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direction
“Haru… Haru!” Haru turns around. Yuki’s fallen behind again-- and not just by a few steps, but by many.
“Yuki!”
“I can’t-- I can’t breath…”
Karate has made him stronger, but he knows it’s not just his new techniques that makes it so easy to carry Yuki. The bones pressing into his back are sharp, almost painful, particularly around his shoulder blades. Yuki’s chin pokes in the crook between Haru’s neck and shoulder.
Haru doesn’t complain. Shifting Yuki a bit, he carries on.
“Haru, are we there yet?”
“Almost, just a bit further.”
Yuki nodded and placed his head back on Haru’s shoulder. His bony chin dug into Haru’s shoulder but he didn’t complain. He didn’t know how to criticize Yuki.
As light as Yuki was-- as light as one of the birds Akito kept in his cages, or maybe more like the feathers from their remains-- and as often as Haru snuck in snacks to stop Yuki from looking so much like a near-faded away ghost, snacks that Yuki would thank him for but never eat, Haru was only so strong. But he had to keep going. He shifted Yuki’s weight on his back, and concentrated on taking one step, and then the next.
He didn’t mean to run away from Akito because that would be crazy. Akito would find them before long or their own guilt would force them to return, but the occasional ‘vacation’ from the Sohma commune made Yuki’s sanity last that much longer.
Lately Yuki would stare off at the walls, even when Haru was there to talk. He wasn’t even impressed by the new karate moves that used to get him so excited. Haru didn’t know what Akito did to Yuki, he was too scared (scared of what he didn’t know but there he was, terrified) to ask.
“We’re almost there, Yuki.”
“Okay.”
Haru didn’t know where to go.
sisters, sort of
The problem with fucking someone you've known your whole life is that they know you too well.
Kagura, three years older, should have been the mature one of the relationship. She should have been the pants-wearer, the one in charge, the one behind the wheel. As the elder she should have been looked at with respect. At the very least she should have the bigger set of boobs.
Yet all these distinctions, and more, belonged to the younger one. Rin had the smoky sensuality that pulled all eyes to her in the room, she had the swagger that made her butt twitch-twitch-twitch beneath those fantastically tight skirts, she had all the sensuality and appeal and the power.
Kagura? Kagura was cute. Looked and acted like a thirteen-year old.
They weren't friends, Kagura didn't think. It bewildred her that two people so physically intimate could be so separate. Rin was loath to reveal any personal information. Rin was a mystery, locked and sealed in an intricate maze. Kagura had already given up on understanding the girl; any attempts left her dizzy, if not hurt. Rin had a tendency to bite anybody that came to near to her truth. Kagura now kept her distance.
Oh, but while Rin was an enigma, Kagura was an exhibition in a museum. Her emotions were laid bare for Rin too look over and critiscize, and critiscize Rin did. Kagura wished she could have kept something secret, but it was against her nature. Lying does not come easily to a boar, the emotions rise to the surface too quickly. Like how she half-hated laying there as Rin efficiently tossed aside her clothing, Kagura hated having no secrets. It left her far too bare. If only she had a lie or two to serve as a scrap of clothing.
Rin had no qualms giving out opinions. "Your love for Kyou is hopeless," "you look like crap in that dress. Try dressing your age for once," "I know you could control those temper rages if you wanted to. You're just too spoiled," "stop pretending you care, you're really a selfish bitch." Sometimes Kagura had to fight clawing off Rin's face. But what would the violence accomplish? It'd only prove Rin's point.
They were meant to be like sisters.
presence
When he's asleep, shut off to the world, Rin doesn't feel so guilty about watching him. This way she's not a bother, or a weight pulling him down. He's off in his own subconscious, dreaming of who knows what (maybe, possibly, of her?), and that she sits next to him, smiling fondly, it won't make a difference to him.
Right here, on the back of his neck, there's a small crop of short hair, shorter than the scuzzy rest. It's black, and soft. When they were younger, and the jyunishi kids were still into teasing each other, they managed to make fun of even that: it's fur, they said. Haru has fur on his neck. Touching that spot is grounds for Haru to go ballistic. Well, for anyone except Rin. If it's Rin running her fingers along there, he closes his eyes and smiles. She does so now; she can't resist it. It's just so soft. Haru smiles, which prompts Rin to grin as well.
She's needy, and she knows it. If she let herself she'd never let Haru away from her side, she'd constantly have the warm comfort of his hand in hers. It is love that her binds her to him, but it is even more love that prevents her from doing so. There is so little she can do for him. She wishes there were more. Haru does not look like a boy that needs protecting. Yet beyond the piercings, the maniacal laughter, and the middle finger that pops up so often it might as well not bother going down, Rin knows that he's as fragile as an origami crane. She dreams of donning a sword and a suit of steel to slice down all that would harm him.
But that's a silly fantasy. One that won't come true. So, instead, she strokes the back of his head some more, enjoying his unconscious smile.
where they came from
Tohru laughed. "But, Momiji-kun, you really have grown so much these past couple of months. I don't think I'd recognize you without the hair!"
"And the back-pack," Haru pointed out.
"Eheh," Momiji grinned, and it was a bit odd for such a childish expression to be on a man's face like that. "I'm growing up all at once. I've had to buy two different sets of outfits already, and I think I'll have to get a third. See?" He extended his arms, showing how the cuff of his shirt didn't reach his wrists.
"T, three new sets of clothes?!" Tohru nearly fainted from the thought of all that money.
"It's not so bad! I'll just be tight on cash for a while." Momiji wrinkled his nose. "But it's kinda fun to do all that shopping."
"Hasn't Kyou-kun been through a growth-spurt lately too...?" Haru wondered.
"Yes, he had to get a new unifo-- oh! Momiji-kun!" Tohru's face lit up. "We were going to donate Kyou-kun's old clothes to charity, but I bet they'd fit you! Would you like to have them?" She beamed, proud to have come up with this brilliant solution.
"O, okaay... you don't think he'd mind?"
"No, I don't think so." Tohru reached out for Momiji's hand. "Let's go ask him."
And that is how Momiji ended up with Kyou's pants.
no right answer
“Tori-san, do these pants make me look fat?”
“From what I understand, it’s best to never answer that question.”
Ayame rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking if I AM fat, I’m asking if I LOOK fat.”
my only sunshine
The Sohma commune is usually a somber place. Though most of its occupants are normal individuals living normal lives, a handful are especially miserable, and those miserable few set the mood.
Today was different.
“You are my sunshine~”
Shigure looked up from his textbook and at Hatori. “Isn’t that Aaya-kun?”
“My only sunshine~“
Hatori grimaced. “Not for long it won’t be.”
“You make me happy~”
“Aaya-kun! What’s up?”
“Gure-kun! Tori-san! Look, look how splendid!” Ayame thrust a large white object at them. “This will change my-- nay, THOUSANDS of lives!”
“A sewing machine?” Asked Hatori.
His sarcasm was lost on Ayame, who nodded, clutched the machine close to his heart again, and resumed skipping about. “You are my sunshine~”