Categories > Anime/Manga > Fruits Basket > Bite-Sized Fruits: A Collection of Furuba Drabbles
And even for that do I love you the more.
I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,
The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:
Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,
Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
What worser place can I beg in your love,
And yet a place of high respect with me,--
Than to be used as you use your dog?
~Helena to Demetrius, A Midsummer Night's Dream
Shigure knelt by the futon, watching his God sleep, blissfully unaware of his presence.
Moonlight and shadow played across her delicate features, and as he looked on, his face reflected a myriad of emotions -- devotion and love, certainly (none of the Juunishi could deny their Kami-sama that which she demanded), affection (in his own youth he had cradled her slender, curveless body with fraternal arms), but after a moment, his generous mouth pressed into a hard, uncompromising line, showing neither love nor affection. Dark eyes sparked with something darker -- passion, perhaps. Perhaps desire. It lasted only a moment, but something untamed flickered in Shigure's gaze, and then it was gone, smothered as he tamped down on it, crushing it beneath his heel.
And there, twined around and running through love and devotion -- and tickling those darker emotions he kept so well-hidden -- there was the black thread of resentment and hate. He loved her beyond thought, and hated that he could find no reason to love her. She was brutal, selfish, violent. She hadn't always been -- he could remember a time when she hadn't tried so hard to possess him, when her own affection hadn't been tainted. In the shadows of his memory, she existed as she'd once been -- her past-self.
Shigure's fingers slid through the soft locks of silky hair, trailing down the side of her face -- a gentle gesture, and one that did not wake her. Downward he continued, until his fingertips brushed her delicate collarbone. The Dog's hand rested there for a moment before slowly creeping upwards, fingers easily spanning across her neck.
Such a slender, pale, lovely neck. So easily broken.
For a moment, it seems as if the Dog could do it: free himself, and the rest of them -- albeit temporarily -- by forsaking their God, by squeezing that delicate neck until the thundering pulse in her body died, taking with it limitless cruelty and abuse. Such an action would free her as well.
He wants to. His fingers twitch. He tells himself it would be a kindness to her. That it would be the best thing for all of them. It would undo years of careful planning, but, a traitorous voice whispers, wouldn't it be worth it?
But then, suddenly, with a sound that is too much like a sob, the Dog pulls his hand away as if burned. His throat aches, as if someone had tightened a choke collar around his neck.
He can't do it.
He turns away from her then, unable to look upon her sleeping face. His hoarse whisper is soft, barely audible even in the silent room.
"And even for that do I love you the more."
I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius,
The more you beat me, I will fawn on you:
Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me,
Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave,
Unworthy as I am, to follow you.
What worser place can I beg in your love,
And yet a place of high respect with me,--
Than to be used as you use your dog?
~Helena to Demetrius, A Midsummer Night's Dream
Shigure knelt by the futon, watching his God sleep, blissfully unaware of his presence.
Moonlight and shadow played across her delicate features, and as he looked on, his face reflected a myriad of emotions -- devotion and love, certainly (none of the Juunishi could deny their Kami-sama that which she demanded), affection (in his own youth he had cradled her slender, curveless body with fraternal arms), but after a moment, his generous mouth pressed into a hard, uncompromising line, showing neither love nor affection. Dark eyes sparked with something darker -- passion, perhaps. Perhaps desire. It lasted only a moment, but something untamed flickered in Shigure's gaze, and then it was gone, smothered as he tamped down on it, crushing it beneath his heel.
And there, twined around and running through love and devotion -- and tickling those darker emotions he kept so well-hidden -- there was the black thread of resentment and hate. He loved her beyond thought, and hated that he could find no reason to love her. She was brutal, selfish, violent. She hadn't always been -- he could remember a time when she hadn't tried so hard to possess him, when her own affection hadn't been tainted. In the shadows of his memory, she existed as she'd once been -- her past-self.
Shigure's fingers slid through the soft locks of silky hair, trailing down the side of her face -- a gentle gesture, and one that did not wake her. Downward he continued, until his fingertips brushed her delicate collarbone. The Dog's hand rested there for a moment before slowly creeping upwards, fingers easily spanning across her neck.
Such a slender, pale, lovely neck. So easily broken.
For a moment, it seems as if the Dog could do it: free himself, and the rest of them -- albeit temporarily -- by forsaking their God, by squeezing that delicate neck until the thundering pulse in her body died, taking with it limitless cruelty and abuse. Such an action would free her as well.
He wants to. His fingers twitch. He tells himself it would be a kindness to her. That it would be the best thing for all of them. It would undo years of careful planning, but, a traitorous voice whispers, wouldn't it be worth it?
But then, suddenly, with a sound that is too much like a sob, the Dog pulls his hand away as if burned. His throat aches, as if someone had tightened a choke collar around his neck.
He can't do it.
He turns away from her then, unable to look upon her sleeping face. His hoarse whisper is soft, barely audible even in the silent room.
"And even for that do I love you the more."
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