Notes: To Sephy, for prodding me into posting this, and to Gaki, obviously, for the birthday. ^^ This is not the most technically proficient thing I've ever written, but you have to love that crack pairing. XD Home A Fruits Basket Fanfiction by Amet Call me a child, call me naive The world is much brighter Than it ever used to be -Duncan Sheik, Home It was strange how things changed. Hatsuharu had always thought that he would be the last to leave Sohma house, if only because he had little chance of finding his way back again if cousin Akito demanded his presence. He'd set himself to the idea of living out his days beneath the malevolent eye of the family head, commiserating with his similarly afflicted family members and enjoying what freedom was his when he was allowed to attend the same outside school with Kyou and Yuki. It seemed that his entire life had been planned out for him, the doltish cow amidst more cunning animals, and he had allowed them that delusion, protesting in near silence by at least assuring that he was as different from his family members as they had always made him feel with his half-dozen piercings and grungy outfits. But he'd been one of the first to leave the compound for good, without the constant fear of rescinding that dragged Kyou and Yuki and Shigure back to perform their duties to their tyrannical cousin, wandering off in search of consolation after his parents' sudden death brought him more isolation in their ancestral home than he could bear. He'd left as soon as he was old enough to pursue his studies, transferred an application to a university in Kyoto and just... never looked back. It seemed that once he had defied Akito, he was wiped from the family record, at least insofar as the others were allowed to admit. He hadn't heard anything from his relatives at all except for a few letters from Momiji stuffed into care packages from Honda Tohru, and those were usually so falsely happy they were enough to make him sick at heart. But he'd never returned, unwilling to face Akito's wrath--if the older boy gave a damn at all anymore--and risk making his cousins' situations that much worse by tripping on a raw nerve. It was enough to be free, to throw himself into his studies and then his work, using his time in the outside world to build a life apart from the jyuunishi and the curse. Of course, he had only really ever managed the most perfunctory of relationships with his peers, as there never seemed to be an appropriate moment to tell people to whom he'd grown close that he had an unfortunate habit of turning into a cow when under pressure, but he told himself he was happy. Walking back onto the family compound exposed that for the bald faced lie it had been. Tohru had been there to greet him, babbling in that kind, motherly way of hers about the weather, about the food she'd prepared and how happy everyone would be to see him, about Kyou and Yuki and how their relationship seemed to have mellowed the redhead to an unbelievable extent. Just seeing her for five minutes was enough to bring every deep thought he'd ever had rushing back, the honest concern and affection enough to draw him back into his old life without a faltered step. He'd seen Kyou next, taller and brawnier than he had been in high school and though he seemed to have developed a slightly keener sense of tact, he wasn't shy about using his physical advantage to intimidate Hatsuharu, who at twenty-five was taller, but still as willowy as he had ever been. Kyou's gruff needling was a comfort as well, proving at least that he had still had a place in Kyou's world if the older man was willing to be an ass. He hadn't expected the letter, not really, and when it arrived one morning amongst a plethora of bills and junk mail, formally lettered on expensive, official stationary, it'd taken him nearly an hour to will himself to open it. It was written by hand, in Yuki's meticulous script that he recognized even years after being in a position to borrow class notes he'd been too lazy to take himself, informing him of Akito's long expected demise and formally requesting that he return for the funeral. There was a note attached, written on obnoxiously garish pink and green paper that read; 'Come home, Haru.' So he'd come, managing to find his way to his old home inside of two days by some miracle of fate, because he'd never been unable to say no to that stupid rabbit and it was the most honest thing his cousin had said to him in years. And he remembered all the years of clinging to Momiji, bound together by their similar age at least as it propelled them into the same classes and forced them to get to know one another beyond the stereotypes attached to their animal forms, remembered with an almost painful clarity the look on Momiji's face when he announced his intention to leave. He didn't honestly know what to expect from their reunion. They entered the great hall, and Yuki was up off his chair in an instant, striding over in that fluidic way of his that had always made Haru wonder if there wasn't a little too much of the animal in him. He smiled, which was a startling sight for all its attractiveness, and reached out to clasp Hatsuharu's hand. "Haru," he murmured and that softly sibilant voice was almost painfully familiar. "It's good to see you again." Hatsuharu had to smile at that, watching his cousin trade conspiratorial glances with Tohru and Kyou, looking for all the world like every weight had been lifted from his still painfully lithe frame, Atlas without his burden. He rolled his eyes and smiled, ducking his head to study his shoes against the polished surface of the floor. "All right, where is he?" Tohru laughed, fairly running from the room, and Hatsuharu grinned as Kyou cleared his throat nervously and bounced onto the balls of his feet, shuffling around to stand next to his...lover, Hatsuharu decided to call them. It was a nice word. He fought the urge to be an ass and lost, winking at Kyou when Yuki turned away to deal with a servant, gratified to see the redhead blush and puff up in challenge. He supposed they half expected him to be jealous, to throw some half-assed tantrum and insist that Yuki throw the farce of a relationship away, but honestly with the way those two had been going at it since high school he was glad they'd finally gotten it over with and admitted to themselves what the rest of the family had known for years. He'd been out of the loop far too long to know exactly when it had happened, but he knew they'd have a much easier time together without Akito's specter looming over their relationship like the emotional incubus he was. He was all for that. There had been too many things unsaid between them all. Kyou was still bristling when Yuki turned his attention back, brow furrowing slightly as his gaze shifted between them. Finally, he shrugged, shaking his head and moving to lean against Kyou, placating the redhead as Hatsuharu fought the urge to laugh, shifting towards the door just in time to see Tohru reenter with a slightly taller figure in tow. He wasn't really prepared for what he saw when the boy came closer, though he had no idea why, it wasn't like he hadn't predicted that Momiji would grow up to be attractive years ago. He was much taller, probably had an inch or two on Hatsuharu himself and thin, but not as delicate as Yuki. The hair, the eyes, those were the same but the face was sharper, thinner, and even a little more placid now that the roundness of childhood had faded away. He looked less boundless, but somehow more confident as he came towards them, smiling fondly and a little unsure as he followed Tohru into the room. "Haru," he said, coming to stand in front of Hatsuharu, sharp eyes taking in the changes the years had wrought in his own form. Momiji's voice was noticeably more masculine, wavering slightly as he took a visibly deep breath and stepped forward to hold out his arms. Hatsuharu found himself stepping into them before he had a chance to really think about it, a little surprised to find the shy invitation offered instead of the running tackles he remembered. He had no idea how long they stood, arms around each other, clinging as though they could make up for lost time through simple physical contact, but Hatsuharu found he had no real desire to let go. Never really had, but that was a secret so well kept he had a hard time admitting it to himself sometimes and Akito's funeral was certainly not the place... A loud, hacking noise and an answering yelp shattered the silence, and Hatsuharu turned around to glare at Kyou where he had noisily cleared his throat. The redhead was gingerly rubbing the back of his head, glaring at his lover, who looked for all the world like nothing had happened. He waved a hand at Hatsuharu and threw Tohru a nervous glance over Kyou's head as Momiji tightened fingers on Hatsuharu's arm to draw his attention away. He turned to the rabbit with a questioning glance and found a more familiar, wide-eyed expression on his cousin's face, baffling in its sudden appearance against the backdrop of their companions shuffling and snickering behind him. "What?" he questioned, ducking his head closer. "Well?" Momiji asked, tugging at his shirt. "What do you think?" Well if that wasn't a loaded question. He supposed he could have answered that any number of ways, from commenting on the décor to calling his cousins idiots for installing themselves as the peanut gallery in this little exchange, to declaring his undying love, but somehow none of them seemed entirely appropriate. He settled for shrugging his shoulders, ignoring the impatient hissing behind him, and pressing closer to the man still clinging to his shirtsleeve. "Well," he began, "For starters, those three are ridiculous." That got him a smile, nervous and edgy, and he took it as a sign to continue. "And... And I think that I was right when I said you'd grow up to be something special." He tucked a stray lock of hair behind Momiji's ear and watched the smile bloom over the rabbit's face, the kind of full facial lightening that he remembered from watching Momiji years ago. He'd never met anyone else who could grin like that, with their whole face and sometimes the rest of their body, just radiate various levels of contentment like it was the most natural thing in the world. He was staring, but he couldn't bring himself to care, tracking the lighter flecks of blue in wide robin's egg eyes, the pale lashes feathered over his cheeks as he blinked his surprise. "Will you just kiss already and get it over with so we can go eat?!" If anything Momiji's smile grew at Kyou's impatient shout, the scuffle that followed when Yuki took objection to his tactlessness and Hatsuharu couldn't help but be amused at the familiarity. From the sound of it Tohru was busy scolding him as well, albeit in a much kinder fashion and somehow the arguing was soothing to nerves frayed from worrying for the entirety of the trip back about the outcome of this visit and this moment in time. The violence, at least, was familiar. It felt like home. His family was so dysfunctional. "Well?" the rabbit asked, tipping his face up to pout at Hatsuharu as the scuffle behind escalated. "Huh?" "Are you going to, or what?" "Am I going to..." "Kiss me, silly." He gaped, stupidly, not expecting that kind of forwardness and once again feeling like an idiot in retrospect. When had Momiji not demanded exactly what he wanted from the people around him? And when the rabbit used his stupor as an excuse to close the distance between their mouths he leaned forward, pressing against the man in his arms with all the fervor of seven years of lost time. He didn't know what he was doing. He had less of an idea what was going through Momiji's head and until they got a chance to really talk he wasn't going to label this the undying romance of his lifetime. But after a lifetime of lukewarm feeling between his usual rages he was glad to finally feel something beyond the paces he'd been putting himself through, when he hadn't even realized he'd been running in place. Whatever this was, he knew one thing for certain. Here in this place, with these people, he was home. return to splash page