood her the best, knew there was little point in pushing back once Shiori had made up her mind.
And so Esaki left on time, and Shiori picked up the slack caused by Ishida's absence for the next couple of hours. Luckily, upon her return, Manager Kitamura didn't seem to mind that she had let Ishida clock out early, given the circumstances—but she did give her some side eye for skipping her lunch break. Again.
Only after her shift was over that evening did Shiori finally break from her work headspace. She followed her usual routine, packing up and saying her goodbyes to the staff before heading out and making her way to the train station. It was a mild evening, the summer heat not yet upon them even though just about all the spring blossoms had already come and gone. The air was warm and calm, contrasting with the harsh sounds of evening traffic and the buzzing of voices on the streets. While it wasn't an overly populated area, this part of town often grew busy late in the day.
Shiori took the train back home in silence, hardly realizing she was operating on autopilot all the way to the front door of her apartment until she was there. She sighed and unlocked the door, only smiling when she was greeted with leg nuzzles and meow upon entering. The petite gray cat maneuvered back and forth between her legs as she attempted to close the door behind her. "Mei, come on, let me in," she complained with a small laugh that was halfway between amused and exasperated, while awkwardly lifting her foot to avoid stepping on the cat.
The eager feline meowed again. In response, Shiori threw down her bag and bent over to scratch Mei's face. "Yes, I'm home. I'm gonna feed you, okay?"
Moments later, Shiori did as promised and left the cat in the kitchen gobbling down her dinner. After changing out of her work clothes, her next step was to check the phone. Much to her disgust and dismay, she had three messages from Abe, which she deleted promptly.
"Why won't this guy just leave me alone?" she mumbled to herself. At this point, she regretted ever giving the man her number. She supposed it would be possible to have it changed, but then she would have to notify everyone she knew. And it seemed like such a hassle.
Because she didn't want to give the issue more time and attention than it deserved, Shiori deleted the messages from Abe. But there was one more she hadn't checked.
It was from her brother.
Immediately, she suspected she knew why he had called. And she wasn't sure that she wanted to call him back. But God, it had been so long since she last spoke to him.
With a gulp, Shiori reached for the keys on the phone. Then she stopped and pulled the device away from her ear. She resented her heart for racing over something some small—so trivial. Had she really reached this point, where the thought of even speaking to her family produced such anxiety?
She refused to stand for it.
So Shiori took a deep breath and swallowed her discomfort, quickly dialing her brother's number and placing the phone back against her ear. The phone on the other end of the line rang one, two, three times, which seemed to her a small eternity, before someone finally picked up. "Uh, hello?"
She recognized her brother's low, gruff voice immediately. "Hi, Keiji!" she said—maybe a little too enthusiastically. "It's me."
"Oh, hi," he said with a sigh. She couldn't tell over the phone whether he was happy to hear her voice or not.
"Um, I got your message," Shiori replied. "Sorry, I was at work all day. I'm working full-time at the library now, so..."
"Oh, yeah? Good for you. I know how much you wanted that."
She let out a tiny laugh, finding herself pleased to hear his approval. Some things never changed, she supposed. Despite being two years his senior, she had lived for his smiles and his praise since they were children. There was a time, in fact, when she admired him more than anyone.
Now, they were hardly part of each other's lives.
"Anyhow," Shiori said, clearing her throat. Damn, she didn't understand why awkward situations always made her feel compelled to do that. Perhaps she had watched too many films. "I'm sure you also had a busy day. I'm surprised you called."
"I was in the office for most of the day But I didn't want to miss wishing you a Happy Birthday. Congrats, you're a full quarter of a century old. Your knees still working?"
And just like that, her discomfort dissipated and she found herself laughing. "Oh, real nice," she chortled, "You called just to accuse me of being old?"
She could hear a gentle smile in Keiji's husky voice as he spoke. "Well, what else would I call for?"
"Oh, you're right. My mistake. You're such an ass."
"Yeah, yeah."
Shiori's laughter died down and she shook her head softly. They both knew she was never one to be self-conscious about her age. But he never could resist the the urge to tease her, even over the smallest things. She didn't mind it, however—it made her feel some sense of normality, of companionship.
"Just remember, you're not getting any younger either and you'll catch up before you know it," she said.
"Yeah, but the good news is that you'll always be older than me, so in 50 years, I can still call and make fun of your age."
She tapped the moulding on the wall with her foot. The thought made her squirm. Was this still what she could expect her life to be like in another 50 years?
"Maybe by then we'll at least live closer to one another," she said in a weak voice.
Silence.
After a few seconds, she chanced to ask, "Not to bring down the mood too much, but have you talked to Mom?"
Keiji gave her a grunt. "Have I? Sis, you could reach her by train in what, 20 minutes?"
"You're well aware she doesn't want anything to do with me," Shiori mumbled. That moment, she regretted taking a generally lighthearted conversation and turning it into an unpleasant one. But for some reason, she just couldn't help herself. Maybe it was just sentimentality, or an inability to let go of the past. But she thought of her Mother daily, even if she didn't have the guts to pay a visit or pick up the phone to call. "I was just wondering if you had heard from her and she seemed okay."
He sighed, sounding very much like he didn't want to discuss it. "Yeah, I talked to her sometime last week, I think. She seems fine—judgy as usual. You know."
"Keiji," Shiori said with a reproachful sigh.
"What?" he asked. "I know you think it even if you don't say it. In fact, you probably know it better than anyone."
Shiori could practically feel her blood pressure start to rise, and that was precisely what she needed to avoid this evening. "Let's just not go there," she said, crouching down to her knees and leaning against the desk. "She was her usual self, though? Healthy? Happy?"
Keiji sounded tired as he spoke. "I don't know about happy, but she talked about work gossip and about doing some yard work for an elderly neighbor, so I assume she's in good shape."
She knew it was pointless—perhaps even wasted—but she felt some sense of relief wash over her when she heard this. Even if she was too afraid to march up to her Mother's door herself, she wanted to know she was safe and thriving somewhere. Rather... she needed it.
"I'm really happy to hear that, Keiji," she said, smiling. "Thank you." Then, in a quieter voice, she added, "You know, I was thinking—it's been a while. We ought to get together sometime. Meet up, or you could visit, or vice versa. I know it's expensive, but we could make it work... I miss you."
Pause.
"Yeah, I miss you too, Sis. I, uh... I don't know about right now, but I think we could work something out. Maybe over the summer, you think?"
She brightened up and straightened her spine at the encouraging sound in his voice. "Yes, that would be great! I'll see about lining up a few vacation days in July or August."
"I don't know if we'd have the time or money to do anything fun..." he said.
"It doesn't matter," she insisted. It didn't make a bit of difference. All she cared about was seeing family. It had been far too long.
With a laugh, he said, "All right, well, let's see what we can do. Listen, I have to let you go. But we'll talk it over in the next week or two. Sound good?"
Shiori grinned. "You bet."
"In the meantime, don't overdo it at that new job. You always work too much, Sis."
I've heard that one before.
"Talk to you later, Keiji," she replied. "Love you."
"Love you too."
She hung up. And suddenly, the world was quiet again—but somehow, it seemed just a little bit brighter. She couldn't have asked for a better Birthday present.
Still, as Shiori made her way back into the kitchen and absentmindedly started looking through the cabinets for something edible while Mei circled her feet, her mind floated back to simpler times. When her family had been whole and she was confident in her dreams. She longed to see those days revived, as irresponsible and selfish a wish as it may have seen.
"'How that wrung the heart,'" she whispered to herself. "'And wrung it again and again.'"
Suddenly, the image of the tall, dark-haired man she met in the library earlier that day entered her mind. Despite the icy gaze disguised by his deceptively playful smile, he had taken that book from her hands with such care and thoughtfulness. He'd caressed the binding as though it were something very precious—irreplaceable.
Her first impression of him had been that he was the type of man parents warned their daughters about. Yet, she thought she saw in him a glimpse of a kindred spirit. Someone she might not mind sharing her secrets with, even after just meeting him.
"Shigure Sohma," she muttered, turning her attention out the kitchen window and onto the street. "I wonder if he's reading it right now..."