[FIC] "Everything But the Sea" Part 2 (of 3) (30 Kisses theme #29)
Title: "Everything But the Sea" (Part 2 of 3)
Author: Ysabet MacFarlane (
umadoshi)
Pairing: Sohma Hatsuharu and Sohma Isuzu (Rin)
Fandom: Fruits Basket
Theme #29 (the sound of waves)
Disclaimer: Fruits Basket belongs to Takaya Natsuki and Hakusensha; English-language versions by FUNimation (anime) and Tokyopop (manga). This piece of fiction is in no way endorsed by or affiliated with any of the copyright holders. Please support the original work!
Please see part 1 (DW link) for additional notes.
Also, the interlude ("Every Bridge We Build", for 30_kisses theme #19) falls something a few pages into this part. No, it's not the best organization ever.
**********
Early August 2001
**********
Escaping to the seaside during the ruthless summer heat was a relief in all sorts of ways. Less than twenty-four hours after arriving, Rin was already weighing the possibility of staying longer against the likelihood that other members of the family would be looking for the same escape she and Haru were--from the weather, if not the furor of Akito and Shigure's formal wedding reception. The cluster of houses that belonged to the Sohmas had walls and gardens and paths separating them, but the beach was one expanse. Rin found herself clinging to the openness and approximation of solitude, unwilling to share any more than she had to.
The two houses they'd spoken for were closer together than most of the others, and small in a way she found comfortable and comforting. Tohru's assumption, relayed through Kyo, that the four of them would be sharing their meals had been a factor in Haru's choice when he made the arrangements. Rin had left it entirely in his hands; all she cared about was not staying in the house her parents had brought her to as a child.
"I thought maybe we could just share one of the bigger places, but then I figured they'd be too weirded out to do anything if we were in the same house," he'd said at the time, so utterly blasé in his theorizing about the other couple's sex life that Rin had had to mentally replay the comment to be sure that was what he was getting at.
Much to the servants' chagrin, the houses Haru had settled on hadn't been opened properly in a long time, but they were scrupulously clean. He and Rin had gone through both houses and opened all the windows to let the sun and breeze in as soon as they arrived, and by the time Kyo and Tohru arrived the next morning it was as if the buildings had never been empty.
Rin supposed the house was nice enough, with its two small bedrooms and the living room that opened practically onto the beach, but the ocean itself was her favorite part: better than the salt air, better than the relief from the heat, better than the endless horizon, better than the excuse to choose walking barefoot on hot sand over her beloved boots or the less-appreciated, barely-there sandals she wore only she couldn't stand having anything on her legs at all. It was a gentle stretch of beach, without treacherous footing or jagged rocks to be thrown against, and while the current couldn't be ignored, it wasn't too strong or sudden.
She hadn't swum in the sea since childhood, not even when she'd stood within reach of the waves' spray and raged back at them nearly two years earlier, and she loved it more than she'd expected. It was already her third time, and while she knew not to go as far out as she wanted to, she let herself drift far enough from the shore that the warm sand seemed impossibly distant. The ocean let her think of endlessness, of how there were places too deep for light to penetrate, whole worlds lying beneath the surface of the water that went on forever. It let her not think of comparatively insignificant things--things like broken curses, ignored family obligations, and the two weeks left before she and Haru planned to celebrate her twentieth birthday by marrying a few days later.
It also let her not think about less insignificant things like the unexpected child whose existence had become impossible to ignore, although its presence was perceptible only in her constant tiredness and the relentless awareness that she was no longer alone in her own skin. Cradled by the expanse of the ocean, she was able to breathe freely and forget all the things conspiring to change her life beyond recognition.
The illusion inevitably broke with the sound of a voice calling her name. She lifted her head fully out of the water and waved to show she'd heard before she started the quick swim back to where Tohru would feel comfortable coming out to meet her. Tohru was an exuberant swimmer, but awkward enough that Kyo and Haru both refused to let her get more than knee-deep in the surf without one of them nearby. Rin, thinking of her own bad habit of swimming out alone, had only felt hypocritical for the five minutes it took her to conclude that their description of Tohru's enthusiastic "swimming" was painfully accurate.
"Isuzu-san!" Tohru was already glowing with happiness as they met, her eyes shining as she wiped sea spray off her cheek. Back on shore, Kyo gave Rin a look that clearly handed off responsibility for his wife's life to her. "I found you!"
"I wasn't exactly hiding," Rin said, more mildly than she thought the comment really deserved.
"But we've hardly had a chance to talk yet." Tohru evidently stopped trying to tread water and let her feet touch bottom; the waves lapping at her shoulders stopped pushing her back. She studied Rin in the disconcerting way she had--an almost bashful, indirect gaze that somehow made it clear that the person on the receiving end had her full attention. "How are you, really?"
"Nothing's changed in the last hour, so I'm fine. Really." Rin swam backwards, closing her eyes when the next wave threw water over her head. "It gets deeper here," she added, just as Tohru walked after her and then suddenly sank far enough that only the top of her head was visible. She surfaced immediately, sputtering a bit but apparently in no immediate danger of drowning. Rin caught her hand anyway, towing her back to where the footing was more reliable. "Pay attention, will you?"
"I'm okay," Tohru said cheerfully. "That happens all the time."
"I've noticed." One of Tohru's pigtails had stuck to her cheek, making her look closer to five years old than nineteen. Rin freed it, and Tohru's smile changed into something subtler; even before Kyo and Tohru had moved away, they'd often gone long enough without seeing each other for Rin to forget that the trick to calming Tohru's dizzying affection was to let herself be caught. "You should stop making us worry about you."
"I told Kyo I'd be more careful, but I have to practice to get better!"
It took Rin a moment to realize that the lack of honorific on Kyo's name was what had startled her. Tohru and Kyo's wedding had been the first of the year, but it was hard to remember that four months had already passed. "I kind of thought you'd always call him '-kun'," she said. "It seemed like something you'd do."
"Oh." Another change in Tohru's smile, sudden shyness making her look away. "I'm practicing that, too."
I should tell her. Rin bit her lip, tasting the salt crust left by all the waves that had washed over her. 'Guess what, we're having a baby.' It's not that hard.
"Isuzu-san?" Tohru was studying her again, her forehead furrowing as if she were trying to read Rin's mind.
She probably is. Rin shook her head, frowning at the feel of the ends of her hair sticking to her shoulders. "It's nothing. I'm just not feeling very talkative."
"Oh!" Tohru turned away so quickly that Rin almost missed the words that followed. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you wanted to be alone--"
"Hey." Rin touched Tohru's arm before she could get very far. "That isn't what I said. Do you want to just swim a little?"
Tohru nodded. "That sounds like fun."
"I'm glad to see you too, you know."
"You don't usually say things like that," Tohru said.
"I guess we've all got things we're practicing."
**********
Haru was pleasantly surprised by how far into the evening Rin held up. Whether it was the salt air or simply being around a friend for the first time in months, she got through supper and attempted to help Tohru clean up afterwards before exhaustion caught up with her.
"Did you tell Honda-san?" he asked when they were alone in "their" house. The way their day had unfolded was closer to how most people lived, he supposed, but it felt strange to have spent the day near her without having had much chance to talk privately since getting out of bed.
"I still don't want to tell anyone yet," she said, turning to face him. The sunset glowed through the large window behind her, silhouetting her in brilliant colors. "It's still early, and--I don't want anyone to know. Not until we're married." It was paranoia that held her back, not embarrassment. Haru couldn’t think of any way the family could use the fact that she was pregnant against them, but even knowing that the information was in a file in Kana's office was making Rin nervous.
"Thought you might make an exception for her," he offered. "She knows how to keep secrets."
"I know." Rin rested her head back on the pane. "Maybe we should. I don't know when we'll see them again." A small yawn escaped. "Ugh, I could go to sleep right now."
"I know you sleep in weird positions, but that doesn't look like a comfortable spot."
"Funny." She pushed away from the window again and disappeared into the kitchen. When she reappeared with two glasses of water, she settled down beside him on the couch and turned her attention back to the dwindling sunset.
"You're sure you don't want to go back and see the others some more tonight?" she asked eventually, when the sky had faded mostly to monochromes.
"I'm good." He turned to sit sideways, leaning back against the arm of the couch. In the deepening darkness he couldn't see Rin's face clearly, but he could feel her relaxing. "How about you?"
"Fine." The couch shifted a little as she moved closer; he lay down entirely to give her room to stretch out, and she spooned herself against him. Haru closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair, wrapping his arms around her with an awkwardness that they both noticed at the same time.
"I still haven't figured out where to put my hands," he said when she craned her head around to peer at him.
"Anywhere you want." How she could manage to sound both amused and anxious was a bit beyond him when he was trying so hard to put words to his uncertainty. "It's fine, honestly." She took his hand and pressed it against her, where he could almost imagine what it would be like to feel their baby move.
"I don't want you to feel like I'm paying more attention to the baby than you," he said.
Rin burrowed closer, pillowing her head on his arm. "I'm glad you're excited." Her voice began to fade as she made herself more comfortable. "I can feel how much you're going to love him."
"Are you falling asleep right here?" Her answering murmur was unintelligible. Haru repositioned himself a little, kissing the back of her neck. Her fingers tightened on his, a pressure so slight it might have been involuntary. The speed with which she'd begun falling asleep was disconcerting; ordinarily, he almost never saw her sleep unless he happened to wake up in the middle of the night. "Okay. Sweet dreams."
**********
The next two days passed quickly. Haru had half-expected them to be slow, since none of the four of them had made any plans beyond staying fed and trying not to get sunburned, but instead, sunset seemed to come only a few hours after they got up. Tohru, more sensitive to Rin's moods than Kyo was, made sure to take Kyo with her for a long walk each day so Rin could have some time to herself without being the one to leave.
"She managed to keep Yuki and Kyo from killing each other for over two years," Rin commented when she noticed. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised if she's managing me too."
"Guess not," Haru agreed. He hadn't fully realized how much time he and Rin spent in usually-comfortable silence until being around Tohru and Kyo gave him something to compare it to.
"I think they just talk a lot," Rin said when he mentioned it. "Or maybe they talk less when it's just them. But I doubt it."
Tohru was politely refraining from discussing Shigure and Akito's wedding with them, but she bubbled over with other details of what she'd done with her whirlwind days before coming to the beach. She'd spent most of her time surrounded by various Sohmas, except when her friends from school had stolen her away.
"They wouldn't let me come," Kyo had grumbled just before leaving, while he waited for Tohru to come downstairs with a hat. "They both come crash with us on weekends whenever they want, and then they steal Tohru the second we get back to town."
"Well, you get her all the time," Rin had replied.
"Yeah, that's what they said." Kyo had made a face and followed Tohru outside, leaving Rin and Haru to occupy themselves in solitude.
He and Tohru returned a couple of hours later with matching sunburned noses, a copious number of seashells she'd collected to decorate the sand castle she'd been working on--safely out of the waves' reach--and a lush green watermelon.
"They're selling them at the store up the road!" Tohru said, delighted, and then gave Haru a confused look when he started laughing.
"I bought one earlier, Honda-san. That's all," he said. "Sorry we didn't save any--it was pretty small."
"But you'll still have some?" Her hopeful smile turned puzzled when she noticed that Rin was blushing.
"You bet," Haru said. "There's always room for melon."
**********
The third full day was much the same as the previous ones. Early evening found Tohru still on the beach, carefully setting shells around the edges of her sand castle. The pile of shells still beside her was large enough that Rin, who'd only meant to keep her company, calculated there were enough to entirely cover half of the castle. Since Tohru seemed to only be using them for accents, she'd begun filching the less-perfect shells from the heap and assembling them into a mosaic.
Both of them were so engrossed in what they were doing that Haru and Kyo's return from a round of sparring in one of the yards took them by surprise. Tohru grinned and went back to adding the last finishing touches. "I'm almost finished! I'll start supper in just a few minutes."
"We won't starve," Kyo said, crouching to look at the castle. "This is better than your last one."
"It's built to last!"
Kyo's bright smile turned to a blush when he remembered Rin was there. Rather than look at her, he examined what she'd been working on. "You seem different out here, Isuzu."
"Do I?" She kept her eyes on the mosaic, setting a shell into place.
"Yeah. I guess maybe 'cause you look different?"
She looked up at that. "I do?"
"Well, you're not all--" He gestured vaguely at Rin's dress. "You're less spiky. Your clothes are." Rin touched the studded collar that she'd worn almost constantly for the past few months. Kyo grimaced. "You almost look normal."
"You mean we don't wear bathing suits with chains on 'em?" Haru suggested, flopping on the sand.
"Do they even make--" Kyo stopped again. "Oh, forget it."
"Just say I'm shorter," Rin replied. "I haven't been wearing heels." She changed position, intending to brandish a bare foot at him for emphasis, but just then Tohru sat back, wiping her hands together.
"All done!" She jumped up and started to reach down for Rin's hand. Halfway through the motion she frowned and changed course, pressing a palm to Rin's forehead. "Isuzu-san, are you all right?"
Rin automatically tried to duck away. "Sure. Why?"
"Maybe you've had too much sun? You look a bit flushed."
"I feel fine." Her vision went bright and blurry as she started to stand. When it cleared she found herself on her feet, held firmly upright by Haru's grip on her elbows. "Oh. Maybe a little lightheaded." Or a lot. She leaned against Haru, waiting for the sudden pounding in her temples to ease.
Her balance returned quickly, but her pulse kept throbbing uncomfortably. "It's nothing. Too much sun. I think I'll go lie down for a few minutes."
"Would you like to borrow a hat tomorrow?" Tohru asked.
Rin pictured the pair of hats Tohru had brought along. "How about I make sure to stay in the shade?" She caught Haru's hands and squeezed them quickly. "I'll come back soon."
"Want me to come with you?" he asked.
"No, I'm okay." This pronouncement met with a pair of worried stares. She found herself in the unusual position of looking to Kyo for backup, but he only gave her a tiny what-can-you-do shrug. Rin shook her head and started walking, trying not to show how wobbly she felt. "See you in a little while."
Focusing kept her steady as she made her way back to the tiny house. She'd almost reached the door when the first stab of pain pierced her concentration.
**********
Before arriving, Tohru had blithely ignored the phone number Haru had given her for the nearby servants' residence, preferring to stock the kitchen herself rather than sending someone else out to buy groceries for her. The brief vacation was renewing his appreciation for her eye for good food and her ability to produce meals using the most unlikely resources. Watching her bustle around the kitchen as if she'd lived in it for years was oddly hypnotic, and homey in unexpected ways--before she and Kyo had moved away, she had agreed to teach Rin to cook more than the very basic things she already knew.
It made seeing Tohru cut vegetables a whole new experience. Her technique was recognizably the one she'd taught Rin, made quicker by years of practice. It kept distracting Haru from the conversation he was attempting to carry on with her from the kitchen doorway, having long since learned that when Tohru was cooking was not the time to try to venture in.
When Tohru set the knife down and got herself a glass of water, Haru glanced past her to the window. There weren't any clocks in sight, but the growing pile of vegetables was a reasonable indication of how much time had passed. "I'm gonna go see how Rin is. Maybe she fell asleep or something."
**********
Over an hour later, Kyo went looking for them. The front door to the smaller house was cracked open when he arrived, as if it hadn't quite latched properly and had been nudged open by the breeze. He hesitated, looking at it, and finally knocked. There was no answer.
Maybe she forgot about supper and went for a walk and he had to go look for her. Or maybe she conked out. Or maybe they got distracted-- Rather than pursue that train of thought, he reluctantly let himself in, keeping an ear out for any hint that they had gotten distracted and he should turn around and leave again.
The house was silent, but it didn't feel empty. "Hey, Haru?" he called, keeping his voice down. The quiet was oppressive. "Isuzu? You guys coming back for supper? It's ready." From behind one of the bedroom doors, he heard Haru's voice, too quiet for it to be an answer. "What's going on?"
A long silence. "Just a sec," came a muffled reply.
Kyo leaned against the wall and waited, still not sure whether to be embarrassed--or, as the minutes passed, annoyed. He was about to call their names again when the door opened and Haru came out. The evening sun pouring through the front window was bright enough that Kyo had to squint to see him.
What he could make out of Haru's expression banished the irritation that had been building up. "Is Isuzu okay?" he asked. Haru slid the door closed behind him without answering, not seeming to hear. "Hey. Haru!" Kyo moved closer, placing himself directly in Haru's line of sight.
Haru continued scanning the room. "I've gotta find my phone," he said indistinctly.
"This one?" Kyo fished a cell phone off a side table, where it was lying in plain view. "Seriously, what the hell is wrong?"
"I think I need to call Tori-nii."
"What," Kyo said, exaggerating each word, "is wrong? Is Isuzu sick?"
Haru finally focused on him, his face turning guarded. "No," he said, seeming not to notice the phone Kyo was holding out. "She's..." He stopped, choosing his words. "She's having a hard time."
He said nothing else, clearly leaving Kyo to draw a conclusion. It didn't take long; Kyo knew his own tendency to get embarrassed over things that should obviously be kept private, but he'd shared a house with Tohru for most of high school--long enough that he'd known perfectly well before they moved to their own place that it wasn't unusual for girls to have rough months.
"Bad enough that you've gotta call Hatori?"
"Um." Haru finally noticed that Kyo was holding his cell phone and took it. "I want to call Kana-san, actually. Rin went to talk to her about some stuff, but I don't have her number."
That was the most useful thing he'd said since Kyo had arrived. "Want me to call the Main House and get it? Somebody'll know."
"Yeah. That'd be great."
Since he hadn't brought his own phone with him, Kyo went outside with Haru's. It only took one call. One of the convenient things Akito had done in the last year was give standing orders to her staff to prioritize any requests from formerly-cursed family members, whether they ever visited the House in person or not. Akito's secretary, a woman whose name Kyo didn't know, sounded positively grateful to be finding the answer to a simple question.
He had to go back inside the house to find a pen and paper. After scribbling the number down, he brought it and the phone to where Haru was waiting in the living room, looking as if he hadn't budged since Kyo had left.
"Thanks," Haru said, taking them from him. "Can you tell Honda-san we won't be back for supper? Sorry about that."
"She'll understand. She'll probably want to come right up, though."
Alarm sparked in Haru's eyes. "I don't think Rin'll want to see anybody. Maybe tomorrow?"
"I'll tell her," Kyo said dubiously. "Can I say you'll call if you need her?"
"Yeah. Thanks," Haru said. "And sorry."
"You already said that. Hope Isuzu feels better." He had the distinct impression Haru still wasn't going to move until he was gone, so he shrugged and headed back down to the other house.
**********
Later, Haru had to carefully calculate how much time had passed before Kyo came to check on them, and before that, how long Rin had been gone before he'd gone looking for her. It felt like one endless moment since he'd found her huddled in the toilet room, dry-eyed, with crescent gouges in her palms that deepened every time a spasm of pain drove her nails in.
"Tell me," he'd said, kneeling beside her, and she'd tightened her arms around her knees, a soft, horrible sound catching in her throat.
"I'm bleeding. A lot." She'd taken the hand he offered her, clenching down on it. "I'm sorry, I--"
She hadn't really looked at him since. She'd let him help her to the bedroom, let him rub her back and hold her, but she'd retreated somewhere inside herself.
She let him do the talking when he finally had Kana on the phone, speaking up only when Kana asked something Haru couldn't answer. She went more and more ashen while the conversation continued, but when he offered to take it to the living room she shook her head and left the room, visibly shaky but gesturing for him to stay put.
By the time he hung up she'd come back to the bed, sitting up and curled tightly around herself. Haru sat beside her gingerly, trying not to jar her.
"Did Kana-san say how long it would take?" It was the first thing she'd said to him directly since he'd found her.
"She said it varies a lot." It was no answer at all, but Rin only nodded, taking his hand again and gripping it with unexpected strength. "She said it was probably too late to do anything by the time you realized something was wrong." Haru ground his free palm against his eyes. "She...she says these things just happen, and right now we've gotta wait it out."
"I see."
"How bad is it?" One of Kana's first questions had been whether Rin could rate the pain. "She's got really high pain tolerance," he'd heard himself saying, watching Rin's face while she tried to decide on an answer, as if tolerance and experience were the same.
On a scale of one to ten, from cracked ribs to a rock tearing your back open like paper--
"Bad." She leaned into him, as if her head were too heavy to hold up. "Don't let go."
"I won't," he said. "Do you want to lie down?"
"I'd only have to get up again." Harsh, shallow breaths spoke volumes about how much pain she was in. "I just want it to be over," she said, and then she was quiet again for a long time.
Haru kept holding her, rocking her while she trembled and hurt in his arms, almost feverishly hot. "Breathe," he whispered, over and over, kissing her hair. "Just keep breathing. It'll be okay." He'd been talking her through things--nightmares, the sporadic times when emotion drove her past words, the occasional truly dark mood--for years, long enough that the stream of words came naturally at first.
The sudden realization that their baby's life might have begun to the sound of the same endearments and reassurances he was saying now, as that life slipped away, made the sound of his own voice obscene. "Rin," he whispered, not expecting a reply.
"I'm here," she said, as if she'd heard what was going through his head. "I hear you." She untangled herself from his arms, wincing. "Could you--I don't think there're any more painkillers here."
He didn't ask how many she'd had to take to finish off the house's supply; the staff who maintained the summer homes tended to make sure there was a little of everything the family could need in each building, but not a lot of any one thing. Rin's dislike of pills made her prone to under-medicating herself rather than the reverse. "I'll find some."
"Thanks." She met his eyes briefly as she touched his cheek. "I'll be here."
**********
It was full dark when he went outside, and he stood on the veranda for just a minute, breathing the salt smell rising from the sea. Its blackness made the star-strewn sky seem almost bright in comparison. Haru looked out at both of them, absurdly grateful for how small they made him feel. "Please let her be okay," he said, as if either the ocean or the sky were listening.
**********
Less than an hour had passed by the time he got back--less time than he'd feared, given the darkness and his notorious ability to lose his way, but either urgency or some lingering sense of where Rin was and what she needed kept him on the right path. He switched a lamp on in the living room when he came in, already listening for her.
Another lamp was still on in the empty bedroom, but the only other light in the house came from around the edges of the toilet room door. "Rin?"
He didn't think there were any words in the faint sound of acknowledgement that came in response. He walked over to the door and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. "I'm back. I'm right here if you need me."
"Okay," came faintly from the other side, and that was all.
To distract himself, Haru began unpacking the bag he'd brought back. The matronly woman who'd answered his knock at the largest of the summer houses either wasn't one of the servants who'd known about the Jyuunishi curse or else she had overcome the superstitious awe that had often come with the knowledge. It had been all he could do to persuade her not to accompany him back once he'd explained that Rin wasn't feeling well; not liking to lie, but also unwilling to give even the most motherly of servants an interesting piece of gossip, he'd resorted to saying that Rin tended to have bad cramps--not true--hoping she'd take his awkwardness for embarrassment.
To make up for sending him back alone, the woman had quickly packed up at least five different types of medication, fresh yukata for both of them, a separate bundle of what she called "womanly supplies" (complete with a warning look), and finally, when Haru admitted that neither of them had eaten since lunch, some food.
Alone in the kitchen, Haru eyed the food and concluded that he didn't have the stomach for it. Some of it went into the refrigerator, but not all; he opened a cupboard at random, still not really sure where things went in the kitchen, especially since Rin had gone through it when they'd first arrived.
The cupboard mostly held dried goods, but there were a few bottles of medicine on one shallow shelf, where Rin couldn't have missed them when she'd looked around. He took down the bottle of ibuprofen and opened it, just to be sure.
He allowed himself a few moments of frustration, and then tried to shrug it off. Really not the time. "She knows what she needs," he said under his breath. "Get over it."
That frustration ebbed, but what replaced it was worse: the ache to be with her, to touch her, to be doing something, as if there was anything that could be done.
He finally went back into the living room, where he sat still when he could, resorting to practicing kata when he couldn't. He called to Rin from time to time, and she always answered--short, quiet replies that betrayed nothing but the knowledge that he'd come check on her if she didn't.
A small eternity later she cracked the door open and said she needed a shower. "Hang on a sec," he said, and headed back into the kitchen for the bag the servant had sent. It was still full of everything but the food. "In case there's anything you need," he said, handing it to her. He watched her surreptitiously while she sorted through it.
"Some of this'll help." Rin pressed the back of her hand against the smaller yukata. "I've got to get out of these clothes, and I couldn't stand thinking about anything else I brought." She crossed the hall to the bathing room, her eyes so shadowed and red-tinged that he cringed inside. "I'll be out soon, okay?"
"Sure."
It was another half hour before she emerged, bundled into the yukata, and joined him on the couch. She shook her head before he could say anything, rescuing a book she'd abandoned on the floor earlier in the day, and lay down with her head in his lap.
"Want me to turn the light off?" he asked.
"No." Exhaustion had carved lines into her face. "I think that was the worst of it," she said finally, her voice so small he had to strain to hear it. "There was an awful lot of blood, and--now I just hurt. Less, I think."
"Do you want some painkillers now?"
"Yes." There was a hint of guilt in the way she looked at him as she moved to let him up.
"It's all right," he said, and went to get them. He didn't watch to see how many she took. "I'm gonna go get changed too."
The bathing room, when he went in to rinse his face, showed almost no sign that anything had been wrong--only the bundle of clothing in the garbage and the faint, metallic scent of blood lingering under the smell of soap remained as evidence. Haru shuddered, staring at his reflection while he dampened a cloth and quickly washed the worst of the sweat off his body. His own clothes joined Rin's in the garbage before he put on the second yukata and found a spare blanket in the closet.
Rin was lying on her side on the couch, looking out the window, or at the glare of the lamp reflected in it. "Hey," he said, kneeling on the floor beside her and tucking the blanket around her.
"Hey," she echoed, turning her head to let him kiss her temple.
"Think you can you sleep?"
"No." She licked her lips uncomfortably. "Haru?"
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"I'm sorry."
"Don't say that." He kissed her face again, smoothing her hair back. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Could you read to me for a little while?" she asked, drawing his attention to the closed book in her hand. Her voice was still alarmingly quiet. "It might take my mind off it. And yours."
"Okay." He rearranged himself so he was still sitting on the floor by the couch, at just the right height to put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder. "From the beginning?"
"Please."
He took the book from her, angling it to best catch the lamplight, and started to read.
**********
Unexpectedly, it was hunger that made Rin stop trying to sleep a little while after dawn. Haru had fallen asleep an hour or two before, after reading to her for most of the night. When he'd gotten cold sitting on the floor he'd come up onto the couch with her, sharing the blanket, and for a little while it had been almost as if the past day and night hadn't happened. Almost, except for the way Haru had periodically trailed off mid-sentence, looking blankly at the page, and except for the waves of cramping pain that kept coming, bearable now, but still too intense to ignore--or sleep through, although her eyes and muscles burned with exhaustion.
Remembering that Haru had said the family servant had sent food back for them, she went into the kitchen and discovered she had just about enough energy to put soy sauce on rice and take it outside.
The sun was still low enough in the sky that the front veranda was in shadow, but she sat down anyway, eating slowly without paying much attention to either the food or her surroundings. The steady roll of the surf was comforting, something to focus on other than the way she hurt and the way Haru's voice had kept catching as he read to her. Every time her thoughts wandered too close, she let the sea pull them away again.
"Hey, Isuzu?"
Kyo's voice startled her into dropping the mostly-empty bowl. It toppled off her lap and might have rolled off the edge of the veranda entirely if Kyo hadn't been close enough to catch it. "Sorry," he said. "Thought you heard me."
"No one ever hears you coming," she retorted, not caring if he mistook the bite in her voice for the old Jyuunishi habit of pushing the Cat away.
"Good morning to you too," he shot back, nettled. "Tohru wants to know if you and Haru are coming down for breakfast. Your phones're shut off."
"I guess they are." She rubbed at her eyes. "Haru's still asleep."
"You feeling better?" Kyo lowered his voice as he crouched beside her, sizing her up. "You look like hell."
"What did Haru tell you?"
"Just that you weren't feeling good. Why?"
"No reason." She tried to sit up straighter, to look less obviously drained. "He'll probably go over later."
Kyo fidgeted, flexing his fingers in much the same way Haru tended to. Rin stared at his hands. It was as if she'd never looked at them before, never seen that small similarity between the two boys--men--although unlike Haru, Kyo left his ring alone. The wedding band was the only jewelry Rin had ever seen him wear other than his protective beads. Maybe he learned the hard way not to play with his jewelry.
"Tohru wants me to ask if she can come see you, if you're sticking around here today."
Without intending to, Rin looked back out at the waves, away from him. "She can do whatever she wants."
"Right." Kyo stood with a familiar sound of frustration. "D'you need anything before I go tell her that?"
"No," she said, wishing he would leave. Except-- "Wait. Can you get my camera without waking Haru up?"
"Where is it?"
"I think it's by the kitchen. But Haru's sleeping on the couch."
"Why's he--never mind. Sure." Kyo took her chopsticks from her and vanished into the house like a shadow, only the faint sound of the door opening marking his passage. He was back within minutes, holding her camera bag instead of her breakfast dishes. "Haru's out cold. Is this it?"
"Yes. Thanks."
When she looked up again, Kyo was gone.
**********
Haru was used to waking up alone. Rin slept less than he did, even when she slept peacefully; on the rare occasions when he opened his eyes to find her beside him, it meant she'd gotten up and later come back to bed on a whim.
What he wasn't used to was her complete absence, and the unfamiliar house felt empty in a way that made him jerk upright before he was fully awake, looking for her even before his memory of the previous night caught up to him.
He found her outside, barefoot and wearing only the light yukata. Her camera lay in her lap, its strap wrapped securely around her wrist. Only the stiff way she was leaning against the house's wall betrayed that she was awake.
"What're you doing?" he asked, joining her.
"Listening." Her eyes stayed shut, and minutes passed before she said anything more. Haru listened too, waiting, until she added, "I took some pictures of the water."
"How do you feel?"
"Not great." Her stillness changed, became wary as she finally looked at him. "How about you?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "It almost doesn't seem real." She nodded, although he wasn't sure it was agreement.
"Kyo was here. I think Tohru's going to come later." Her gaze wavered, slid back to the sea. "I'll have to tell them something," she said. She gripped his hand as if she were trying to keep her balance. "I don't look okay, do I?"
"No." Haru rubbed her fingers, shivering at the chill in them and the hollow look on her face. Just beyond the veranda the sand looked inviting and warm, but without direct sunlight hitting them the morning breeze was cool. "No, you don't." He rested his head against hers with a sigh. "Will you be all right if I go get a shower?"
"I want to stay out here a while longer."
"Okay." He kissed her cheek and went inside to retrieve the blanket from the couch, a pillow from the second bedroom, and some sunscreen. Rin didn't protest when he brought them to her, so he tucked the blanket around her legs and feet, which felt even colder than her hands when his skin brushed against hers.
"I can put sunscreen on myself," she said when he lingered. It wasn't quite "stop hovering", but he took the hint and went inside to wash up.
He had almost finished showering when the soap slipped out of his hands. It wasn't until he'd tried and failed to pick it up that he realized it was because his hands were shaking, that his breathing had gone out of control. "Damn," he muttered, resting against the wall to steady himself. Hot water streamed over his face like an illusion of tears. "I don't even know what she's feeling."
I don't even know what I'm feeling. The emotions running through him were too tightly tangled to pick through, rooted in sorrow for a child he would never know, whose existence he'd been aware of for little more than a week.
He stood there for a long time, inhaling the steam while he tried to sift through his feelings. The impulse to let his thoughts go somewhere--anywhere--else was desperately tempting. He could do it; one of the hardest-won lessons he'd taken from the year and a half he and Rin had been apart was how easily he could push unwanted thoughts to the back of his mind until he could tell himself they weren't there at all.
He could do it. He could pretend he didn't have a good idea of the turns Rin's thoughts were taking, that he wasn't intimately aware of her mind's particular ways of gnawing away at itself. Or he could let his body take over, attack the unyielding wall because it was there, because he could never overcome it before it wore him down and left him with pure, physical pain to match the hurt he couldn't take away from her.
Or he could do what the man he was trying to shape himself into would do because that man wouldn't be able to imagine doing otherwise.
**********
If Rin had moved an inch since he'd gone inside, it wasn't obvious. Haru sat beside her and studied her without speaking, and eventually she tore her gaze away from the breaking waves. "What do you want me to say?" she asked, very quietly.
"I don't want you to say anything in particular."
"I'm sor--"
"Especially not that." He took her hands and chafed them between his. "Do you feel cold?"
"No," she said, showing no sign that she realized her teeth were chattering.
"To me you feel like you just came in out of the rain in winter. Have you eaten anything?"
"Yes." Her eyes glittered; he didn't ask if the anger was at his question or her own answer.
"You don't look sick," he said. "Honda-san's gonna be able to tell that's not what's going on. What do you want to tell her?" Rin stared back at him, confusion eclipsing the anger. "That's all we have to do right now--decide what to tell them. I know you can fake being mostly okay, and I know if you do you'll be wrecked for a while. I'll help you if that's what you need to do."
"You're being awfully practical," she said. "Tell her. What difference does it make?" If she'd been angry a moment before, she was furious now, her voice low and merciless. "All I need to do is recover--" she nearly choked on the word "--and life goes back to normal." She pulled her hands away and clenched them in her lap. "I'm so sick of recovering."
"I know."
"It doesn't even hurt that much now." She curled more tightly around herself, looking back at the shore, and the wind almost stole her voice. "Why doesn't it hurt more?"
He couldn't say I don't know. Instead, he asked, "Do you want me to go tell them, then?"
"Please." She didn't resist when he stroked her hair as he stood, but her shoulders slumped. "Haru?"
"Yeah?"
"You shouldn't pretend to be okay either." She took a deep breath, tipping her head back. "I need to think for a while."
She didn't say anything else, and Haru left her alone.
**********
The sun was high enough in the sky that its light reflected from the water back into Rin's eyes by the time Tohru arrived.
"I brought you some lunch," was all Tohru said at first, setting a small wrapped bento and a glass of water down between them as she sat.
Rin didn't turn her head; all she could see was the green sun dress Tohru was wearing. The wind was picking up, and Tohru was in pigtails again. Seeing that much was all right. Pigtails weren't part of Tohru's arsenal for cracking people open like oysters, and she wasn't looking at Rin or trying to make conversation.
They sat, and the sun rose higher. Rin moved only to retrieve her camera when the light on the waves was blinding, to capture the watery blaze of it, and if Tohru moved closer while she was doing that, it was tolerable.
After she'd taken a third picture, Tohru touched her hand, very carefully, as if Rin were made of glass.
"I won't break," Rin said, letting her hand be taken, and Tohru squeezed.
"You never break," she agreed.
"You say that like it's something sad."
If Tohru had thoughts on that, she kept them to herself. "I'm going to head back so you can eat," she said. "Would you like me to send Hatsuharu-san over?"
"Where is he?"
"With Kyo-kun." The old honorific slipped out. Rin didn't comment. "Can I come back later?"
"Aren't you two heading home tonight?"
She felt the look Tohru gave her, but kept her face turned to the water. "I don't think so." Tohru got up slowly, smoothing her skirt down over her thighs. "I'll come back."
"Tohru--"
"Yes?"
"Can you do something for me?"
"Anything."
"Anything," Rin echoed, closing her eyes against the temptation to look at her. "Can you call Yuki? He's still in town, right?"
"Yes," Tohru said, and then, "Oh."
"Haru needs--" Her throat felt as if it were rusting. "It doesn't even matter. He won't take anything from me right now. He's touching me like I'm going to shatter. Just like you were. And I won't. But I can't give him what he needs right now."
Tohru's embrace was brief and fierce. Rin had enough time to feel how hot Tohru's skin was where it touched hers, and then Tohru let go before Rin could decide whether to push her away. "I'll come back later, Isuzu-san."
**********
Haru returned not long after Tohru left; like her, he sat in silence for a while, close enough that Rin could lean against him if she wanted to. She didn't. "What're you seeing out there?" he asked eventually, following her gaze out to sea.
"How big it is. All that water--" The sharp way she cut herself off reminded Haru of nothing so much as someone taking a blow to the windpipe, the kind where pain was drowned out utterly by panic.
"What about it?"
Her pulse fluttered visibly in her neck. "It could hold so many lives."
"All the life in the world, I bet."
"It's a good place for a water child to stay." She wrapped the blanket tighter around her hands. "I can't talk to you about this. Not yet."
I don't need you to talk yet. I need you to need me. But he was no more able to say that aloud than she was able to tell him whatever was running through her mind.
Something of it crept into his voice, into her name, against his will. "Rin, you can tell me anything."
At that, she finally looked at him. "Didn't he know how much you wanted him?" And that was the answer to the question he'd known he didn't have to ask, in what she wasn't saying: He knew how much I wanted him. Not enough.
Haru touched his rings one by one, choosing his words. "Maybe he knew wanting isn't the same as being ready." From the corner of his eye he could see the tide coming in, challenging and changing the demarcation between ocean and land. Water child. Gone without ever having been fully with them. "Maybe he wasn't ready, either. Maybe he tasted the world and didn't like it enough."
"Do you believe that?"
He made a face. "I believe spirits'll do whatever they feel like."
The fragile laugh that won him was as bitter as it was amused. "True." She freed a hand from the blanket and brought it to his face. "Later? Please?"
"Okay." He kissed her wrist and went to look for Tohru and Kyo.
Go to part 3 (DW link).
Originally posted at http://umadoshi.dreamwidth.org/371668.html. Comment here if you like, or comment there using OpenID. Comments at DW:
(Need a Dreamwidth invite? I can probably hook you up.)
Author: Ysabet MacFarlane (
umadoshi)
Pairing: Sohma Hatsuharu and Sohma Isuzu (Rin)
Fandom: Fruits Basket
Theme #29 (the sound of waves)
Disclaimer: Fruits Basket belongs to Takaya Natsuki and Hakusensha; English-language versions by FUNimation (anime) and Tokyopop (manga). This piece of fiction is in no way endorsed by or affiliated with any of the copyright holders. Please support the original work!
Please see part 1 (DW link) for additional notes.
Also, the interlude ("Every Bridge We Build", for 30_kisses theme #19) falls something a few pages into this part. No, it's not the best organization ever.
**********
Early August 2001
**********
Escaping to the seaside during the ruthless summer heat was a relief in all sorts of ways. Less than twenty-four hours after arriving, Rin was already weighing the possibility of staying longer against the likelihood that other members of the family would be looking for the same escape she and Haru were--from the weather, if not the furor of Akito and Shigure's formal wedding reception. The cluster of houses that belonged to the Sohmas had walls and gardens and paths separating them, but the beach was one expanse. Rin found herself clinging to the openness and approximation of solitude, unwilling to share any more than she had to.
The two houses they'd spoken for were closer together than most of the others, and small in a way she found comfortable and comforting. Tohru's assumption, relayed through Kyo, that the four of them would be sharing their meals had been a factor in Haru's choice when he made the arrangements. Rin had left it entirely in his hands; all she cared about was not staying in the house her parents had brought her to as a child.
"I thought maybe we could just share one of the bigger places, but then I figured they'd be too weirded out to do anything if we were in the same house," he'd said at the time, so utterly blasé in his theorizing about the other couple's sex life that Rin had had to mentally replay the comment to be sure that was what he was getting at.
Much to the servants' chagrin, the houses Haru had settled on hadn't been opened properly in a long time, but they were scrupulously clean. He and Rin had gone through both houses and opened all the windows to let the sun and breeze in as soon as they arrived, and by the time Kyo and Tohru arrived the next morning it was as if the buildings had never been empty.
Rin supposed the house was nice enough, with its two small bedrooms and the living room that opened practically onto the beach, but the ocean itself was her favorite part: better than the salt air, better than the relief from the heat, better than the endless horizon, better than the excuse to choose walking barefoot on hot sand over her beloved boots or the less-appreciated, barely-there sandals she wore only she couldn't stand having anything on her legs at all. It was a gentle stretch of beach, without treacherous footing or jagged rocks to be thrown against, and while the current couldn't be ignored, it wasn't too strong or sudden.
She hadn't swum in the sea since childhood, not even when she'd stood within reach of the waves' spray and raged back at them nearly two years earlier, and she loved it more than she'd expected. It was already her third time, and while she knew not to go as far out as she wanted to, she let herself drift far enough from the shore that the warm sand seemed impossibly distant. The ocean let her think of endlessness, of how there were places too deep for light to penetrate, whole worlds lying beneath the surface of the water that went on forever. It let her not think of comparatively insignificant things--things like broken curses, ignored family obligations, and the two weeks left before she and Haru planned to celebrate her twentieth birthday by marrying a few days later.
It also let her not think about less insignificant things like the unexpected child whose existence had become impossible to ignore, although its presence was perceptible only in her constant tiredness and the relentless awareness that she was no longer alone in her own skin. Cradled by the expanse of the ocean, she was able to breathe freely and forget all the things conspiring to change her life beyond recognition.
The illusion inevitably broke with the sound of a voice calling her name. She lifted her head fully out of the water and waved to show she'd heard before she started the quick swim back to where Tohru would feel comfortable coming out to meet her. Tohru was an exuberant swimmer, but awkward enough that Kyo and Haru both refused to let her get more than knee-deep in the surf without one of them nearby. Rin, thinking of her own bad habit of swimming out alone, had only felt hypocritical for the five minutes it took her to conclude that their description of Tohru's enthusiastic "swimming" was painfully accurate.
"Isuzu-san!" Tohru was already glowing with happiness as they met, her eyes shining as she wiped sea spray off her cheek. Back on shore, Kyo gave Rin a look that clearly handed off responsibility for his wife's life to her. "I found you!"
"I wasn't exactly hiding," Rin said, more mildly than she thought the comment really deserved.
"But we've hardly had a chance to talk yet." Tohru evidently stopped trying to tread water and let her feet touch bottom; the waves lapping at her shoulders stopped pushing her back. She studied Rin in the disconcerting way she had--an almost bashful, indirect gaze that somehow made it clear that the person on the receiving end had her full attention. "How are you, really?"
"Nothing's changed in the last hour, so I'm fine. Really." Rin swam backwards, closing her eyes when the next wave threw water over her head. "It gets deeper here," she added, just as Tohru walked after her and then suddenly sank far enough that only the top of her head was visible. She surfaced immediately, sputtering a bit but apparently in no immediate danger of drowning. Rin caught her hand anyway, towing her back to where the footing was more reliable. "Pay attention, will you?"
"I'm okay," Tohru said cheerfully. "That happens all the time."
"I've noticed." One of Tohru's pigtails had stuck to her cheek, making her look closer to five years old than nineteen. Rin freed it, and Tohru's smile changed into something subtler; even before Kyo and Tohru had moved away, they'd often gone long enough without seeing each other for Rin to forget that the trick to calming Tohru's dizzying affection was to let herself be caught. "You should stop making us worry about you."
"I told Kyo I'd be more careful, but I have to practice to get better!"
It took Rin a moment to realize that the lack of honorific on Kyo's name was what had startled her. Tohru and Kyo's wedding had been the first of the year, but it was hard to remember that four months had already passed. "I kind of thought you'd always call him '-kun'," she said. "It seemed like something you'd do."
"Oh." Another change in Tohru's smile, sudden shyness making her look away. "I'm practicing that, too."
I should tell her. Rin bit her lip, tasting the salt crust left by all the waves that had washed over her. 'Guess what, we're having a baby.' It's not that hard.
"Isuzu-san?" Tohru was studying her again, her forehead furrowing as if she were trying to read Rin's mind.
She probably is. Rin shook her head, frowning at the feel of the ends of her hair sticking to her shoulders. "It's nothing. I'm just not feeling very talkative."
"Oh!" Tohru turned away so quickly that Rin almost missed the words that followed. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you wanted to be alone--"
"Hey." Rin touched Tohru's arm before she could get very far. "That isn't what I said. Do you want to just swim a little?"
Tohru nodded. "That sounds like fun."
"I'm glad to see you too, you know."
"You don't usually say things like that," Tohru said.
"I guess we've all got things we're practicing."
**********
Haru was pleasantly surprised by how far into the evening Rin held up. Whether it was the salt air or simply being around a friend for the first time in months, she got through supper and attempted to help Tohru clean up afterwards before exhaustion caught up with her.
"Did you tell Honda-san?" he asked when they were alone in "their" house. The way their day had unfolded was closer to how most people lived, he supposed, but it felt strange to have spent the day near her without having had much chance to talk privately since getting out of bed.
"I still don't want to tell anyone yet," she said, turning to face him. The sunset glowed through the large window behind her, silhouetting her in brilliant colors. "It's still early, and--I don't want anyone to know. Not until we're married." It was paranoia that held her back, not embarrassment. Haru couldn’t think of any way the family could use the fact that she was pregnant against them, but even knowing that the information was in a file in Kana's office was making Rin nervous.
"Thought you might make an exception for her," he offered. "She knows how to keep secrets."
"I know." Rin rested her head back on the pane. "Maybe we should. I don't know when we'll see them again." A small yawn escaped. "Ugh, I could go to sleep right now."
"I know you sleep in weird positions, but that doesn't look like a comfortable spot."
"Funny." She pushed away from the window again and disappeared into the kitchen. When she reappeared with two glasses of water, she settled down beside him on the couch and turned her attention back to the dwindling sunset.
"You're sure you don't want to go back and see the others some more tonight?" she asked eventually, when the sky had faded mostly to monochromes.
"I'm good." He turned to sit sideways, leaning back against the arm of the couch. In the deepening darkness he couldn't see Rin's face clearly, but he could feel her relaxing. "How about you?"
"Fine." The couch shifted a little as she moved closer; he lay down entirely to give her room to stretch out, and she spooned herself against him. Haru closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair, wrapping his arms around her with an awkwardness that they both noticed at the same time.
"I still haven't figured out where to put my hands," he said when she craned her head around to peer at him.
"Anywhere you want." How she could manage to sound both amused and anxious was a bit beyond him when he was trying so hard to put words to his uncertainty. "It's fine, honestly." She took his hand and pressed it against her, where he could almost imagine what it would be like to feel their baby move.
"I don't want you to feel like I'm paying more attention to the baby than you," he said.
Rin burrowed closer, pillowing her head on his arm. "I'm glad you're excited." Her voice began to fade as she made herself more comfortable. "I can feel how much you're going to love him."
"Are you falling asleep right here?" Her answering murmur was unintelligible. Haru repositioned himself a little, kissing the back of her neck. Her fingers tightened on his, a pressure so slight it might have been involuntary. The speed with which she'd begun falling asleep was disconcerting; ordinarily, he almost never saw her sleep unless he happened to wake up in the middle of the night. "Okay. Sweet dreams."
**********
The next two days passed quickly. Haru had half-expected them to be slow, since none of the four of them had made any plans beyond staying fed and trying not to get sunburned, but instead, sunset seemed to come only a few hours after they got up. Tohru, more sensitive to Rin's moods than Kyo was, made sure to take Kyo with her for a long walk each day so Rin could have some time to herself without being the one to leave.
"She managed to keep Yuki and Kyo from killing each other for over two years," Rin commented when she noticed. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised if she's managing me too."
"Guess not," Haru agreed. He hadn't fully realized how much time he and Rin spent in usually-comfortable silence until being around Tohru and Kyo gave him something to compare it to.
"I think they just talk a lot," Rin said when he mentioned it. "Or maybe they talk less when it's just them. But I doubt it."
Tohru was politely refraining from discussing Shigure and Akito's wedding with them, but she bubbled over with other details of what she'd done with her whirlwind days before coming to the beach. She'd spent most of her time surrounded by various Sohmas, except when her friends from school had stolen her away.
"They wouldn't let me come," Kyo had grumbled just before leaving, while he waited for Tohru to come downstairs with a hat. "They both come crash with us on weekends whenever they want, and then they steal Tohru the second we get back to town."
"Well, you get her all the time," Rin had replied.
"Yeah, that's what they said." Kyo had made a face and followed Tohru outside, leaving Rin and Haru to occupy themselves in solitude.
He and Tohru returned a couple of hours later with matching sunburned noses, a copious number of seashells she'd collected to decorate the sand castle she'd been working on--safely out of the waves' reach--and a lush green watermelon.
"They're selling them at the store up the road!" Tohru said, delighted, and then gave Haru a confused look when he started laughing.
"I bought one earlier, Honda-san. That's all," he said. "Sorry we didn't save any--it was pretty small."
"But you'll still have some?" Her hopeful smile turned puzzled when she noticed that Rin was blushing.
"You bet," Haru said. "There's always room for melon."
**********
The third full day was much the same as the previous ones. Early evening found Tohru still on the beach, carefully setting shells around the edges of her sand castle. The pile of shells still beside her was large enough that Rin, who'd only meant to keep her company, calculated there were enough to entirely cover half of the castle. Since Tohru seemed to only be using them for accents, she'd begun filching the less-perfect shells from the heap and assembling them into a mosaic.
Both of them were so engrossed in what they were doing that Haru and Kyo's return from a round of sparring in one of the yards took them by surprise. Tohru grinned and went back to adding the last finishing touches. "I'm almost finished! I'll start supper in just a few minutes."
"We won't starve," Kyo said, crouching to look at the castle. "This is better than your last one."
"It's built to last!"
Kyo's bright smile turned to a blush when he remembered Rin was there. Rather than look at her, he examined what she'd been working on. "You seem different out here, Isuzu."
"Do I?" She kept her eyes on the mosaic, setting a shell into place.
"Yeah. I guess maybe 'cause you look different?"
She looked up at that. "I do?"
"Well, you're not all--" He gestured vaguely at Rin's dress. "You're less spiky. Your clothes are." Rin touched the studded collar that she'd worn almost constantly for the past few months. Kyo grimaced. "You almost look normal."
"You mean we don't wear bathing suits with chains on 'em?" Haru suggested, flopping on the sand.
"Do they even make--" Kyo stopped again. "Oh, forget it."
"Just say I'm shorter," Rin replied. "I haven't been wearing heels." She changed position, intending to brandish a bare foot at him for emphasis, but just then Tohru sat back, wiping her hands together.
"All done!" She jumped up and started to reach down for Rin's hand. Halfway through the motion she frowned and changed course, pressing a palm to Rin's forehead. "Isuzu-san, are you all right?"
Rin automatically tried to duck away. "Sure. Why?"
"Maybe you've had too much sun? You look a bit flushed."
"I feel fine." Her vision went bright and blurry as she started to stand. When it cleared she found herself on her feet, held firmly upright by Haru's grip on her elbows. "Oh. Maybe a little lightheaded." Or a lot. She leaned against Haru, waiting for the sudden pounding in her temples to ease.
Her balance returned quickly, but her pulse kept throbbing uncomfortably. "It's nothing. Too much sun. I think I'll go lie down for a few minutes."
"Would you like to borrow a hat tomorrow?" Tohru asked.
Rin pictured the pair of hats Tohru had brought along. "How about I make sure to stay in the shade?" She caught Haru's hands and squeezed them quickly. "I'll come back soon."
"Want me to come with you?" he asked.
"No, I'm okay." This pronouncement met with a pair of worried stares. She found herself in the unusual position of looking to Kyo for backup, but he only gave her a tiny what-can-you-do shrug. Rin shook her head and started walking, trying not to show how wobbly she felt. "See you in a little while."
Focusing kept her steady as she made her way back to the tiny house. She'd almost reached the door when the first stab of pain pierced her concentration.
**********
Before arriving, Tohru had blithely ignored the phone number Haru had given her for the nearby servants' residence, preferring to stock the kitchen herself rather than sending someone else out to buy groceries for her. The brief vacation was renewing his appreciation for her eye for good food and her ability to produce meals using the most unlikely resources. Watching her bustle around the kitchen as if she'd lived in it for years was oddly hypnotic, and homey in unexpected ways--before she and Kyo had moved away, she had agreed to teach Rin to cook more than the very basic things she already knew.
It made seeing Tohru cut vegetables a whole new experience. Her technique was recognizably the one she'd taught Rin, made quicker by years of practice. It kept distracting Haru from the conversation he was attempting to carry on with her from the kitchen doorway, having long since learned that when Tohru was cooking was not the time to try to venture in.
When Tohru set the knife down and got herself a glass of water, Haru glanced past her to the window. There weren't any clocks in sight, but the growing pile of vegetables was a reasonable indication of how much time had passed. "I'm gonna go see how Rin is. Maybe she fell asleep or something."
**********
Over an hour later, Kyo went looking for them. The front door to the smaller house was cracked open when he arrived, as if it hadn't quite latched properly and had been nudged open by the breeze. He hesitated, looking at it, and finally knocked. There was no answer.
Maybe she forgot about supper and went for a walk and he had to go look for her. Or maybe she conked out. Or maybe they got distracted-- Rather than pursue that train of thought, he reluctantly let himself in, keeping an ear out for any hint that they had gotten distracted and he should turn around and leave again.
The house was silent, but it didn't feel empty. "Hey, Haru?" he called, keeping his voice down. The quiet was oppressive. "Isuzu? You guys coming back for supper? It's ready." From behind one of the bedroom doors, he heard Haru's voice, too quiet for it to be an answer. "What's going on?"
A long silence. "Just a sec," came a muffled reply.
Kyo leaned against the wall and waited, still not sure whether to be embarrassed--or, as the minutes passed, annoyed. He was about to call their names again when the door opened and Haru came out. The evening sun pouring through the front window was bright enough that Kyo had to squint to see him.
What he could make out of Haru's expression banished the irritation that had been building up. "Is Isuzu okay?" he asked. Haru slid the door closed behind him without answering, not seeming to hear. "Hey. Haru!" Kyo moved closer, placing himself directly in Haru's line of sight.
Haru continued scanning the room. "I've gotta find my phone," he said indistinctly.
"This one?" Kyo fished a cell phone off a side table, where it was lying in plain view. "Seriously, what the hell is wrong?"
"I think I need to call Tori-nii."
"What," Kyo said, exaggerating each word, "is wrong? Is Isuzu sick?"
Haru finally focused on him, his face turning guarded. "No," he said, seeming not to notice the phone Kyo was holding out. "She's..." He stopped, choosing his words. "She's having a hard time."
He said nothing else, clearly leaving Kyo to draw a conclusion. It didn't take long; Kyo knew his own tendency to get embarrassed over things that should obviously be kept private, but he'd shared a house with Tohru for most of high school--long enough that he'd known perfectly well before they moved to their own place that it wasn't unusual for girls to have rough months.
"Bad enough that you've gotta call Hatori?"
"Um." Haru finally noticed that Kyo was holding his cell phone and took it. "I want to call Kana-san, actually. Rin went to talk to her about some stuff, but I don't have her number."
That was the most useful thing he'd said since Kyo had arrived. "Want me to call the Main House and get it? Somebody'll know."
"Yeah. That'd be great."
Since he hadn't brought his own phone with him, Kyo went outside with Haru's. It only took one call. One of the convenient things Akito had done in the last year was give standing orders to her staff to prioritize any requests from formerly-cursed family members, whether they ever visited the House in person or not. Akito's secretary, a woman whose name Kyo didn't know, sounded positively grateful to be finding the answer to a simple question.
He had to go back inside the house to find a pen and paper. After scribbling the number down, he brought it and the phone to where Haru was waiting in the living room, looking as if he hadn't budged since Kyo had left.
"Thanks," Haru said, taking them from him. "Can you tell Honda-san we won't be back for supper? Sorry about that."
"She'll understand. She'll probably want to come right up, though."
Alarm sparked in Haru's eyes. "I don't think Rin'll want to see anybody. Maybe tomorrow?"
"I'll tell her," Kyo said dubiously. "Can I say you'll call if you need her?"
"Yeah. Thanks," Haru said. "And sorry."
"You already said that. Hope Isuzu feels better." He had the distinct impression Haru still wasn't going to move until he was gone, so he shrugged and headed back down to the other house.
**********
Later, Haru had to carefully calculate how much time had passed before Kyo came to check on them, and before that, how long Rin had been gone before he'd gone looking for her. It felt like one endless moment since he'd found her huddled in the toilet room, dry-eyed, with crescent gouges in her palms that deepened every time a spasm of pain drove her nails in.
"Tell me," he'd said, kneeling beside her, and she'd tightened her arms around her knees, a soft, horrible sound catching in her throat.
"I'm bleeding. A lot." She'd taken the hand he offered her, clenching down on it. "I'm sorry, I--"
She hadn't really looked at him since. She'd let him help her to the bedroom, let him rub her back and hold her, but she'd retreated somewhere inside herself.
She let him do the talking when he finally had Kana on the phone, speaking up only when Kana asked something Haru couldn't answer. She went more and more ashen while the conversation continued, but when he offered to take it to the living room she shook her head and left the room, visibly shaky but gesturing for him to stay put.
By the time he hung up she'd come back to the bed, sitting up and curled tightly around herself. Haru sat beside her gingerly, trying not to jar her.
"Did Kana-san say how long it would take?" It was the first thing she'd said to him directly since he'd found her.
"She said it varies a lot." It was no answer at all, but Rin only nodded, taking his hand again and gripping it with unexpected strength. "She said it was probably too late to do anything by the time you realized something was wrong." Haru ground his free palm against his eyes. "She...she says these things just happen, and right now we've gotta wait it out."
"I see."
"How bad is it?" One of Kana's first questions had been whether Rin could rate the pain. "She's got really high pain tolerance," he'd heard himself saying, watching Rin's face while she tried to decide on an answer, as if tolerance and experience were the same.
On a scale of one to ten, from cracked ribs to a rock tearing your back open like paper--
"Bad." She leaned into him, as if her head were too heavy to hold up. "Don't let go."
"I won't," he said. "Do you want to lie down?"
"I'd only have to get up again." Harsh, shallow breaths spoke volumes about how much pain she was in. "I just want it to be over," she said, and then she was quiet again for a long time.
Haru kept holding her, rocking her while she trembled and hurt in his arms, almost feverishly hot. "Breathe," he whispered, over and over, kissing her hair. "Just keep breathing. It'll be okay." He'd been talking her through things--nightmares, the sporadic times when emotion drove her past words, the occasional truly dark mood--for years, long enough that the stream of words came naturally at first.
The sudden realization that their baby's life might have begun to the sound of the same endearments and reassurances he was saying now, as that life slipped away, made the sound of his own voice obscene. "Rin," he whispered, not expecting a reply.
"I'm here," she said, as if she'd heard what was going through his head. "I hear you." She untangled herself from his arms, wincing. "Could you--I don't think there're any more painkillers here."
He didn't ask how many she'd had to take to finish off the house's supply; the staff who maintained the summer homes tended to make sure there was a little of everything the family could need in each building, but not a lot of any one thing. Rin's dislike of pills made her prone to under-medicating herself rather than the reverse. "I'll find some."
"Thanks." She met his eyes briefly as she touched his cheek. "I'll be here."
**********
It was full dark when he went outside, and he stood on the veranda for just a minute, breathing the salt smell rising from the sea. Its blackness made the star-strewn sky seem almost bright in comparison. Haru looked out at both of them, absurdly grateful for how small they made him feel. "Please let her be okay," he said, as if either the ocean or the sky were listening.
**********
Less than an hour had passed by the time he got back--less time than he'd feared, given the darkness and his notorious ability to lose his way, but either urgency or some lingering sense of where Rin was and what she needed kept him on the right path. He switched a lamp on in the living room when he came in, already listening for her.
Another lamp was still on in the empty bedroom, but the only other light in the house came from around the edges of the toilet room door. "Rin?"
He didn't think there were any words in the faint sound of acknowledgement that came in response. He walked over to the door and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. "I'm back. I'm right here if you need me."
"Okay," came faintly from the other side, and that was all.
To distract himself, Haru began unpacking the bag he'd brought back. The matronly woman who'd answered his knock at the largest of the summer houses either wasn't one of the servants who'd known about the Jyuunishi curse or else she had overcome the superstitious awe that had often come with the knowledge. It had been all he could do to persuade her not to accompany him back once he'd explained that Rin wasn't feeling well; not liking to lie, but also unwilling to give even the most motherly of servants an interesting piece of gossip, he'd resorted to saying that Rin tended to have bad cramps--not true--hoping she'd take his awkwardness for embarrassment.
To make up for sending him back alone, the woman had quickly packed up at least five different types of medication, fresh yukata for both of them, a separate bundle of what she called "womanly supplies" (complete with a warning look), and finally, when Haru admitted that neither of them had eaten since lunch, some food.
Alone in the kitchen, Haru eyed the food and concluded that he didn't have the stomach for it. Some of it went into the refrigerator, but not all; he opened a cupboard at random, still not really sure where things went in the kitchen, especially since Rin had gone through it when they'd first arrived.
The cupboard mostly held dried goods, but there were a few bottles of medicine on one shallow shelf, where Rin couldn't have missed them when she'd looked around. He took down the bottle of ibuprofen and opened it, just to be sure.
He allowed himself a few moments of frustration, and then tried to shrug it off. Really not the time. "She knows what she needs," he said under his breath. "Get over it."
That frustration ebbed, but what replaced it was worse: the ache to be with her, to touch her, to be doing something, as if there was anything that could be done.
He finally went back into the living room, where he sat still when he could, resorting to practicing kata when he couldn't. He called to Rin from time to time, and she always answered--short, quiet replies that betrayed nothing but the knowledge that he'd come check on her if she didn't.
A small eternity later she cracked the door open and said she needed a shower. "Hang on a sec," he said, and headed back into the kitchen for the bag the servant had sent. It was still full of everything but the food. "In case there's anything you need," he said, handing it to her. He watched her surreptitiously while she sorted through it.
"Some of this'll help." Rin pressed the back of her hand against the smaller yukata. "I've got to get out of these clothes, and I couldn't stand thinking about anything else I brought." She crossed the hall to the bathing room, her eyes so shadowed and red-tinged that he cringed inside. "I'll be out soon, okay?"
"Sure."
It was another half hour before she emerged, bundled into the yukata, and joined him on the couch. She shook her head before he could say anything, rescuing a book she'd abandoned on the floor earlier in the day, and lay down with her head in his lap.
"Want me to turn the light off?" he asked.
"No." Exhaustion had carved lines into her face. "I think that was the worst of it," she said finally, her voice so small he had to strain to hear it. "There was an awful lot of blood, and--now I just hurt. Less, I think."
"Do you want some painkillers now?"
"Yes." There was a hint of guilt in the way she looked at him as she moved to let him up.
"It's all right," he said, and went to get them. He didn't watch to see how many she took. "I'm gonna go get changed too."
The bathing room, when he went in to rinse his face, showed almost no sign that anything had been wrong--only the bundle of clothing in the garbage and the faint, metallic scent of blood lingering under the smell of soap remained as evidence. Haru shuddered, staring at his reflection while he dampened a cloth and quickly washed the worst of the sweat off his body. His own clothes joined Rin's in the garbage before he put on the second yukata and found a spare blanket in the closet.
Rin was lying on her side on the couch, looking out the window, or at the glare of the lamp reflected in it. "Hey," he said, kneeling on the floor beside her and tucking the blanket around her.
"Hey," she echoed, turning her head to let him kiss her temple.
"Think you can you sleep?"
"No." She licked her lips uncomfortably. "Haru?"
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"I'm sorry."
"Don't say that." He kissed her face again, smoothing her hair back. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Could you read to me for a little while?" she asked, drawing his attention to the closed book in her hand. Her voice was still alarmingly quiet. "It might take my mind off it. And yours."
"Okay." He rearranged himself so he was still sitting on the floor by the couch, at just the right height to put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder. "From the beginning?"
"Please."
He took the book from her, angling it to best catch the lamplight, and started to read.
**********
Unexpectedly, it was hunger that made Rin stop trying to sleep a little while after dawn. Haru had fallen asleep an hour or two before, after reading to her for most of the night. When he'd gotten cold sitting on the floor he'd come up onto the couch with her, sharing the blanket, and for a little while it had been almost as if the past day and night hadn't happened. Almost, except for the way Haru had periodically trailed off mid-sentence, looking blankly at the page, and except for the waves of cramping pain that kept coming, bearable now, but still too intense to ignore--or sleep through, although her eyes and muscles burned with exhaustion.
Remembering that Haru had said the family servant had sent food back for them, she went into the kitchen and discovered she had just about enough energy to put soy sauce on rice and take it outside.
The sun was still low enough in the sky that the front veranda was in shadow, but she sat down anyway, eating slowly without paying much attention to either the food or her surroundings. The steady roll of the surf was comforting, something to focus on other than the way she hurt and the way Haru's voice had kept catching as he read to her. Every time her thoughts wandered too close, she let the sea pull them away again.
"Hey, Isuzu?"
Kyo's voice startled her into dropping the mostly-empty bowl. It toppled off her lap and might have rolled off the edge of the veranda entirely if Kyo hadn't been close enough to catch it. "Sorry," he said. "Thought you heard me."
"No one ever hears you coming," she retorted, not caring if he mistook the bite in her voice for the old Jyuunishi habit of pushing the Cat away.
"Good morning to you too," he shot back, nettled. "Tohru wants to know if you and Haru are coming down for breakfast. Your phones're shut off."
"I guess they are." She rubbed at her eyes. "Haru's still asleep."
"You feeling better?" Kyo lowered his voice as he crouched beside her, sizing her up. "You look like hell."
"What did Haru tell you?"
"Just that you weren't feeling good. Why?"
"No reason." She tried to sit up straighter, to look less obviously drained. "He'll probably go over later."
Kyo fidgeted, flexing his fingers in much the same way Haru tended to. Rin stared at his hands. It was as if she'd never looked at them before, never seen that small similarity between the two boys--men--although unlike Haru, Kyo left his ring alone. The wedding band was the only jewelry Rin had ever seen him wear other than his protective beads. Maybe he learned the hard way not to play with his jewelry.
"Tohru wants me to ask if she can come see you, if you're sticking around here today."
Without intending to, Rin looked back out at the waves, away from him. "She can do whatever she wants."
"Right." Kyo stood with a familiar sound of frustration. "D'you need anything before I go tell her that?"
"No," she said, wishing he would leave. Except-- "Wait. Can you get my camera without waking Haru up?"
"Where is it?"
"I think it's by the kitchen. But Haru's sleeping on the couch."
"Why's he--never mind. Sure." Kyo took her chopsticks from her and vanished into the house like a shadow, only the faint sound of the door opening marking his passage. He was back within minutes, holding her camera bag instead of her breakfast dishes. "Haru's out cold. Is this it?"
"Yes. Thanks."
When she looked up again, Kyo was gone.
**********
Haru was used to waking up alone. Rin slept less than he did, even when she slept peacefully; on the rare occasions when he opened his eyes to find her beside him, it meant she'd gotten up and later come back to bed on a whim.
What he wasn't used to was her complete absence, and the unfamiliar house felt empty in a way that made him jerk upright before he was fully awake, looking for her even before his memory of the previous night caught up to him.
He found her outside, barefoot and wearing only the light yukata. Her camera lay in her lap, its strap wrapped securely around her wrist. Only the stiff way she was leaning against the house's wall betrayed that she was awake.
"What're you doing?" he asked, joining her.
"Listening." Her eyes stayed shut, and minutes passed before she said anything more. Haru listened too, waiting, until she added, "I took some pictures of the water."
"How do you feel?"
"Not great." Her stillness changed, became wary as she finally looked at him. "How about you?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "It almost doesn't seem real." She nodded, although he wasn't sure it was agreement.
"Kyo was here. I think Tohru's going to come later." Her gaze wavered, slid back to the sea. "I'll have to tell them something," she said. She gripped his hand as if she were trying to keep her balance. "I don't look okay, do I?"
"No." Haru rubbed her fingers, shivering at the chill in them and the hollow look on her face. Just beyond the veranda the sand looked inviting and warm, but without direct sunlight hitting them the morning breeze was cool. "No, you don't." He rested his head against hers with a sigh. "Will you be all right if I go get a shower?"
"I want to stay out here a while longer."
"Okay." He kissed her cheek and went inside to retrieve the blanket from the couch, a pillow from the second bedroom, and some sunscreen. Rin didn't protest when he brought them to her, so he tucked the blanket around her legs and feet, which felt even colder than her hands when his skin brushed against hers.
"I can put sunscreen on myself," she said when he lingered. It wasn't quite "stop hovering", but he took the hint and went inside to wash up.
He had almost finished showering when the soap slipped out of his hands. It wasn't until he'd tried and failed to pick it up that he realized it was because his hands were shaking, that his breathing had gone out of control. "Damn," he muttered, resting against the wall to steady himself. Hot water streamed over his face like an illusion of tears. "I don't even know what she's feeling."
I don't even know what I'm feeling. The emotions running through him were too tightly tangled to pick through, rooted in sorrow for a child he would never know, whose existence he'd been aware of for little more than a week.
He stood there for a long time, inhaling the steam while he tried to sift through his feelings. The impulse to let his thoughts go somewhere--anywhere--else was desperately tempting. He could do it; one of the hardest-won lessons he'd taken from the year and a half he and Rin had been apart was how easily he could push unwanted thoughts to the back of his mind until he could tell himself they weren't there at all.
He could do it. He could pretend he didn't have a good idea of the turns Rin's thoughts were taking, that he wasn't intimately aware of her mind's particular ways of gnawing away at itself. Or he could let his body take over, attack the unyielding wall because it was there, because he could never overcome it before it wore him down and left him with pure, physical pain to match the hurt he couldn't take away from her.
Or he could do what the man he was trying to shape himself into would do because that man wouldn't be able to imagine doing otherwise.
**********
If Rin had moved an inch since he'd gone inside, it wasn't obvious. Haru sat beside her and studied her without speaking, and eventually she tore her gaze away from the breaking waves. "What do you want me to say?" she asked, very quietly.
"I don't want you to say anything in particular."
"I'm sor--"
"Especially not that." He took her hands and chafed them between his. "Do you feel cold?"
"No," she said, showing no sign that she realized her teeth were chattering.
"To me you feel like you just came in out of the rain in winter. Have you eaten anything?"
"Yes." Her eyes glittered; he didn't ask if the anger was at his question or her own answer.
"You don't look sick," he said. "Honda-san's gonna be able to tell that's not what's going on. What do you want to tell her?" Rin stared back at him, confusion eclipsing the anger. "That's all we have to do right now--decide what to tell them. I know you can fake being mostly okay, and I know if you do you'll be wrecked for a while. I'll help you if that's what you need to do."
"You're being awfully practical," she said. "Tell her. What difference does it make?" If she'd been angry a moment before, she was furious now, her voice low and merciless. "All I need to do is recover--" she nearly choked on the word "--and life goes back to normal." She pulled her hands away and clenched them in her lap. "I'm so sick of recovering."
"I know."
"It doesn't even hurt that much now." She curled more tightly around herself, looking back at the shore, and the wind almost stole her voice. "Why doesn't it hurt more?"
He couldn't say I don't know. Instead, he asked, "Do you want me to go tell them, then?"
"Please." She didn't resist when he stroked her hair as he stood, but her shoulders slumped. "Haru?"
"Yeah?"
"You shouldn't pretend to be okay either." She took a deep breath, tipping her head back. "I need to think for a while."
She didn't say anything else, and Haru left her alone.
**********
The sun was high enough in the sky that its light reflected from the water back into Rin's eyes by the time Tohru arrived.
"I brought you some lunch," was all Tohru said at first, setting a small wrapped bento and a glass of water down between them as she sat.
Rin didn't turn her head; all she could see was the green sun dress Tohru was wearing. The wind was picking up, and Tohru was in pigtails again. Seeing that much was all right. Pigtails weren't part of Tohru's arsenal for cracking people open like oysters, and she wasn't looking at Rin or trying to make conversation.
They sat, and the sun rose higher. Rin moved only to retrieve her camera when the light on the waves was blinding, to capture the watery blaze of it, and if Tohru moved closer while she was doing that, it was tolerable.
After she'd taken a third picture, Tohru touched her hand, very carefully, as if Rin were made of glass.
"I won't break," Rin said, letting her hand be taken, and Tohru squeezed.
"You never break," she agreed.
"You say that like it's something sad."
If Tohru had thoughts on that, she kept them to herself. "I'm going to head back so you can eat," she said. "Would you like me to send Hatsuharu-san over?"
"Where is he?"
"With Kyo-kun." The old honorific slipped out. Rin didn't comment. "Can I come back later?"
"Aren't you two heading home tonight?"
She felt the look Tohru gave her, but kept her face turned to the water. "I don't think so." Tohru got up slowly, smoothing her skirt down over her thighs. "I'll come back."
"Tohru--"
"Yes?"
"Can you do something for me?"
"Anything."
"Anything," Rin echoed, closing her eyes against the temptation to look at her. "Can you call Yuki? He's still in town, right?"
"Yes," Tohru said, and then, "Oh."
"Haru needs--" Her throat felt as if it were rusting. "It doesn't even matter. He won't take anything from me right now. He's touching me like I'm going to shatter. Just like you were. And I won't. But I can't give him what he needs right now."
Tohru's embrace was brief and fierce. Rin had enough time to feel how hot Tohru's skin was where it touched hers, and then Tohru let go before Rin could decide whether to push her away. "I'll come back later, Isuzu-san."
**********
Haru returned not long after Tohru left; like her, he sat in silence for a while, close enough that Rin could lean against him if she wanted to. She didn't. "What're you seeing out there?" he asked eventually, following her gaze out to sea.
"How big it is. All that water--" The sharp way she cut herself off reminded Haru of nothing so much as someone taking a blow to the windpipe, the kind where pain was drowned out utterly by panic.
"What about it?"
Her pulse fluttered visibly in her neck. "It could hold so many lives."
"All the life in the world, I bet."
"It's a good place for a water child to stay." She wrapped the blanket tighter around her hands. "I can't talk to you about this. Not yet."
I don't need you to talk yet. I need you to need me. But he was no more able to say that aloud than she was able to tell him whatever was running through her mind.
Something of it crept into his voice, into her name, against his will. "Rin, you can tell me anything."
At that, she finally looked at him. "Didn't he know how much you wanted him?" And that was the answer to the question he'd known he didn't have to ask, in what she wasn't saying: He knew how much I wanted him. Not enough.
Haru touched his rings one by one, choosing his words. "Maybe he knew wanting isn't the same as being ready." From the corner of his eye he could see the tide coming in, challenging and changing the demarcation between ocean and land. Water child. Gone without ever having been fully with them. "Maybe he wasn't ready, either. Maybe he tasted the world and didn't like it enough."
"Do you believe that?"
He made a face. "I believe spirits'll do whatever they feel like."
The fragile laugh that won him was as bitter as it was amused. "True." She freed a hand from the blanket and brought it to his face. "Later? Please?"
"Okay." He kissed her wrist and went to look for Tohru and Kyo.
Go to part 3 (DW link).
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