"Hold Onto Nothing" a Fruits Basket fragment by Ysabet MacFarlane original release date: February 6, 2005 ******** "What is it?" "Whatever I want it to be." Sunlight poured down from the summer sky, casting shadows in the hem of the kimono that rested against his bare knee. Haru squinted, first at the black shimmer in the folds of cloth, then at the brightly colored square of paper transforming under Akito's nimble fingers. Fold after fold after fold, and the paper lost its shape, became nothing. He leaned over and stared, trying to memorize the pattern. It became something. A tiny bird lay in Akito's palm, dwarfed by the thin fingers. Haru jumped back--only an inch, but enough that his god laughed at his surprise, a light sound that carried through the air. "See? Anything I want." "Show me?" "Hasn't your mother showed you how to do origami?" Akito's smile was a little smug, but the secretive glance that went with it hinted at a willingness to share. Haru watched closely while the bird lost its shape, became only a scrap of paper again. Creases held the imprint of Akito's imposed will; Haru traced them with his eyes, forgetting the sun, the heat, everything but the focus needed to follow Akito's movements. Bird again, slightly bedraggled from the changes. Paper. Bird. Paper. Bird. Again and again, transformation after transformation in Akito's deft hands. The world in miniature. "His wings move," Akito said, and tugged on the fragile flaps. The bird flew, motionless; Haru reached for it, stroked the paper with tentative fingers. Akito let him touch it, one pair of hands inside another. "He looks like he wants to fly away," Haru whispered, entranced, and the moment broke. Akito jerked away, wide-eyed; Haru looked up in surprise as the cool silk of the kimono slid off his knee. "Don't be stupid!" The bird came apart, became a tattered scrap of paper that slipped out of Akito's shaking fingers. Its bones were only lines. Haru stared at it, biting his lip. "Akito--" Silence. His god had turned away. Haru rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, trying to block the sun's glare, and picked the paper up off the grass. One slow fold, and another . . . not right. He tried again. And again. The bird stubbornly refused to take shape in his hands. "That's wrong." A shadow fell across his face, and Akito was at his side, reaching for the paper, folding it again. "There, like that. There." Haru closed his hand in a loose fist over the bird, with its wings that would not (of course not, don't be stupid) carry it away. Akito frowned at him, and touched the top of his head. "There. It's fine. Do you want to keep it?" "Yes," he replied. "Don't take it apart." Akito sighed and walked away. Alone, Haru opened his hand and gazed at the bird, trying to fathom the mystery of its lines. FIN. ******** Written for Flamika in exchange for icons, and based on a panel in chapter 105. The title comes from Tori Amos' "Pretty Good Year". Characters belong to Takaya Natsuki, and this fragment belongs to me. Not for reposting.