Work Text:
Monday Evening…
Days since accident: 15.
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Tohru heard somewhere that a home wasn’t yours until you somehow made it your own. And yet, they—whoever they was, although “they” must have been plenty wise—never did specify the steps you took to make something your own. Did they leave behind little marks? Did they just whisper the words under their breath, the magic imbuing the space to form a ‘home’? By that logic, Tohru wasn’t sure if she really had a home. Not anymore.
Dishware clattered, soon followed by the sound of rushing water from the faucet. Tohru bounced on her toes as she peered out. The pack beside her hip felt both empty and heavy somehow, as it always did during a reconnaissance. Every time she went on her borrowing excursions, she was reminded of times long past—ones she’d spent trying to brave the outdoors (the backyard). She’d never had to worry about that when she lived with her mom. It’d been precisely thirteen years since she had felt this: anxiousness.
Tohru’s numbing fingers squeezed her grappling tools, reminding herself not to cry when more memories slipped through. This was how life was now, and although she loved those memories, she had to hold them back. She couldn’t risk falling hundreds of feet because her eyes were marred by tears. She’d hate for the way they discovered her to be because she was a splatter on the floor.
The sound of bickering snapped her into the present, and she laughed a little in spite of herself. Her housemates never seemed to get along. She’d only been living in this house for a week or two now, but she’d grown somewhat accustomed to the boys never being able to see eye-to-eye. Why they fared so poorly when they were together, Tohru really couldn’t say.
Though whenever their bickering escalated into shouting and a few punches, age-old terror snuck into her heart. Sixty-foot humans had that sort of effect on someone who wasn’t any bigger than a mouse, after all.
“You can fake it all you want, you dirty rat, but you can’t fool me! You’re just scared of messing up your perfect little scores because that’s all you do. You couldn’t beat me in an obstacle race!”
Kyo Sohma, the orange-haired boy. He was a little prickly sometimes, but whenever Tohru peeked into his room from her hideaway, he was always studiously doing his work or training for…whatever it was humans did aside from school. Her mom had stressed that education was important, and had always read to her as many books as she could squeeze in between working hours. Regardless, Tohru didn’t really even know what school was, other than it was a place of learning. And Kyo seemed to scowl whenever Shigure brought it up.
Behind closed doors however, Kyo’s face didn’t seem to hold nearly of the same scowl as what happened around his cousin, Yuki. In fact, he tended to look more approachable. Not that she had ever plucked up the courage to strike up a conversation with him. Mom had been the only human she’d exposed herself to, and it was with great fortune her mother had loved her fiercely, despite how Tohru came.
She still couldn’t fathom why Kyo called Yuki a rat, just as Yuki called Kyo a cat. They were strange insults, especially when both animals could be incredibly cute to look at, but she could understand the danger in both all the same.
If Kyo was a ripened bushel of energy, then Yuki was his antithesis; everything about Yuki was well put-together, neat, and orderly. She’d found that out just by trying to borrow a couple of thumbtacks from his room. Hoping that they stayed unnoticed always felt like pushing her luck. Nonetheless, it was because of Yuki’s calm demeanor that made him a bit intimidating. Not in same way as Kyo was, but equally enough. When Kyo was involved, annoyance bled through to Yuki’s smile…
“I’ll believe it when I see it. Otherwise, you’re still incompetent,” she heard Yuki say.
Eventually, their bickering disappeared around the corner, leaving the kitchen to no one else other than Tohru. Her pigtails swayed as she poked her head out from her hiding place. It was kind of the Sohmas to stay so tight on their schedule. They ate and finished dishes roughly around the same hour each evening, their late days usually a result of school activities, training for Kyo, or Shigure’s book meetings. The caretaker of the boys—Shigure—had been an enigma to her. A nightowl too, which made him somewhat of a worry. Tohru had sworn she’d had a few close calls with his tendency to midnight snack. Luckily, nothing ever came of it.
With strong but careful fingers, Tohru peeled back the corner of the wallpaper, taking in a deep breath of cooked rice and—more importantly—fresh air. In the walls of someone’s house, there was a lot of stale, deadened air and dust. So much dust. Even when she tried to sweep some of it out of her ‘bedroom,’ it seemed to blow back onto her belongings once again. She’d forgotten how much cleaner things were when she was allowed to live as another human would, but unfortunately, she fell back into old routines easily. It wasn’t like she had lived with Mom’s knowingness all of her life. Just thirteen years of it…
Tohru slapped her cheeks. I’m fine. I’ve already been doing this for almost a month! I’m a pro!
Brandishing her earring-turned-grappling-hook, Tohru scaled the cabinets and landed on the kitchen counter. Her shoes absorbed some of the residual water from the clean up as she walked across. Thankfully, it wouldn’t leave any shoeprints, so she tried to ignore the squelching and soggy feeling when she journeyed toward the rice cooker. It was still hooked up to the outlet and in the process of cooling off. She’d learned once before to wait a few minutes more before climbing in. The cooker stayed hotter for much longer than first glance betrayed.
Since learning their habits, Tohru had noticed Kyo would always wash the rice cooker twice because there were a few grains left inside. At first, she thought it was a mistake he caught once in a while, but it happened every time. It was the only assurance she had to take extra grains left in the large bowl. It was dinner for her, until it turned into a way to help them clean. Wasn’t that kind of what mice did when they ate some of the crumbs around the house before they were swept or vacuumed away? There wasn’t much she was able to do, but it was the little things that counted, Tohru told herself.
She sat down on the floor, opening her satchel to pull out her casing of sticky tape. She wasn’t sure if it was flypaper or duct tape, but whatever it was, it worked. When you were a borrower, you learned how to be resourceful; a lot of the things humans made were far more effective for someone like her than for them. After all, the adhesive of tape wouldn’t last very long against their strong grip, but for someone like her—whose weight barely caused any tearing—she could stick to a ceiling fan if she wanted. Not even the little droplets of water on her moccasins bothered the tape as she pressed it on. Once sticky-taped up and geared appropriately, Tohru set to work.
Little by little, she spider-climbed her way up the cooker until she reached the top of her destination and descended into a gray fissure. The rice cooker usually stayed open after the first ‘cleaning,’ but she supposed she couldn’t complain about that—not since it left her easy access in and out. They may have been a bit sloppy, but their sloppiness was a great benefit to her. So, with only a tiny cry of exertion, she dropped the rest of the way into the cooking bubble. Each grain of rice—the size of her shoes—fell into the hem of her skirt as she scooped them up. There were only about five or six left, but for someone like her, that was plenty.
“Thank you for the food,” she whispered.
Tohru had started piling them into her knapsack when she felt vibrations in the hall meander their way into the kitchen. Tohru froze. It was advantage and disadvantage to feel humans before they entered a room; she could hide, but only if she remembered to unlock her knees first. She ducked under the lip of the bowl, watching as a shock of orange hair bounced through the entryway.
Despite coming to understand these folks she lived with, despite seeing them in their private moments in their rooms, a trill of fear still snaked from her chest into her throat to see those red eyes skip past her. Did he notice her? Were her ribbons sticking up? She fought not to smooth them down.
Kyo stood there at the crest of the kitchen, scratching his head and glaring at some unidentified location beyond Tohru. He blew out an exasperated-sounding sigh. “I don’t feel like being bothered with that thing again tonight. I’ll make sure to clean it tomorrow. I’m tired.”
His thundering footsteps faded out of the kitchen and up the stairs, allowing Tohru to slowly emerge from the rice cooker. When things settled, she let out her own little sigh.
Small things like that kept her on her toes. Yuki and Kyo would sometimes pick a room, would enter, and then leave, leaving Tohru scrambling for a place they would not see her. Each time she swore they did, they didn’t. But maybe these little scares were good things; she still didn’t really know Yuki, Kyo, and Shigure too well. They could have been the nicest people in the world—to other humans. She wasn’t human. Maybe she wouldn’t warrant the same special kindness.
Tohru shuddered, trying to dispel the thoughts from her mind. It was all right; they couldn’t have been so bad, and it had been her decision to hitch a ride and live with them. There was no room for regret now.
She wished he wouldn’t talk to himself, though… It made her want to reply.
She exited the rice cooker the same way she entered, hurrying across the counter to the familiar utility drawer just underneath. The drawer was slightly ajar, giving her the perfect slit to stick the pencil she carried around through her bag strap. Writing with it was good, but it was an even better prier. Widening the gap, she lowered her grappling hook until she was able to hook it through one of the holes in the fishing wire spool.
The spool itself had been pretty heavy to tug out at first, but she’d gotten better at using her arms now. Each day felt like a new iota of muscle. So, she succeeded in tugging out the spool, a spool that was the same height as her, in just a minute’s time. A new record.
She loved how durable and invisible the thread was. There hadn’t been a time where it had broken on her mid climb. Plus, it was much sturdier for pulling things down without snapping in twain. She wrapped it in a tight bundle against her hip, right under her button, and smiled at her handiwork. Her mother would have been proud, and quite possibly terrified too. She always fretted whenever Tohru swung around their home, even if she had to encourage it. It was part of being a borrower, she’d told her.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” she said softly, patting the button on her hip. “I’m fine.” And, returning everything as it once was, Tohru scurried back into the wall she called a ‘home,’ completely missing the sigh from around the kitchen arch.
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She had finally vanished. Kyo let out his held breath.
It was weird to feel like a stranger in the house. Well, more of a stranger, anyway. Kyo wasn’t living here by his own terms. If it were up to him, he would have stayed in Kazuma’s dojo, training until he was spitting out teeth. Anywhere but with that damned rat. The first night at Shigure’s, Kyo hadn’t even wanted to eat at the same time. No, it wasn’t about being able—he couldn’t do it. Looking at Yuki’s face just made everything in Kyo bristle; the judgment, the scoffs, the cool and bitter indifference, like when they were younger.
But here he was acting like a stranger again… The tiny-sized girl in their house seemed far more at home than he was.
Peeking around the corner of the kitchen, Kyo watched as the tiny girl—and God was she a tiny little thing—worked around objects like it was nothing. And the way she used her little string (grappling hook?) made her appear as though she were dancing through the air. How much strength did it take to pull herself up every day? It made a slight smile cross his lips. There were small pleasures he took in Shigure’s house, freely. He was glad to see she was feeling better. Though—Kyo laughed—she could really stand to watch over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t…
“You’re still standing there? What are you, a creepy stalker?”
Kyo’s tight grip didn’t loosen, even as he spun around to face Yuki, whose arms were crossed. He was raising his brows at him. Kyo was lucky he wasn’t a cat for real. Otherwise, his fur would have been through the roof right now. He did hiss like one, however. “Do you really have to sneak around like that?”
Yuki had the nerve to smirk before he glanced over Kyo’s head, expression softening. “Did she get what she needed?”
Kyo felt the flush on his neck cool. His furrowed brows smoothed as well. “Yeah.” Pushing himself off the wall, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed up the steps. “Seems like she got the rice just fine, so you don’t have to breathe down my neck,” he said. “I got homework to do.”
He’d only made it up two stairs when Yuki grabbed his arm, locking him there. “You know, we really could make it easier on all of us if we—”
“We’re not deciding that for her.” Kyo snatched his arm out of Yuki’s grasp, meeting his frown with his own. “I told you that isn’t our call to make—it’s hers, whenever that is.”
Yuki huffed. “I’m worried about her, Kyo,” he said, as though he was the only one who was. The tone made Kyo want to smack something. “When’s the next time we won’t see her again? Another week? Two? When we don’t know whether she’s dead in there because she’s starving herself sick, or if it’s because she doesn’t feel like coming out? Or if she’s scared? What would you do then?” Yuki’s hands fisted at his sides. “Kyo, that first week—we didn’t even see her once.”
Kyo knew that already. He knew how painful it had been to be wondering where she was—knew how painful it had been to have gone into that house twice (three times, even) hoping that she wasn’t still in the walls there. That, somehow, she’d decided to hitch a ride in his bag when she hadn’t even known either of them, much less known them enough to entrust her life to them. It had been such a relief when Kyo had caught her silhouette one night in his room, climbing down her ropes.
Kyo pulled himself out of his thoughts and out of the hall, heading upstairs again. “When she’s ready,” he said, his voice low, “she’ll let us know.”
At least, that was the proper response he was supposed to give. Who was he kidding, though? He wished he could just tell her she’d be accepted the house without an issue. No need to scavenge, hide, or put herself in harm’s way anymore. But this wasn’t even his home.
Still, he’d never been sure if this behavior of hers was normal. She seemed confident and practiced, but wasn’t she supposed to have been Kyoko’s daughter? Would she have let Tohru run around on her own like that, flying from wall to rooftop on just a fishing line? She struck him as way more overprotective than that.
Kyo grimaced and ran a hand over his face. Every time the reality slugged him, it hit hard and left him breathless. He wouldn’t have said he was very close to Kyoko, but he had known her well enough. Back when she was the Crimson Butterfly—back when she was a friend of Kazuma’s. Over the summers when Kyo and Kazuma went into the city, Kazuma introduced him to the fiery woman. Kyo liked her headstrong tendencies, which hid a wise kindness beneath that wild exterior. Their meetings were infrequent and few but enough to leave a lasting impression.
In one of those meetings, she had entrusted him with her greatest secret. Her daughter. Her very tiny, not-human daughter. Tohru had been sleeping at the time, fighting off some cold or infection. He’d thought she was a doll or some tiny robot until he touched her arm and it was warm. It had nearly scared the crap out of him too. It had also surprised him to hear they were family—mother and daughter, of all things.
“She’s so small. How can she be your daughter?” he’d asked with all the filter of a seven-year-old brat.
Instead of taking offense, Kyoko had laughed and ruffled his hair. She kept her other hand close to her chest, though, fingers open just enough to still give him a glimpse of the slumbering treasure. “Family doesn’t always have to look the same for everyone,” Kyoko explained in that gentle, hushed way of hers. “Take you and Kazuma, for instance. Tohru’s my daughter no matter what.”
Her eyes went from Kyo to watch her hand, a smile on her face. “She doesn’t know just how much she’s saved my life. She gives me a home to come back to. If anything ever happened to me, I’d want you to at least know about her.”
That had been why he’d gone and tried to find the girl—the girl who knew nothing about him, the girl who he hoped hadn’t been caught up in the car wreckage too, the girl whose name was ‘Tohru Honda.’ He’d never asked Kyoko back then if she took Tohru with her everywhere, especially when she was a kid. Yet fortune had cast favorably on him, and Yuki, who’d been insistent on tagging along. Apparently, they had both been after the same thing, though Kyo still wasn’t sure how Yuki had heard about her.
Nonetheless, he’d gone three days in a row to that house until, on the night of his third return, he noticed tiny brown hair scurry out of his bag.
She doesn’t know anything about us, Yuki had said. “We should try not to scare her off. Let her choose what she wants to do,” he said.
Funny, since now he was saying the exact opposite. Was it impatience getting to him finally? That would have been a first.
Kyo sighed as he collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the plaster walls with a half-lidded gaze. He didn’t even know the first thing about her—not what she was, what she liked, or even what she sounded like. All he knew was her name, and they were supposed to pretend like she wasn’t there. Groaning, Kyo feverishly ran his hands through and over his head. “Damn it…”
When he glanced over to his writing desk, the blue sticky note stuck to the corner of his bookshelf winked at him. “Do your best!” the note read. On it was some strange, misshapen ball. It looked like a rice ball that had been given arms and legs and a little happy face. He’d been noticing little notes like these popping up more and more on his textbook pages, especially when he left them open.
“You’re supposed to be hiding,” he whispered, unable to stifle his smile. “Dummy.”
Friday night…
Days since accident: 19
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Friday nights were good nights, though every night was a good night when she was well fed and had a roof over her head. But these nights were especially important. Kyo, Yuki, and Shigure usually welcomed the week’s end, meaning they slept earlier in the night and stayed asleep later in the morning.
So, Tohru got a chance to do one of her favorite ways of giving back. Leaving little notes. She liked to call it ‘Kind Day.’
The idea had come to her as a result of seeing one of Yuki’s books, filled from front to back with index tabs. The pieces of paper stuck to the pages were all sorts of colors and made his schoolwork look like a captured rainbow. Most of the notes were just about whatever was on the pages. Originally, she’d only wanted a couple of blank tabs for her own list-keeping purposes. Mom had always been a little forgetful, so Tohru took it upon herself to make grocery lists for her. Stores were too loud, and crowded, for her to go with her herself. She guessed she’d never been able to kick the list-making habit ever since.
After coming across the stack and taking it back to her setup, Tohru hadn’t been sure what to do with her surplus of sticky tabs. They were more like a banner, so she realistically couldn’t see herself using any more than a few. That was when inspiration hit. Why not leave encouraging messages for the Sohmas? Her mom had done it for her, knowing she would still go climbing around their home. If she left them somewhere like their books, maybe they would just mistake the notes as something from a classmate. It was perfect.
Friday was perfect.
She started with Kyo’s room, as he was the easiest of the three whose sleeping patterns she knew by sound alone now. Maybe that had something to do with the fact his room wasn’t far from her own. It was a straight shot from his desk into the wall, where it was nestled between an empty room and the bathroom. Outside walls were always the coldest ones, and it felt strange to occupy their guest room by herself.
Either way, all she needed to do was move wallpaper, reach one of the books on his desk, and slap her note on a random page. Kyo’s books were usually light enough to pry open.
She was careful about remaining noiseless, though Kyo usually seemed too dead to the world to notice. He slept on his side, facing the wall opposite from her.
The next room was Shigure’s, a little out of the way considering it was back downstairs, but it was worse leaving his room for last. Everything was a mess in there; scattered paper and pages, books haphazardly placed on the floor. She was lucky she didn’t get lost, but worst of it all was that his sleeping patterns were all sorts of weird. Sometimes, he was asleep at six p.m or he was up at four in the morning. Midnight was usually a good time, since sometimes he’d be in the kitchen finding a snack to eat, whatever was left over from ordering out. She knew that outside of Kyo, they didn’t cook very much. That was okay, though. She didn’t either.
Whenever she walked through the house at night, Tohru tried her best not to rush. Wind outside caused things to creak, which wasn’t uncommon. The worst was how still things felt. It was an odd sensation that washed over her whenever she walked on ground level—like the bogeyman could have caught up to her at any moment. It made goosebumps dot her flesh.
Finally, on the return trip back upstairs, she passed through Yuki’s room. The access point to get there was from the floor, so she popped in between the doors and shuffled her way inside. A dim glow filtered through Yuki’s room, but it was empty otherwise. Weird—maybe he’d gone to the bathroom. Regardless, this was a window of opportunity.
With her sticky-taped shoes, Tohru climbed foot by foot up the table leg to reach the top of the desk. The pose-able desk lamp lit up his textbook. One side of the page already had one of her sticky notes there to greet her—a “You’re doing great!” one—and she gave a watery giggle. She was glad none of them seemed to have thrown them out. But as it stood, she needed to pick a new page that wasn’t 153 this time. Tohru clenched her fists. She wouldn’t disappoint.
Flipping through carefully, Tohru tried not to become too distracted by the pictures, but she couldn’t fight it much. The flowers were so beautiful on the page. Yuki seemed to have a deep passion for gardening, or at least nature. She’d never seen any sort of garden around the house, though. Maybe he only did it at school. Wherever it was, Tohru wished she could bear witness to the fruits of his labor. She bet his garden would have been great. For good measure, she wrote a note that said “may you bloom in the future” and pasted it onto the page.
Vibrations came up to the door. Tohru gasped, her heartbeat trumpeting in her ears. It took seeing just the scant glimpse of silver hair to spring her to action, ducking for the shelving unit of books. She caught him carrying in a bag of popcorn right before she covered herself in one of the stray sheets of paper on his desk. His shadow moved across the paper like a train across the street, flickering across the window shades.
I need to stop shivering. Stop!
This fear—it was something instinctual. Something deeply rooted in her she couldn’t shake. It should have been his footsteps causing her quivering, but instead it was all the nerve she had left inside running out of her. All she could do was hold her breath as the heavy sound of a body connecting to a chair rumbled around her. His sigh made her jump.
Sometimes she thought about what it would have meant for her if she was found—all the time, really. No matter she looked at it, she simply didn’t offer a lot back to warrant her thievish behavior. Would they kick her out? Be angry with her? She didn’t want to make them upset. That was why she tried to take only the littlest amounts, the things she was absolutely sure they could part with. They seemed so kind and she was just taking advantage of them like this.
And yet, she didn’t want to go anywhere else—somewhere that might not have been as safe. She’d already left a note to her grandfather before she’d left home. Living with the Sohmas would have been less of a burden on her grandfather and his family, if she had chosen to live with him instead. Plus, she wasn’t sure if the queasiness of one of his family members being a botanist would ever settle.
Tohru hadn’t noticed Yuki was eating already until the crunch and rustling came to an abrupt end. Tohru tensed, images of being shoved outside flashing through her mind. Oh, no. No, no no no—
Instead, Yuki laughed. It was that airy breath of amusement that she caught in his own private space, a side she probably wasn’t supposed to see and should have apologized for witnessing. Yet he didn’t reach out for her, even as his arm passed by her paper hideaway. She observed as his shadow rose and moved away until it no longer fell on her space.
“I can’t believe I forgot something to drink,” he said aloud.
Tohru sighed once he departed, sagging down and releasing her hold on the paper. Her limbs trembled a bit still, but just like his footsteps, they—too—were slowly fading. That had been close. She hadn’t prepared what sort of explanation she would have given for being there, much less what she was doing. She barely even knew what she was. Memories from before Kyoko became her mom were few and far between. She knew she had birth parents and that they were called borrowers. That was all she knew.
“Your parents became very sick,” Kyoko had explained when Tohru turned seven. “So they had to break their rule so they could see you safe and cared for.”
“What rule is that?” Tohru had asked.
“Never be seen.”
The rule had never mattered before with Mom, but it absolutely held weight now. Her birth parents must have had the same crushing feeling of guilt at having to reveal themselves. It felt awful taking from others, even if she knew it was just a means to survive. The world was far too big for someone only four inches tall.
Tohru’s fingers brushed the button on her hip, squeezing it. “I’m okay, Mom,” she whispered to the empty air. “I’m okay.”
Quickly, Tohru finished collecting her things, made sure her note was in place, turned Yuki’s book back to its 153-page mark, and hurried down the same way she’d come. Despite the scare, Fridays were still good days.
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Yuki waited about another several minutes before entering his room again. This time, as he walked over to his desk, nothing was around. Though seeing the loose leaf paper by his shelf sent him into another giggle fit. He didn't need to hold this one back at her expense either. She tried, she really did, but someone was going to have to let her know that paper was too—well—paper thin to hide the shadowed outline of her body. She was a shadow puppet, moving in time with his own gestures.
Eventually, Yuki's amusement subsided and a more thoughtful, if not pained, frown overcame him. One thing was clear, however; he was wrong to think she was ready for anything else. At the end of the day, she was still terrified of him—of them.
Days since the accident: 24.
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The television downstairs was singing a commercial jingle, fun and bouncy completely foreign to Tohru. She knew some television shows in her times of watching TV with Mom, but whatever was playing downstairs was something she hadn’t the faintest idea of. Shigure was the only one who was home today.
On the days the boys watched television without ribbing each other, she would peer out from the panel for her own personal viewing of the show. Very rarely, they would switch the channel to Mogeta. That show was her favorite, though they didn’t seem to share the same interest.
“This show doesn’t make any sense,” Kyo would say whenever the antagonist appeared on screen and proclaimed how much he planned to make the hero suffer because of his own personal grievances in his life. “What idiot tells someone what they’re gonna do word-for-word? Haven’t they ever heard of subtlety?”
“But it’s so sad when you hear it!” Tohru would whisper in the comfort of her own concealment. “I feel so bad for him.”
“It’s a show meant for kids, Kyo.” Yuki would sigh. “It’s not supposed to be that deep. And it’s popular, so obviously some people like it.”
Unfortunately, there was never anyone around to defend Mogeta—no one that they knew was around, anyway. And it wasn’t the first time Tohru found herself sliding into conversations that she knew would make no difference whether she was there or not. It wasn’t like they would hear her. Watching them eat from atop her place on the cupboards sometimes brought her more sadness than it did joy. Otherwise, she stayed in the inner walls of the house, making a ‘placemat’ for herself and the button that she took off her hip to sit next to her.
She hadn’t brought many things over in her transfer from her home to this house. Even if she had wanted to, it would have made getting into Kyo’s bag far more of a hassle and way easier for him to notice her. With her, she’d brought her handy grappling hook, Mom’s coat button, her cross-body bag that she’d gotten as a twelfth birthday gift from Grandpa, her cape, and one extra pair of clothes.
The one nice thing about being small was that she hardly grew, so clothes Mom ordered online could last Tohru a lifetime. She had a pair of bear-pattered, pink pajamas, a set of flannels that could have kept even a doll in the snow from feeling frozen over. Otherwise, she was outfitted in her standard sundress and white leggings that stopped at her thighs. She oscillated between the two on wash days, bent over the bathroom sink counter when the other three went on their family house visits.
Her cape didn’t get dirty very much. Apparently, it had been a leftover from her birth parents: a failsafe in case she was falling from somewhere high. She kept it on her shoulders during her more perilous escapades, but she trusted the strength of her hook’s thread. Still, it didn’t hurt to be cautious sometimes.
Tohru smoothed her hands over her bed; it was really a bird’s nest more than anything, filled with any sort of material she’d managed to scrounge up in her second week of living in the Sohma’s. The felt and old cloths she’d cut from the linen closest were comfortable. She wished she’d done that the first day she’d come, but she hadn’t thought about much of anything else when she’d arrived. All of her motions had felt like they were on autopilot then. She hardly remembered how she’d found a place to sleep or find food. She swore she’d gone without eating for two days, locked in tight to her hovel.
Just like now.
There was a distant chuckle that perked Tohru’s ears. It sounded like Shigure. He must have returned to watching the TV. Tohru drew her knees up to her chest, pressing the lower half of her face into them, and shut her eyes. She was going to have to go out sometime. Her extra rations were running low. She knew she had to.
“This is so difficult,” she said quietly. Even in its softness, the inner walls seemed to echo and bounce her voice back to her. At first, she used to worry about the creatures dwelling within finding her through sound or smell alone. Luckily, though, it seemed like the Sohmas didn’t have any rodent problems. Tohru squeezed her eyes a little tighter. “I’m supposed to be not making you worry, Grandfather. I’m sorry.”
Sometimes she wondered whether he’d found the note she’d left, the day before she’d solidified her decision. She certainly hoped he had. Slipping into the bag of two boys she’d never met had been terrifying. Kyoko had mentioned a Sohma—a ‘Kazuma’—once before, but Tohru hadn’t had much to go on other than that he was nice and a fine friend to her mom. Though, going with two strangers wasn’t any more terrifying than thinking about her presence stressing out her old Grandfather, or about him not seeing the note and worrying about her. Maybe she should have waited another day until she could see him—face to face.
And yet, how did she know whether the Sohma boys would return or not? It had been two of them at first. When only one had returned the next day, she had panicked. It felt like she had to make the choice. Otherwise, it would have slipped away from her. She didn’t want that.
But what was better? Living in a place where the other knew of your existence but you were a constant strain on their daily life? Or bearing the burden of being surrounded by warmth you weren’t sure you could have anymore? Hearing them laugh and talk and knowing that you wouldn’t have been a part of it?
Tohru leaned back from her tucked knees, pressing her hands over her eyes. She felt the corners of her mouth lift a little. Good; she could still smile. Now it was time to go borrowing.
Peeling back the wallpaper, she was faced with Kyo’s simple room arrangement as she peered out. He wasn’t there today, gone off to visit another cousin of his to train, if Tohru remembered correctly. They sure had a lot of cousins, she thought, but it was nice of them to all spend time together. They seemed close.
He wouldn’t be back until around dinnertime, probably. Yuki was also meeting student council members for some outside-of-school recreation, and with Shigure currently preoccupied, she had more than enough time to check off her shopping list.
She covered up the entry hole, spun on her heels, and found herself stopped in place. A blue piece of paper was pasted loosely to the floor. It looked like it could have been easily peeled off. The words were facing toward her, her own large handwriting legible even at her distance.
“Keep moving forward!” it said.
Somehow it must have fallen off of one of Kyo’s books during all his shifting around. Tohru wiped her eyes against her arm, took in a deep breath, smiled, and nodded. “Right,” she whispered before taking her first step.
Sunday night…
Days since the accident: 26.
...
~
...
Kyo entered his room with a towel over his head, hair dripping wet and peskier water droplets clinging to the nape of his neck. He already had his change of clothes on when he returned. Before, he might have walked out in only shorts and his towel around his shoulders. Yet to do so now felt far too embarrassing for a number of very good reasons.
Shigure, meanwhile, kept prancing around without a care in the world. He’d even had the nerve to insinuate, out loud, that there were mice running around in the house. The look both Kyo and Yuki had speared him with wasn’t damaging enough to stop his chuckling, unfortunately. There were times Kyo simply could not—and would not—believe they were related. That was usually all of the time.
He’d given some thought to what Yuki had mentioned before. As part of her routine, Tohru used the weekend to sort around their things, anything she could catch that looked awry. He wasn’t sure why she did it—that or the notes she left around the house in somewhat inconspicuous places. Maybe the scavenging wasn’t enough for her and she needed something else to do. Whatever the case, she definitely didn’t have to do those things, especially when she didn’t have a clue they had already known about her from the very start.
And then Yuki had let slip his mishap; she’d gone missing for a week ever since. Kyo had wanted to pummel the rat for it being his fault, but now he hated agreeing with him. Not knowing whether she was all right or not because of the ‘secrets’ made his chest ache. A week was too long without seeing even a hint of her. The most he could do was give her space, stay out of his room a little longer, and hope that would be enough.
Kyo was about to sit on his bed when he heard what sounded like the faintest sniff. Freezing, he peered toward the wall his desk was pushed against, expecting her to be standing right there but finding it empty instead. Kyo frowned, shuffling to lean against the wall. He listened with eyes closed, and everything came much clearer.
“…know I should, Mom, but sometimes I just can’t bring myself to.”
Kyo sucked in a breath. Her voice was little more than a murmur. Honestly, he had to strain to hear her, but this was what she sounded like? He hadn’t anticipated her sounding so…distraught. Of course she’s distraught, you idiot, he chastised only moments after. It must have been hell stuck in the dark for so long—alone.
There was more whispering, this time too low for him to decipher. Kyo truly hoped Yuki hadn’t terrified her into hiding long-term. He pulled away from the wall, though not before hearing the faint “I miss you” on the other side. Kyo paused, venturing a glance to the paneling and then the door. His feet decided for him.
The noise of his chair must have been too loud, because all sound stopped after that. However, there was one: a clatter of plastic hitting wood. It was tiny, inconsequential, but Kyo bent down to analyze it anyway. He thought he heard a faintly muted gasp too, somewhere above his head. When he glanced up, though, he saw brown hair disappear for a split second around a crack in the wall’s seams.
Scooting back from his desk, he found the source of the disturbance, holding the button up to the fluorescent lights. It wasn’t plain like he was expecting; yellow paint curled around its shiny surface like tendrils of fire. Atop some of the tangled lines, a splotch of red—no, crimson—made the button more vocal in its design. He was plenty certain he never owned anything like this on any of his own clothes, so Tohru couldn’t have possibly gotten it from him.
He glanced in her direction. The wallpaper had been set back entirely correctly, though he did see a vague shape of a shoulder. Trembling.
“I have no idea whether she’s afraid of us or not,” Yuki’s voice echoed in his ears.
Kyo frowned and bit the inside of his cheek. If she wasn’t ready yet, then maybe he could find a different way to tell her it was okay—that they meant no harm. He leaned back in his chair, holding the button up to the light so that its shiny black surface flickered.
“This reminds me a lot of her.” He spoke tentatively but soft enough to avoid suspicion. It was weird, but what right did he have to complain? She’d probably been doing that since she’d gotten here. He placed the button on the edge of his desk, underneath the peeling paper. “It’s pretty badass. Definitely something she would have liked. And it makes me feel a little less guilty,” he muttered, “about not being there when she died and having nothing to show for it.”
After the words left Kyo’s mouth, he startled. In fact, he’d almost been too preoccupied with Tohru to think about how much it all sucked. A fatal car crash—what a way to go. It had been so sudden and quick, there one day and gone the next. How long had it even been since he’d visited her? Years? If he hadn’t remembered that conversation just from Kazuma mentioning her passing—if he hadn’t rushed over to Kyoko’s home—he might not have known. And how would Tohru have known? There must have been someone who could have told her, but what if she would have been waiting for days for someone who wouldn’t return?
If she had anyone else, she wouldn’t have come with you, idiot, he told himself.
The quiet had resettled, but it was strangely companionable. All he could hear was his own breathing. But under the wallpaper, in that secret place of hers, Kyo swore he saw her shoulder stop shaking. He pressed his fingers gingerly to the wall before pulling away, rummaging around on his desk until he found his CD.
Whenever he had trouble focusing—or sleeping—he always let the tracks play on repeat. It was filled with soft ambience, the sound of cicadas buzzing, and a bit of acoustics. Maybe, it’d help do something for her too. Her button was always going to be there, waiting for her. He definitely wasn’t going to take it.
Tuesday morning…
Days since the accident: 29
...
~
...
Tohru took a deep, calming breath, stopping herself from pacing a third time across the bolt beams. In one hand, she held the handle of her grappling hook, while her other ran across the surface of her button.
She had since retrieved it from Kyo’s desk, only under the notion that he had forgotten about it. She’d almost hesitated to take it back too, his speech from a few days back ringing in her ears. So she wasn’t crazy for thinking this button was precious. Kyo thought the same. Somehow, that had been more comforting than knowing she’d been living in the Sohmas’ house for nearly a month and she’d been doing okay. There were some good days, and some (unfortunate) bad days, but still—she was okay.
Lowering onto her fortress of handkerchiefs, old rags, and felt, Tohru drew the button from her hip and stared up at it overhead. She felt a little frown work its way on her mouth. “Should I do it, Mom?” she asked.
The brush of discover had left Tohru with a different bundle of nerves than when she had almost been seen by Yuki. She’d been wondering a lot more lately; what would it have been like to live beyond her means? True, she traveled through their house daily. There was nothing new that would have surprised her when she had toured it all. And yet, there was absolutely something different in walking around in a home that was hers and one that was not. She had been content to drift and stay in her memories, but now…
She wanted this place to feel like home. Apparently, her mom must have felt the same. Why else would she have dropped her button by accident and Kyo see it without question? Mom must have been encouraging her. What was the worst that could happen?
Tohru shot to her feet again, creeping along the seams until she reached her little exit. The light within the room was fairly slight, the sun just beginning to rise. The sleeping boy beneath the covers was still as snow, his form rising and shifting under the thick duvet. He always slept on his stomach with one foot sticking out from under the blankets. It was cute. It had to be around five in the morning, though. She had at least another hour and a half to make a choice.
Steeling herself, Tohru disappeared back into the inner labyrinth of the Sohma house, traversing the poles, pulleys, beams, and screws, until she reached her usual point of entry in the kitchen—the cabinets. She crept out past the paneling and shimmied across the countertop, making it a point to avoid the gigantic kitchen utensils and cookware this time. Take away the comfort of the fluorescent, cast the room in the cold silence, and shadows of the objects felt hungry. Too close and Tohru felt as though she’d be swallowed. Home had been the same way when Tohru had heard the news.
Her destination wasn’t the fruit basket, where she normally would have pocketed away a few pieces of nectarine and plum before Yuki or Kyo came down to lay them to waste. She always skimmed a little from the bottom, or—if she was in a hurry—a little from the side. This time, she bypassed the basket altogether and stared at the chasm between her and the dining room table. Stared and stared until she felt her eyes dry. Then, she clutched her button, nodded, and stuck to the walls as she circled the room.
The dining table was nestled between a partition that separated it from the living room. And because the table was tucked somewhat into the corner, Tohru could just hop onto the chair to reach the table, which she did. Dragging herself onto the wood surface, Tohru took a deep breath and sat down, placing her folded hands into her lap. She peered at the clock on the furthest corner of the room. 5:33a.m.
The seconds may have ticked by, but the minutes crawled on, feeling more and more like she had spent hours on that table. She tried to busy her hands by braiding some of the loose threads on her knapsack, but she could only twist and retwist them so much before it all started to look the same, no matter how she twirled them.
She had just started pondering whether to sew when she heard shuffling upstairs. Then came the sound of running water. Tohru’s heart beat with each residual droplet that fell from the faucet. There was no real way of knowing who it might have been first—well, it couldn’t have been Shigure, she reasoned. She would have heard him, since they were both on ground level. The time the Sohmas woke may have been like clockwork, but which of them was like drawing the lotto. She just had to assure herself it didn’t matter who.
Shuffling down the stairs and turning into the entry was a half-zombie. Tohru had to smile at that; the way Yuki slouched and slugged around was such a contrast from his normal, more awake demeanor. A couple times he’d even walked into his wall while trying to use the bathroom. There had been only one instance Tohru had needed to intervene and cause a bit of a clatter. Back then, he had looked like he was about to tumble down the steps, and she hadn’t been able to think of any other alarm than knocking over a couple candle pieces. Luckily, they had been too thick to break—and even luckier when Yuki had woken up seconds before risking a concussion, and hadn’t seen her.
Weirdly enough, though, Yuki always seemed to snap awake when Kyo came downstairs. Maybe seeing Kyo energized him or something.
Tohru held her breath as he fully entered the room, his steps—though more like sliding—sending faint tremors through the table as he passed by and opened the fridge. Tohru bit her lips together and fidgeted. If it had been Mom, they would have said their greetings by now. She would have been asking Tohru what she wanted for breakfast.
Before Tohru could rescind her decision, Yuki finished pouring his glass of orange juice and spun around, eyes lazily scanning over the table—scanning her. It took them a second of flickering before the sleepy haze vanished, causing his eyes to widen. Tohru tried to summon bravery from somewhere deep within her, her grin feeling a bit too large for her mouth to support.
“G-Good…” She took a steadying breath. “Good morning!”
She wondered if her voice was too soft; she hadn’t needed to elevate in some time. Eventually, Yuki’s features smoothed over and he offered a smile back. “Hello?” He seemed confused, and it dawned on Tohru why. Picking morning time may not have been the best after all.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you,” she hurried to say, meekly. “You’re not dreaming! You must want to eat or get back to sleep or—you look tired—”
“No,” he cut her rambling with a gentle and placid tone, “no, it’s fine. I’m awake now. Way more awake, actually.”
They stared at each other for another beat, neither willing to move nor avert their gaze. Tohru’s eyebrows upturned as she squeezed her hands together again. Beyond the initial moment, his surprise seemed to have worn off fairly rapidly. The last time she’d been introduced to a human had been Grandfather, which actually wasn’t Mom’s dad but her late husband’s, Katsuya. Tohru had never personally met the man, but she liked to listen to her mom recall his existence. His side of the family didn’t seem very similar to the stories, and they’d had quite a few more interrogatory questions for Tohru and what she was.
“Yuki! Are you awake already? Is Kyo? Who’re you talking—oh!”
Tohru hadn’t broken her stare once, so she jumped when Shigure had apparently strolled in from his bedroom. Donned in his comfortable robes, he had his eyebrows raised as he peered directly at her. Having two humans’ attention might have been more alarming had it not been for the smirk that eased on Shigure’s face. It helped he finally diverted his gaze to Yuki too.
“Don’t look now, Yuki, but I think all our mice problems might have been a tiny little mouse girl instead.”
Ah, Tohru thought with some embarrassment; that was more the kind of reaction she predicted.
Yuki rolled his eyes, the same spell breaking on him as well. He took slow, almost cautious, steps over to the table. When he glanced at her quickly before sitting down, it was like he was requesting her permission to do so. Tohru wasn’t sure what to think of that, but the gesture touched her nonetheless.
“There aren’t any mice, actually,” Tohru addressed Shigure. “I should know—I would have seen them by now! I actually check every night, just to…just to be safe…”
She started hitching on her words as Shigure drew closer but calmed when he, too, went for the fridge instead. “Oh?” he asked with a laugh. “Is that so?”
On second thought, maybe she was the one dreaming. The befuddlement must have shown in her expression, because Yuki leaned into her view. His brows were knitted together. “Is something wrong?”
“No! Well, I-I mean—” Tohru waved her hands. “Nothing is wrong? I thought something would go wrong, but this feels… You’re not weirded out to see me? You don’t have questions?”
“I do,” Shigure said, and Tohru braced herself. “But I probably already know the answer to that one. You must be starving! You’re such an itty thing. Kyo likely saved some of the takeout we had from yesterday morning—ah! Here it is.”
Tohru blinked, sufficiently thrown.
Yuki rescued her from her own stalled brain. “If you want me to be perfectly honest, we’ve known about you since you arrived,” he explained and shrugged. “No point in keeping that a secret now. It was just hard finding the right time.”
Warmth crept into Tohru’s face as she pinned her eyes to her lap. Was she really that out of practice?
“Don’t get me wrong—I wasn’t always sure you were there,” Yuki added hurriedly. He dropped down with his chin on his hands, as best to eyelevel as he could manage with her. “What changed your mind?”
“You all seemed like good people,” she answered, her tone soft. “Were you friends with my mom?”
A far off look glazed over Yuki’s eyes. “Kind of. I’d only met her once. Kyo’s the one who actually knew her a little better than I did. He insisted we should go to Ms. Honda’s place after…everything. I told him you probably had other family who would take care of you. Guess you’d rather stay with us weirdoes, huh?”
“Oh my gosh—you’re not weird at all! I’m the one who’s—” When she heard his laugh and saw the teasing half grin, Tohru tried to laugh too. “I don’t think Mom would have minded this at all.”
She couldn’t help but feel a little silly now that she knew; she would have spared herself a lot more heartbeats if only she’d known, but how could she have? Conversations were easy to keep track of in the house, but she had to sleep too. Plus, they had school. There were probably many things she didn’t hear and never would because of that. The meaning of ‘private’ seemed to skew when the most she heard was within their rooms as opposed to however they behaved in public. Maybe this was more authentic in terms of making friends.
Friends…
The whine of a teakettle pulled her gaze away from Yuki to Shigure, who carefully transferred hot kettle to tabletop. She scooted out of the way, leaving more space so he didn’t have to worry about burning her. He took his seat on the other side of Yuki instead of at the other head of the table, but now that she realized the seats were empty, she couldn’t help but wonder if Kyo had overslept. Wasn’t it a school day?
Porcelain and china clinked together, and she glanced down to see Shigure had pushed a teacup—filled to the brim—in front of her. Fishing around in her satchel, Tohru wielded a doll’s cup from home and scooped out her own fill from the larger set. She gave him a grateful smile.
“Huh,” Shigure remarked, sipping from his mug. “Well that’s resourceful. So, do I get to know the pleasure of who this tiny mouse girl living in my home is?”
“Oh—yes, of course!” Tohru shot to her feet, almost splashing her tea all over herself, and bowed. “My name is Tohru Honda.” She clenched her fingers against her cup, eyes darting from Yuki to Shigure and back. “I-Is it all right for me to continue living here? I can do anything that you’d need me to—just say the word! I’m a lot stronger than I look!” Which wasn’t a lie; running, climbing, jumping—they kept her endurance and upper body strength in tip-top shape.
Shigure glanced at Yuki, beaming. “Do you think she’d pass the ‘cute, emotional support companion’ test?”
“What?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Yuki bit back, sighing and shaking his head. Soon, though, he smiled at Tohru. “No one’s planning to kick you out, Miss Honda. In fact, I’m relieved,” he added.
He looked over his shoulder at the clock and grimaced. When he stood, Tohru fought the urge to jump back. She wasn’t used to such big bodies moving up close anymore. She must have failed to hide it, because he looked down at her apologetically.
“I have a school council meeting that I need to be there early for. I completely forgot.” He pushed in his chair. “Shigure, don’t scare her off by the time I get back,” he warned. “And tell Kyo not to make a fool of himself in front of her, though I know that’s bound to be difficult for him.”
Shigure half saluted him. “Will do. I have to meet Hatori at lunch anyway, so she won’t be bothered by me here.”
Tohru deflated for a split second before perking up again. “It’s no bother—really! I’ve already been living here for a little while, so I’m used to everyone…”
“That’s very dear of you to say,” Shigure said, sniffling all of a sudden. "Yuki, I never realized how mean you are until I’ve finally had someone nice in my life for a change. My one ray of sunshine! Oh how the day will be better—”
Yuki huffed. “Quit being dramatic.”
When a single, larger-than-life finger came to pat at her head, Tohru’s stiffening was inevitable. They were just two gentle, short taps, but the physical contact was enough to make her melt on the spot—even pull a whimper from her when Shigure withdrew his hand, though she managed to clamp down on the noise in time. With his hand gone, it left her cold and distant from everything in front of her. Mom had never been shy about touching her, even when at first she fretted over hurting her.
Tohru swallowed and managed to wave Yuki off. “Have a good day at school, Yuki!” she called.
Shigure snickered. Yuki’s cheeks flashed pink for reason before he disappeared to get changed.
“Well, if you need me, Tohru, I’ll be in my room writing,” Shigure told her as he, too, stood with teacup and kettle in hand. “I’m sure we’ll pick up this conversation once Yuki and Kyo come home from school. And I don’t think you need us around to keep you busy.”
“Do you want me to do anything?” she asked, wringing her hands together. “I know I might be small but—”
“Tohru...” Shigure smiled. “You don’t have to do anything but relax. For me, okay?”
She paused, and then nodded, matching his expression. “Okay.”
The kitchen emptied again, though the shuffling of Shigure in his room kept Tohru from feeling totally stifled by loneliness. She settled her hand on her chest; her heart was beginning to quiet after the rush of excitement. It had only been about a month, but talking with Yuki and Shigure felt so easy and natural.
Tohru covered her face with a soft squeal, feeling everything in her burning, when she remembered them already knowing. She hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet. It must have been the tea keeping her from feeling famished. Let’s just go with that!
She’d returned to her previous seat, nibbling at some papaya, when an aggravated groan sliced the quiet. Eyes wide, Tohru watched as the last of the Sohma household entered the fray with a messy head of hair and still looking half asleep himself. Déjà vu. Though unlike Yuki, it took Kyo literal seconds until his eyes focused on her.
A moment passed where they said nothing—did nothing—except watch with wide eyes. Then, Kyo spun around on his heels so fast she swore she felt wind, and Tohru was instinctively reaching out for him. She had so much she needed to say.
“Wait! W-Wait, Kyo, don’t go!”
Thankfully, he listened, slowly turning back. Her hand was still outstretched to him, but she watched a frown wrestle against his features. He took painstaking steps over to the table, like she may have darted off at any second. Tohru stayed put however, no longer sure if for his benefit or her own. She sat her hands in her lap as she watched him grow taller over her. Between Yuki and Kyo, she wasn’t sure which of them was bigger.
“So you’re…fine with this now?” Kyo gestured to her then everything else around them. “You did want to be seen, right?”
She nodded, and he sighed, seeming relieved. “Thank you, Kyo,” she said. And she meant that in so many ways.
“What for? I didn’t really do much. It’s not even my home to begin with.” Every muscle in his body looked tensed when Shigure’s muted humming floated from his writing room. Kyo’s gaze darted to Tohru. “Does he—?”
“Yes, you don’t have to worry! I already talked to Yuki and Shigure just before you woke up.”
When Kyo’s face pinched, Tohru worried she’d said something wrong. Instead, Kyo just growled and moved to the overhead cereal cupboards. “Typical. Didn’t even bother to wake me up for something important. Stupid rat.”
“Maybe he thought you needed the sleep? He did mention he had to be on time for a meeting…” Her eyes tracked every cornflake and gallon of milk he poured into his bowl.
Kyo sneered. “Yeah, no. That’s not him,” he grumbled, sauntering over to the table again, and lifted his brow. “So, you still didn’t answer me before. Why are you thanking me?”
“I wasn’t—” Tohru inhaled sharply. “I wasn’t sure what was going to… When I found out she wasn’t wasn’t coming back, I might have still stayed home.” Her fingers tightened around the edge of her dress. “I was so scared,” she whispered, “and it was your idea to go there, right? To find me? Mom told you about me?”
Kyo’s ears reddened, but he cleared his throat. He’d been hovering by the chair in front of her for a while, like the wood would give him splinters. Finally, he lowered himself into it. “She went on about you a lot one day,” he replied and tilted his head. “Like, nonstop.”
“Oh—”
Suddenly, Kyo’s finger nudged her. He wore a smirk now. “I’m just messing with you, don’t worry. You made her happy. Even I could tell how much she loved you like a daughter.”
Like a daughter…
Though it was never something she’d said aloud, it was nonetheless a panic that ate at Tohru’s confidence sometimes. Kyoko had been the one to insist she call her ‘Mom,’ whenever she felt comfortable, but Tohru never would have forgiven herself if she’d selfishly believed the two of them weren’t just like mother and child. She felt they were mother and child. And it had felt like all hope of that had died those first two nights without Kyoko saying she was home. Did Kyoko actually want her, or was she just an obligation? Had Tohru been keeping her from living somehow? Finding someone new to have a family with? A real daughter?
Was she a good daughter to her?
“Oh. Oh, crap. I didn’t meant to make you—”
Tohru hadn’t even realized she’d begun crying until her vision was lost in a pool. She feverishly wiped her face.
“Sorry,” Kyo mumbled. “I mean, it hasn’t been that long. Man, first time talking to you and I’ve already made you cry. I’m the worst. Do you want me to stop talking about her?”
“No! No, please, it’s… I want to talk about her.” Tohru pushed her hands against her chest, cupping them over her heart. “It hurts, but it’s a good hurt.” She smiled a bit. “I just miss her…”
Kyo nodded, glanced down to his cereal bowl, before extending his spoon out to her. “Bet it’s hard to get cereal nowadays.”
That’s right, Tohru realized and blushed; he had also been watching her bumble around their house. Sitting on her knees, she collected her cornflake peace offering, letting the hem of her dress catch any excess milk droplets. “Mom used to bring home all kinds that she wanted me to try.”
Kyo took another spoonful. “What’s you favorite?”
Tohru hummed, lengthening the sound, as she ate her cereal piece. “I think Lucky Charms.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised.” Again, he nudged her conspiratorially. “Sweet tooths.”
The same feeling when she’d spoken to Yuki and Shigure warmed her anew when talking to Kyo. She didn’t understand how they were able to just accept things—accept her—as though she were another normal person among their family. Not an outsider, not a strange tiny creature; they hadn’t even asked her what she was (which she was grateful for, since she didn’t really understand it herself). They touched, and teased, and touched, and it made her feel whole. Contact from them seemed to come so easily and thoughtlessly that she found herself leaning into Kyo’s finger.
So it came as a surprise to them both when she, thoughtlessly and easily, latched onto him before he could move away.
Kyo stiffened. Mortified and remembering herself, Tohru released his finger with a rushed apology. Comfortable was fine, but maybe she was bit too much.
An awkward silence elongated between them, with Tohru lamenting how stupid she’d been and how she’d just messed up everything. The rush of showing herself this morning had made her forget she was still a stranger at the end of the day, despite what she felt or how they made her feel. At least behind those walls she couldn’t embarrass herself like this.
She turned to get up, to thank him again and go back, but stopped when tentative fingers came around her. They hovered centimeters away from her body then slowly drew nearer until she could feel their heat before their touch. He didn’t lift her off of the table. In fact, her slippers were still firmly planted on the wood. She could have jumped out of his hold at any moment, but the way his hands cradled her made her feel as though she never wanted to leave—secure without the need to keep her feet on the ground. Despite seeing him lift weights and do morning exercises in the yard, Kyo’s hands weren’t at all rough. Even if they had been, she doubted she would have cared.
Tohru peered at him at him curiously, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was locked on to the west wall. With his head turned, though, she could see his red ears. “It’s okay,” Kyo answered finally. “You just, uh—y-you looked like you needed a hand. Or two.”
At a loss for words, Tohru set her own tinier hands atop his finger and brought it close to her forehead, where she pressed it. She hiccupped, especially when she felt a feather-light brush to the skin there.
“Kyo!” Shigure sang from the other room. “I hope you’re not in there making our guest cry!”
Tohru wasn’t sure who jumped first, but either way, she wound up falling back in Kyo’s hands. They twitched and closed in on her a little more. Though he growled, his red cheeks made the sound lose its edge.
“That damned nosy ass…” He tipped her onto her feet, hands framing her and steadying her balance when she wobbled. Kyo pursed his lips. “Though he’s not wrong. I didn’t expect you to be such a crybaby.”
Tohru laughed through her hiccups and he smiled back. Kyo offered her his napkin, which she happily dried her eyes and blew her nose into. “Thank you,” she said again.
When he glanced up at the clock, his expression slackened. “Right. School. I’m gonna be late.” Kyo stood quickly, bowl in hand, and rushed over to the sink. When he passed by again, his eyes looked a bit hopeful. “I’ll see you later, then?”
Tohru nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll be waiting here until you come back! Or—not in this exact spot—” she blushed “—I won’t be in the kitchen, probably. I don’t know where I’ll be when you—”
“All right! It’s all right. I get it.” Kyo chuckled and ruffled her hair. “You talk a lot more than I expected you to,” he replied. “If you’re not here, then I’ll find you. You’re pretty hard to miss, Tohru. I’ll see you when I come home.”
He left her to go upstairs, and she heard him yell something just as Yuki hurried downstairs. Yuki gave her another wave as he rushed past the hall to the front door. Tohru stared after him, remaining on her feet.
She had so much residual giddiness inside of her that she wasn’t sure where to put it. She was sure they must have had more questions, but they were probably withholding them for her own benefit. Whether she had the answers they wanted, however, was yet to be determined. All she had to do was wait for them to come back home.
Home, because that was what this was now. Home.
Thursday afternoon…
Days since the accident: ???
...
~
...
Tohru had lost track of time as she finished perfecting the circular shape of her mochi. She wiped her forehead, bits of flour and flakes of yeast sticking to her apron, the newest one Shigure had bought for her. She even had a bit of her work on top of her bandana, which pushed her bangs back and out of her face. Using the kitchen tools had been difficult, but she’d managed with just a spoon, a fork, a butter knife, and the singular bowl and box she’d used for a stool. There was no way she would have been able to use the actual devices Kyo did, but a fork for her was good enough as a whisk.
The door opened behind her and Tohru gasped, quickly tossing her apron and bandana to the side and hurrying to put her sticky tape onto her shoes. Once secured, she did the same with her climbing gloves and started scaling the wall. She should have been more focused on when Yuki and Kyo got back from school. It was supposed to be a surprise.
“I told you, if you keep running away from Kagura every time she comes near you, you’re just making it worse on yourself.” Yuki’s voice floated in from the very front of the house. “I tell you—the girl smells fear,” Yuki added. “Yours especially.”
Kyo growled. “Who said anything about being afraid of her?!”
“You did. I heard just how high your voice went up just now. You’re obviously petrified.”
“Shut up! I’m not a-frickin-fraid of Kagura!”
“…Is something cooking?”
A little sweat built up on the back of Tohru’s neck as she reached just shy of the cabinet’s underbelly. The heat from the kitchen plus the exertion from climbing was making her all hot and sticky. She may not have needed to turn on the oven for her project, but she had needed to handle the pot over the stove. Shigure had done most of that, just in case, while Tohru guided him, but whenever she did this, they kept it a secret from the boys. It was more fun to let them think she’d done it all on her own. Plus, Shigure was insistent that she pretty much had, anyway.
Remaining under the shade of the cupboard, Tohru looked over her shoulder as Kyo and Yuki came into the kitchen, tossing their bags by the living room kotatsu. With as bright as it was in the kitchen, Tohru hoped they didn’t catch sight of her hiding just under their noses. She watched as Yuki moved over to her cutting board where she’d been working, his finger experimentally poking one of the mochi balls she’d rolled as best as she was able.
“Mochi?” Yuki sounded confused.
“What? I haven’t had that since I was a kid,” Kyo replied, joining Yuki and almost shoving him out of the way to get to one of the desserts. He held one in his hand, staring for a while longer, before he narrowed his gaze around the kitchen. “Tohru!”
He always seemed to know where to look for her, or maybe it was because she picked the same route to head back inside each and every time. It took only three seconds—a new record—before she felt his eyes land on her back. She jumped, especially when he slid over and stood right in front of her, ducking so that his face was level.
“Tohru.”
She squeaked and squirmed. “Kyo!”
He’d already set his hands upon her, pinching her waist, and gently tugged her off of the wall. The adhesive of the sticky tape kept her well grounded for longer than it should have. Or, it very well could have been that Kyo was only half-heartedly trying to peel her off of the wall. Either way, Tohru whined as her hands and feet came loose, leaving her tangled in human fingers and more warmth that was too hot right now.
“Welcome home,” she said, tilting her head back to look at him.
“You know you don’t have to do these things, Miss Honda,” Yuki said. He still hadn’t moved from where he was studying the mochi balls. Instead, he too had taken one in hand. “Though, I for one appreciate it.” He smiled at Kyo’s huff before holding out the mochi. “Is it all right if I eat one first?”
“Yes, go ahead—please!” Tohru gestured to the pack of them. “I made them for you guys.”
“It’s not that I’m not appreciative,” Kyo snapped, glaring at Yuki, before glaring at Tohru. “You’re cooking all on your own again when no one’s around. What if you fall into your mixing bowl again?”
Tohru flushed, recalling how hard it had been to get the batter out of her hair and dress. How much she’d wanted to curl up into a ball and hide away when Kyo, who had been the only one home at the time, had plucked her out and admonished her all while helping her wash off the egg yolk on her head. Her yearning for physical contact wasn’t as strong as before, but that definitely didn’t stop her from enjoying it—even when he pinched her cheeks with well-practiced accuracy and scolded her for making ‘goo goo eyes.’
He’d called her a handful that day too. It had almost made her feel guilty. Not guilty enough to stop, though.
“It’s fine! I’m sure I would have pulled myself out!” Tohru said as she righted her balance when he placed her beside the mochi. She put her hand on her bicep and raised her fist, very much in the way of Rosy the Riveter. Though, it was less effective when she’d tossed her bandana to the wayside already. “It’s the small price to pay for hard work, I always say!”
Kyo sighed, hanging his head and shaking it. “You never say that,” he mumbled.
“Thank you, Miss Honda. Really.” Yuki smoothed her loose strands with his fingers, giving Tohru even more reason to grin. “You should definitely have one of your own to try. They’re really good.”
Tohru’s eyes glittered for a second before they widened. She shook her hands. “Oh no, I made them for you all! I couldn’t! Besides, I wouldn’t eat very much of it anyway—”
Yuki plucked up another one of her mochi balls and held it out in front of her, brows raised. “I insist.”
Well, how could she say no? So, with a small murmur of something unintelligible, Tohru leaned forward to take a bite of her own creation. It actually was pretty good, if she had to say so herself. Though she couldn’t eat the full thing—and the balls themselves weren’t very big for Yuki and Kyo—she was glad to have been at least shared a few bites of it, leaving perhaps just a third of it left. Dabbing her mouth with the wash cloth she’d been using to erase her flour-prints from the counter, she watched as Kyo picked at least four mochi to fit into his hand.
“How was school?” she asked, looking up at Yuki.
Yuki shrugged, his way of saying ‘more or less all right.’ “Manabe was insistent he, Machi, and I visit my brother’s shop again today,” he said. That wistful look whenever he mentioned the girl—then the grimace whenever he brought up his righthand vice president—crossed his face again. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to come with us. Obviously not with us, with us, but I could carry you in my bag? Ayame’s girlfriend does do little miniature versions for some of their display pieces, and you said you’d thought about getting new dresses.”
Tohru’s heartbeat ceased for a moment. She tried to make her tight grip against the hem of her dress not too obvious. She’d been living with Yuki and Kyo a while now, but not as long as to venture out somewhere public—especially not a place involving their family or friends. The most she’d met in terms of their wide array of cousins was Hatori (she’d caught a bad cold one day) and Momiji (who pretty much found her on his own). Whenever she went out, it was always the park, or to Yuki’s secret garden, or somewhere else that didn’t have too many people around to look or care about them talking to their coat pockets. She knew her decision to hide was for her own sake and her safety, but in a way, it also hurt not being able to just be normal with them.
But, if he was asking her to…
Kyo sneered at Yuki, cutting Tohru off from deciding. “Dude, don’t take her on your dumb date. What, you planning to force her to listen to you and Machi hit it off?”
“I said Manabe was there too, didn’t I, stupid?” Though, Yuki’s cheeks were pink.
“Thank you for thinking of me,” Tohru replied quickly; she knew better than to let them go at it. Otherwise, she’d never be able to get a word in between them. “But you should have fun! I wouldn’t want you to spend the whole time worrying about me being there. You wouldn’t act like yourself.”
Yuki paused, sighed, and nodded. He bent at the knees a bit so they were level. “At least let me try to get you something there?”
Tohru smiled shyly. “If you want to—thank you.”
Setting his hands atop his thighs, Yuki stood up and rummaged through the cabinets for a little container, where he put some of the mochi into. Before heading out of the entryway, Yuki pointed at Kyo and squinted. “Behave yourself,” he said.
Kyo flipped him off just before he disappeared. Sometime during her conversation with Yuki, he’d put his mochi onto a small plate. With his other hand, he held it out for Tohru, waiting patiently as she ripped off her adhesive and scurried into his palm. She’d never wanted to get too used to being transferred around like this, but sometimes it was nice not having to swing and scale her way upstairs. Plus, it cut the time significantly and kept them from waiting on her too long. They were adamant about her not needing to live in the walls, or borrow, or traipse her way through their home anymore. It was hers too now.
Although, Tohru was starting to think they liked it when she still ran around as she once would have. They liked catching her—anticipating where she’d end up next. It was like a game.
Kyo’s room was still where she had her setup of a sleeping pad, though since then Shigure and Yuki had gotten better cloth for her to use as a mattress, pillows, and blankets. Instead of nestling deeper into the structure, she kept her bedding directly adjacent to her ‘door.’ That way, it was easier for her to climb out and quicker for Kyo to check up on her, as he seemed to make a habit of doing after she’d fallen sick. All it took was one knock as forewarning before he moved the wallpaper aside and looked in on her. The second best part was that the dust didn’t bother her nearly as much in her new placement. She’d stopped sneezing altogether.
Kyo sat on his bed and slid his plate onto the bedside table. He let Tohru off of his hand onto the pillow beneath. “You made them for Valentine’s Day, didn’t you?”
Tohru froze, though not before nearly tripping over her own feet to sit down. “Valentine’s Day?” she said in a thin squeak. “I didn’t know it was Valentine’s Day!”
He rolled his eyes and smirked, poking her. “You’re a terrible liar, Tohru. You know that?” His expression softened some. “Did your mom teach you how to make mochi? I can’t think of how else you’d know,” he added.
It was almost scary how well Kyo seemed to be able to read her mind, but it was a good scary. It made her feel closer to him. She braided her hair into two loose braids, smiling off into the distance. “Yes, they were Mom’s favorite. I know I’m not a good cook because…” She gestured to her stature. “But I know a lot of recipes! Just this time, I thought they might be easier to make than chocolate. I know that’s popular when it’s Valentine’s, right?”
Kyo nodded—then looked away. “You know what Valentine’s is though, right?”
“It’s a day to show your gratitude to someone, isn’t it? That’s why I wanted to make them! Because I’m really thankful for you all—you, Yuki, Shigure. I thought it would be perfect.” Tohru hesitated. “You don’t like them?”
“No—I mean, yes, I like them. It’s just you… Ah, you know what? Never mind. Maybe it’s better I don’t say anything.”
Tohru tilted her head. What else was there to the holiday? Her mom had always bought her chocolate on the fourteenth and they ate it together until just looking at chocolate the next morning made them gag. Yet from what Kyo said, it sounded like it was more to it than that than just giving the people you loved something you put your own love into. He was probably embarrassed, and that was why he wouldn’t look at her. She’d understood he wasn’t used to giving and receiving, with how many times he’d been at a loss for words.
The world shifted and rolled around her like water waves as Kyo repositioned onto the bed, lying down on his side. He had his cheek propped up on his hand as they watched each other, just a foot of distance between them, which was why it wasn’t any trouble for him to reach for her and tap at the crown of her head.
“What am I going to do with you?” he said in a quiet voice, more to himself than to her. That halfway smile on his mouth gave Tohru pause. “Next time I come home, am I going have to fish you out of the sink too?”
“I won’t!” She took his finger off of her head to place into her lap, patting it reassuringly. “I haven’t fallen into a sink since I was ten!”
Kyo sighed. “And this is what I was afraid of.” His finger remained, even as Tohru lay on the pillow too. Soon, all of his fingers fanned out around her, tenting around her body as though his hand were a blanket. He didn’t press his palm into her, leaving a gap that would have been easy enough for her to slide out of. Nonetheless, it was like a cocoon. “You’re always going out of your way for other people. I don’t know how you do it,” he added. “Still, thanks.”
With the heat in her face, Tohru was sure she was probably blushing. Or, it was just very warm under Kyo’s hand. “It’s the least I can do!” Tohru paused for a few moments before asking: “So…you wouldn’t mind if something similar happened on another day that isn't Valentine's?”
“Not a chance.” He looked away from her pout. “…Unless we make it together,” he mumbled in the end. “Just so I can keep an eye on you and you don’t slip into the garbage disposal or something.”