New Fic: Rides to Town (Furuba)
Title: Rides to Town
Fandom: Fruits Basket (manga)
Summary: Hatori drives Ayame to town and thinks of Kana.
Pairing: none, past Hatori/Kana
Rating: G
"Up to that point, it seemed as if my dear client was doomed to be the most ill-clad at the party. She was a fountain of tears. Mine had to give her an entire bolt of cotton to use as a tissue..."
Driving Ayame to work was always such a trial for Hatori. As tolerant as he was of his cousin's prattle, the dressmaking-related tales were at best mind-numbing and at worst vividly lewd descriptions of some old businessman's most eccentric perversions. Thankfully, today's entertainment was on the mind-numbing end of the spectrum.
Hatori remembered the time he'd driven Kana out to this district. Her hair salon was very near Ayame's shop, and one autumn morning she'd asked if "Hatori-ishasan" wouldn't mind taking her to get her hair cut. She had missed the last bus and was running late. They drove most of the way in silence, Hatori watching from the corner of his eye the way shadows of trees passed over her shoulder.
"She had said her inseam was 26 cm, when it was in fact 21 cm, so the bloomers were dreadfully baggy around her thighs..."
Hatori had stepped from the car and walked around to let Kana out. She'd smiled and thanked him, saying how sometimes men forgot to do that these days. The hem of her skirt disappeared through the glass doors of the parlor. Hatori lit a cigarette and waited.
"...I tell you that you would not have known her from an engorged manatee..."
After smiling at Hatori again--the same way, lips slightly parted and eyes closed--Kana adjusted herself in the carseat and drew her fingers through her inch-shortened hair. "What do you think? You are the one who made this possible," she giggled. "I hope you like it..."
"Beautiful," Hatori had said, with a note in his voice that was a little too passionate. And then, because he couldn't help himself, "But..." He reached to pull a stray severed hair from her sweater. His fingers slid over the angora clad shoulder as he noticed how even the individual strand caught the afternoon light. "Now it's perfect."
Kana blushed. They drove most of the way in silence, Hatori watching to see if more stray hairs might fall.
"...But at the last moment, your Aaya came to the rescue. First, I cinched the bottom of the bloomers with ribbon. Next, I proceeded to perk up her skirts by starching the taffeta. Finally..."
If only he would just tell Ayame to hush, to put sun and freckles into his pale skin. If the delicate Ayame would just turn his head towards the outside so all Hatori would see was light hair and a sloped shoulder.
"And this is the part you will appreciate the most, Tori-san..."
From the left side of the intersection, across from Kana's hair salon, an Italian sportscar was about to run the light.
"TORI-SAN! ABUNAI!"
The squeal of rubber on asphalt drowned out Ayame's warning. Hatori jammed on the breaks and jerked the wheel sharply to the right as the sportscar flew by, horn blaring.
A few moments pause. More honking. Hatori righted himself and his car, drove through the intersection, and parked on the curb.
From the stillness, Ayame breathed, "Hatori-san..." His voice was pale. "Hatori-san...Didn't you see him? He was coming so quickly to the light, that I thought, certainly you...I would have said something."
Why hadn't he seen? Why hadn't he seen? Because he was in the past, in the changing leaves, in Kana's freckles. Because he was trying to remember what angora felt like, and he'd almost exchanged his real life for a dream one. He winced and let his head fall to the wheel.
But Ayame had different thoughts. Suddenly a memory roused of Hatori putting down his work and walking to the clock to check the time. "Tori-san..." said Ayame, brushing the overgrown tresses away from his cousin's face. "Close your right eye."
He did.
Darkness. One eye departed to dream forever.
Hatori let a soft gasp escape. "I'm..." Blind? Lost?
"Sorry."
Fandom: Fruits Basket (manga)
Summary: Hatori drives Ayame to town and thinks of Kana.
Pairing: none, past Hatori/Kana
Rating: G
"Up to that point, it seemed as if my dear client was doomed to be the most ill-clad at the party. She was a fountain of tears. Mine had to give her an entire bolt of cotton to use as a tissue..."
Driving Ayame to work was always such a trial for Hatori. As tolerant as he was of his cousin's prattle, the dressmaking-related tales were at best mind-numbing and at worst vividly lewd descriptions of some old businessman's most eccentric perversions. Thankfully, today's entertainment was on the mind-numbing end of the spectrum.
Hatori remembered the time he'd driven Kana out to this district. Her hair salon was very near Ayame's shop, and one autumn morning she'd asked if "Hatori-ishasan" wouldn't mind taking her to get her hair cut. She had missed the last bus and was running late. They drove most of the way in silence, Hatori watching from the corner of his eye the way shadows of trees passed over her shoulder.
"She had said her inseam was 26 cm, when it was in fact 21 cm, so the bloomers were dreadfully baggy around her thighs..."
Hatori had stepped from the car and walked around to let Kana out. She'd smiled and thanked him, saying how sometimes men forgot to do that these days. The hem of her skirt disappeared through the glass doors of the parlor. Hatori lit a cigarette and waited.
"...I tell you that you would not have known her from an engorged manatee..."
After smiling at Hatori again--the same way, lips slightly parted and eyes closed--Kana adjusted herself in the carseat and drew her fingers through her inch-shortened hair. "What do you think? You are the one who made this possible," she giggled. "I hope you like it..."
"Beautiful," Hatori had said, with a note in his voice that was a little too passionate. And then, because he couldn't help himself, "But..." He reached to pull a stray severed hair from her sweater. His fingers slid over the angora clad shoulder as he noticed how even the individual strand caught the afternoon light. "Now it's perfect."
Kana blushed. They drove most of the way in silence, Hatori watching to see if more stray hairs might fall.
"...But at the last moment, your Aaya came to the rescue. First, I cinched the bottom of the bloomers with ribbon. Next, I proceeded to perk up her skirts by starching the taffeta. Finally..."
If only he would just tell Ayame to hush, to put sun and freckles into his pale skin. If the delicate Ayame would just turn his head towards the outside so all Hatori would see was light hair and a sloped shoulder.
"And this is the part you will appreciate the most, Tori-san..."
From the left side of the intersection, across from Kana's hair salon, an Italian sportscar was about to run the light.
"TORI-SAN! ABUNAI!"
The squeal of rubber on asphalt drowned out Ayame's warning. Hatori jammed on the breaks and jerked the wheel sharply to the right as the sportscar flew by, horn blaring.
A few moments pause. More honking. Hatori righted himself and his car, drove through the intersection, and parked on the curb.
From the stillness, Ayame breathed, "Hatori-san..." His voice was pale. "Hatori-san...Didn't you see him? He was coming so quickly to the light, that I thought, certainly you...I would have said something."
Why hadn't he seen? Why hadn't he seen? Because he was in the past, in the changing leaves, in Kana's freckles. Because he was trying to remember what angora felt like, and he'd almost exchanged his real life for a dream one. He winced and let his head fall to the wheel.
But Ayame had different thoughts. Suddenly a memory roused of Hatori putting down his work and walking to the clock to check the time. "Tori-san..." said Ayame, brushing the overgrown tresses away from his cousin's face. "Close your right eye."
He did.
Darkness. One eye departed to dream forever.
Hatori let a soft gasp escape. "I'm..." Blind? Lost?
"Sorry."