***** The following fragments are something of an omake release--when I wrote my Fruits Basket novel, "The Ceremony of Innocence", I originally intended to write a follow-up Haru/Rin story. However, "Innocence" wound up being so far out of canon that I scrapped the idea. These are the pieces that were written for it. No real spoilers for the manga, but it's assumed that you're familiar with my novel for this to make any sense. Ysabet MacFarlane (ba087@chebucto.ns.ca) Absolutely not for reposting. ***** i Outside they were both silent, at a loss for words, but at least they were alone. The last traces of the sunset gleamed in her hair, like oil swirled on asphalt. Haru hunted for his voice, tried to shape the words he wanted. "Will you--do you want to?" The same numb beginnings of fear he'd felt when he'd picked up the phone three years earlier and Hatori's voice had said his name before falling into helpless silence. He made himself say the words, searching her face. "Rin, do you want to marry me? Will you?" Wondered what she heard in his voice. Her expression shifted slightly, and that look took his breath away, pulled him so completely back to a long-lost evening--almost four years ago, now--that the present moment dimmed. Lying on her bed while she undressed in front of him, after pulling out of the hungry tangle of kisses they'd been sharing. She had looked so mature to him then, calm awareness of what they both wanted, no trace of shyness as she lay down beside him again and showed him how to touch her. Remembering her as she had been, from his present vantage point, she looked so young that it made his teeth ache. She wore the same look now as she had then, and he could almost feel her arms around him, almost see the sudden stillness on her face when he found it more difficult than he'd expected. Her quick nod, and "push hard," she'd said quietly. The same expression now as then, waiting to be hurt and trying not to show it, but _wanting_ so badly. He'd obeyed, not sure what to expect, felt her jerk under him . . . then the slow, slow rise of her breasts as she inhaled and shifted herself, feeling the way their bodies were joined. No tears (she told him later that she'd expected it to hurt more than it had), only the clear darkness of her eyes piercing his as they lay still and felt each other. Neither of them had had any particular skill yet at lovemaking; other nights in his memory were the ones increasingly filled with pleasure as they'd learned to make each other's bodies respond. But that moment, that look in her eyes, was burned so deeply into him that he sometimes thought it would be the last thing he saw before he died. The four years between then and now might have lasted only a heartbeat. ii Haru woke suddenly in the middle of the night, throwing himself out of the clinging dream into the darkness of his room, and reached instinctively for Rin in the moment before the pounding of his pulse began to slow. Before his hand could fall on the empty bed next to him he remembered that she hadn't been beside him for years. He let the hand fall anyway, and the feel of warm skin under his touch instead of cool sheets startled him the rest of the way awake. "Rin," he whispered. "Mm?" She rolled close to him while his fingers moved up and down her arm involuntarily. "I didn't mean to wake you." "You didn't." "Rin," he said again, feeling her arms going around him. "Rin." Her name came out in a sob he hadn't been expecting at all, and then he was crying into her skin, clutching her so hard that in the morning they would find the imprint of his hands bruised into her. His lips moved over her neck, so close that his teeth grazed her: half kisses and half voiceless pleading, as if she could read the silent words through her skin. She waited it out without asking what was wrong, cradling him against her and squeezing her eyes closed against the fear creeping through her. She had never seen him in such a state. When he had cried himself out and relaxed his hold on her, she pulled back a little and kissed his face. The salt of his tears prickled against her lips. "I've got you." When he looked up at her his eyes shone in the way only Jyuunishi eyes did, all pupil in the dark. She knew the low laugh he managed was an attempt to reassure her, strained and humorless. "I've gotten used to you not being here," he said, his voice hoarse after the crying. "Except when I sleep, sometimes I try to find you . . . and you were here, and I . . . " She shook her head, not quite understanding. "Don't leave again," he whispered. iii The newborn baby--so young he hadn't yet been given his name--was sleeping when they arrived, his mother holding him on her lap and watching them as they approached. Rin walked slowly, wishing desperately that she could simply take Haru's hand and run back out of the room. Even if that had been a choice before they entered, it was no longer an option. Just being in the infant's presence was wrapping chains around her soul, so deep that even as they settled around her she was already forgetting what it felt like to be free. They made themselves at home in the endless grooves carved by Akito's bonds to her, and by the time she and Haru reached the baby and his mother they both belonged irrevocably to him. Anything more was just a formality. The baby opened his eyes when they knelt, and stared up at them. Rin forgot to breathe as she was pulled down into his gaze, sucked so thoroughly out of awareness of the rest of the world that she barely noticed the tears pouring helplessly down her cheeks. There was nothing but innocence in those eyes. Not yet. That, and the deep longing to hold him, did nothing to free her of the terror that went with being his property. She felt Haru shake himself beside her, surfacing enough from the curse's hold to speak to the baby's mother. "May I hold him?" He managed to frame the need as a request, and the woman answered as if it weren't only a formality. "Of course, Hatsuharu-san." Rin tried to remember her name as she handed the child over, watched Haru settle on the floor with the infant in his arms, his head bowed over the tiny form. It came to her after a moment. "How is he, Sayoko-san?" she asked, watching her lover cradling the child who was their god. The tears staining his face reminded her of her own, and she brushed uselessly at them. The other woman--about their age, Rin guessed--gave her a nervous look. Rin wondered if she had ever spoken with the Jyuunishi before, and what her uncertainty would become when she realized what indirect power she now had over them, through her son. "He is strong and healthy, Isuzu-san." Rin shivered and edged closer to Haru, who uncurled himself a little to let her draw near. Her focus dwindled to the distance between herself and the baby; she felt Haru's thigh warm against her leg as she bent over them, breathing in the distinct scent of a newborn child. She slowly touched the baby's head, feeling the silken down of his first hair under her fingers. Her stomach turned over as she remembered the times Akito had touched her in the same way. She barely even realized that she was speaking aloud, or heard Sayoko's reply. "Please raise him well. Don't let the family twist him." "I will do my best." But Sayoko sounded more puzzled than certain, and that drew Rin's attention back to her. She silently pulled her hair over her shoulder to show the other woman her scarred back. Sayoko made a soft sound of horror. "A gift from Akito," Rin said without turning around. She touched the baby's face lightly, the curse still compelling her to touch him. [as finished as it's going to get] ***** Fruits Basket is the creation of Takaya Natsuki, and is licensed in North America by FUNimation (anime) and Tokyopop (manga). Used without permission or the intention of making a profit. Please support the original work! "The Ceremony of Innocence" and all related materials © 2004-2005 by Ysabet MacFarlane (ba087@chebucto.ns.ca). Comments and criticism welcomed at the above address. This story may be reproduced and archived so long as the original text is preserved and the author's name and contact information remain attached. Notifying the author of any such use is an appreciated courtesy. NO CHANGES OF ANY KIND ARE PERMITTED.