Categories > Anime/Manga > Fruits Basket > Bite-Sized Fruits: A Collection of Furuba Drabbles
The More Things Change
0 reviewsThe Request: Write a "missing scene" for Volume 2, Chapter 9 of Fruits Basket, where Mayuko spies Hatori at the Cultural Festival. (Mayuko/Hatori)
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The students milled about, visiting the various booths, sampling food and playing games. Overall, Mayuko was of the opinion that this year was the best Cultural Festival so far. However, even this year wasn't immune to instances of bizarre student behavior. Mayu felt a stab of sympathy for this year's recipient of unwanted attention: Sohma Yuki, who -- for reasons beyond Mayu's comprehension -- had actually agreed to wear the dress the sempai had bestowed on him.
She shook her head, rolling her eyes. Silly girls. Sure, this was a high school. And, yes, it wasn't a surprise that some of the female students would choose a young man upon whom to direct their focus and their rampaging hormones. But a /dress/? That, Mayu simply didn't understand. He was clearly miserable, clearly uncomfortable -- so why did he bother? Was it a matter of respect for the upper-classmen? Did he feel obligated?
And even if he did feel obligated, what the hell did cross-dressing have to do with...
Don't try and understand it. You'll give yourself a headache.
Folding her arms, she leaned against the wall, casting an observant eye over the students. Aside from Sohma-kun, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, which made Mayu's lips curve in a small, pleased smile. Things were going well, and when things went well, Mayuko could relax. It allowed her to be composed and professional when she met some of the students' parents, and it allowed her to enjoy herself.
Of course, there are some things for which we can never be truly prepared, and when Mayuko's eyes caught sight of a familiar, dark head well above the rest of the crowd, Mayu felt her calm slide away as her eyes widened.
No. It can't be...
It was. It was, and she'd known it even from the tiny glimpse she'd been afforded. Then he turned, and any remaining doubt was washed away by a piercing blue gaze.
Sohma Hatori.
Here. Now.
The moisture leeched out of her mouth, and seemed to go straight to her palms, which were damp and cold with sweat. There was a steady pounding that seemed to reverberate through her entire chest, and it felt as if every inch of Mayu's skin was hyperaware of her surroundings. Swallowing hard, the schoolteacher wiped her hands on her pants and looked down quickly, hoping against hope that he hadn't seen her, that he wouldn't recognize her. Her stomach gave a violent flip and, despite the fact that Mayu's face felt as if it were on fire, she closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath into her lungs.
She exhaled and snuck a glance at the doctor through the fall of her bangs, praying the deep, cleansing breath had been enough to settle her.
It hadn't.
Two years. It had been two years -- maybe less, maybe more -- since she'd seen him. In that time, this awkwardness should have melted away -- it should have faded. Seeing him shouldn't have had the effect it had on her. She should have been able to smile politely and nod and, goddamn it, think of something remotely intelligent to say.
Instead, it just reminded her why she'd always tried to stay away.
Old affection tightened its painful gossamer strands around her heart and she looked back down at her hands. He was not hers -- would never be hers. Kana-chan had moved on -- she was getting married later that year. And yet, Hatori remained. Mayu remained. And both of them remembered what had almost been and would never be.
His sadness was still palpable, even after all this time, and it nearly choked her. She could think of no one else who deserved happiness as much as he did, and yet it seemed to elude him. It was as if his melancholy kept him in a cage, trapping him, forbidding him from knowing happiness.
But then, no. No, that wasn't quite right either. He was a willing prisoner, wasn't he?
Somehow, this idea bothered her even more.
Tears pricked at her eyes and Mayu swore silently. Shaking her head, she turned on her heel and fled the noisy gymnasium, hurried steps taking her to the only sanctuary she could think of: the teacher's lounge. The door closed and she leaned against it, pressing cool hands to her flaming face.
And somewhere beneath the pounding heart and nervous stomach, even Mayuko could not ignore the irony of the situation, given her earlier thoughts.
Sometimes a schoolgirl-crush is not something that is erased with age.
She shook her head, rolling her eyes. Silly girls. Sure, this was a high school. And, yes, it wasn't a surprise that some of the female students would choose a young man upon whom to direct their focus and their rampaging hormones. But a /dress/? That, Mayu simply didn't understand. He was clearly miserable, clearly uncomfortable -- so why did he bother? Was it a matter of respect for the upper-classmen? Did he feel obligated?
And even if he did feel obligated, what the hell did cross-dressing have to do with...
Don't try and understand it. You'll give yourself a headache.
Folding her arms, she leaned against the wall, casting an observant eye over the students. Aside from Sohma-kun, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, which made Mayu's lips curve in a small, pleased smile. Things were going well, and when things went well, Mayuko could relax. It allowed her to be composed and professional when she met some of the students' parents, and it allowed her to enjoy herself.
Of course, there are some things for which we can never be truly prepared, and when Mayuko's eyes caught sight of a familiar, dark head well above the rest of the crowd, Mayu felt her calm slide away as her eyes widened.
No. It can't be...
It was. It was, and she'd known it even from the tiny glimpse she'd been afforded. Then he turned, and any remaining doubt was washed away by a piercing blue gaze.
Sohma Hatori.
Here. Now.
The moisture leeched out of her mouth, and seemed to go straight to her palms, which were damp and cold with sweat. There was a steady pounding that seemed to reverberate through her entire chest, and it felt as if every inch of Mayu's skin was hyperaware of her surroundings. Swallowing hard, the schoolteacher wiped her hands on her pants and looked down quickly, hoping against hope that he hadn't seen her, that he wouldn't recognize her. Her stomach gave a violent flip and, despite the fact that Mayu's face felt as if it were on fire, she closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath into her lungs.
She exhaled and snuck a glance at the doctor through the fall of her bangs, praying the deep, cleansing breath had been enough to settle her.
It hadn't.
Two years. It had been two years -- maybe less, maybe more -- since she'd seen him. In that time, this awkwardness should have melted away -- it should have faded. Seeing him shouldn't have had the effect it had on her. She should have been able to smile politely and nod and, goddamn it, think of something remotely intelligent to say.
Instead, it just reminded her why she'd always tried to stay away.
Old affection tightened its painful gossamer strands around her heart and she looked back down at her hands. He was not hers -- would never be hers. Kana-chan had moved on -- she was getting married later that year. And yet, Hatori remained. Mayu remained. And both of them remembered what had almost been and would never be.
His sadness was still palpable, even after all this time, and it nearly choked her. She could think of no one else who deserved happiness as much as he did, and yet it seemed to elude him. It was as if his melancholy kept him in a cage, trapping him, forbidding him from knowing happiness.
But then, no. No, that wasn't quite right either. He was a willing prisoner, wasn't he?
Somehow, this idea bothered her even more.
Tears pricked at her eyes and Mayu swore silently. Shaking her head, she turned on her heel and fled the noisy gymnasium, hurried steps taking her to the only sanctuary she could think of: the teacher's lounge. The door closed and she leaned against it, pressing cool hands to her flaming face.
And somewhere beneath the pounding heart and nervous stomach, even Mayuko could not ignore the irony of the situation, given her earlier thoughts.
Sometimes a schoolgirl-crush is not something that is erased with age.
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