FIC: Spring Flowers (Fruits Basket) (for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
miyuki_mina)
Jun. 19th, 2006 09:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ficwizeTitle: Spring Flowers
Author:wizefics (crossposted at this journal!)
Fandom: Fruits Basket
Dedication: formiyuki_mina at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fic_on_demand
Request: Flowers
A/N: I really liked this request and hope that I came close to doing it justice. Thanks for the awesome idea! For the June!Challenge Day 19!
Kazuma’s house was surrounded by wild plum trees. He hadn’t cultivated them, but they had grown in magnificent splendor. In fact, he had attempted to cut several of them back, where the branches grew dangerously towards wires, or into windows, or across pathways through his yard.
Sohma Kazuma had never thought much about the plum trees one way or the other. In the fall, when the sweet sticky fruit fell from the trees, he allowed the children from his dojo to pick and carry home their fill. It kept the fruit from spoiling on the ground and kept smiles on the faces of the children he taught.
In the winter, the branches danced in the wind, their branches displayed starkly against the snow and the moon that illuminated them at night. If he thought of the trees at all then, he thought they appeared lonely, but determined. They survived the harsh weather and prospered.
During the hot dry summer months, the leaves swayed gently, shading his house and dojo and keeping the outdoors cooler than it otherwise would have been. They provided shelter to birds and small animals of all types, and he would occasionally stop to watch as a squirrel or chipmunk raced along the braches, or listen as a lark sang its song into the empty hours of the day.
During the spring, though, Kazuma could not help but notice the plum trees. They ran riotous with color, their blossoms sweetening the air and proving un-ignorable on the branch. Sometimes, when feeling particularly festive, Kazuma would pick a sprig of the branch, complete with its pretty blossoms, and take it inside. For a few days, it would brighten up his house, but in the end, it died. He usually didn’t spare much time thinking about that fact either. He merely threw away the dead blossoms and washed the vase that had housed them during their brief, but colorful, stay.
In fact, Kazuma never really gave the plum trees a second thought, until the year he brought Kyo to live with him. Keeping track of a small boy was harder than he had at first imagined, living like a bachelor as he was.
In the fall, Kyo ate so much fruit that he made himself sick. He left sticky fingerprints on the walls and tables and often on himself. He died his face and his clothes a purple color that clashed with his hair, but that made Kazuma laugh as he washed the little boy clean again.
In the winter, Kazuma was often awakened from his sleep to go and comfort the young boy, whose nightmares showed him monsters outside the window. No matter how often Kazuma showed him that it was only branches tapping gently in the wind, or that the shadows were only reflections of the moon off the snow and through the trees, he could never fully manage to banish the lingering fear in Kyo’s amber eyes.
In the summer, Kyo would drag him outdoors, for picnics under the leaves. They would eat and spar and nap, protected from the sun and from the world by the leafy green foliage that blocked them from the view of passerbys. Kyo would climb the trees, as quickly and nimbly as the cat he was possessed by and then shriek with laugher as Kazuma tried to fetch him down. In the end, they often merely rested together, words unnecessary as they allowed the long summer months to linger over their lives, so often filled with dark and cold. The plum trees stood guardian over these happier gentler times.
It was during the spring, though, that Kazuma finally realized how very much like the plum trees the boy he had adopted into his heart truly was. Like the trees, Kyo demanded attention. He was loud and vibrant and so full of life that it was sometimes breathtaking to watch. He demanded life on his own terms, and Kazuma encouraged him to seek out what he wanted. Deep in his soul, Kazuma understood the truth. If Kyo was forced away from the sunshine and the wind and the ones who loved him, he, like the plum blossoms would die. It was during the spring that Kazuma first knew that he would defy his entire family, Akito, anyone who would try to lock this precious life up and destroy it. He would not stand idly by and allow Kyo’s dreams and vibrancy to be destroyed.
It was that year that Kazuma quit picking blossoms from the trees to brighten his home. Out of idle curiosity while in a book store, Kazuma picked up a book detailing the care of his plum trees. Skimming the pages, he paused, caught up by the simple truth of the words before him: Wild Plums represent the wild and independent spirit. Refusing to be tamed, the trees will prosper or die on their own terms. The best care that can be given simply requires a little attention and a lot of appreciation.
Smiling, Kazuma bought the book and paid for it at the register. He didn’t linger, though, over the pages. He needed to get home to his trees, and to his little boy, who was climbing ever higher in the branches, and ever more firmly into Kazuma’s heart. He would give them both the required attention and he was incapable of not appreciating the wild and independent spirit that surrounded his home.
Author:
wizefics (crossposted at this journal!)Fandom: Fruits Basket
Dedication: for
miyuki_mina at fic_on_demandRequest: Flowers
A/N: I really liked this request and hope that I came close to doing it justice. Thanks for the awesome idea! For the June!Challenge Day 19!
Kazuma’s house was surrounded by wild plum trees. He hadn’t cultivated them, but they had grown in magnificent splendor. In fact, he had attempted to cut several of them back, where the branches grew dangerously towards wires, or into windows, or across pathways through his yard.
Sohma Kazuma had never thought much about the plum trees one way or the other. In the fall, when the sweet sticky fruit fell from the trees, he allowed the children from his dojo to pick and carry home their fill. It kept the fruit from spoiling on the ground and kept smiles on the faces of the children he taught.
In the winter, the branches danced in the wind, their branches displayed starkly against the snow and the moon that illuminated them at night. If he thought of the trees at all then, he thought they appeared lonely, but determined. They survived the harsh weather and prospered.
During the hot dry summer months, the leaves swayed gently, shading his house and dojo and keeping the outdoors cooler than it otherwise would have been. They provided shelter to birds and small animals of all types, and he would occasionally stop to watch as a squirrel or chipmunk raced along the braches, or listen as a lark sang its song into the empty hours of the day.
During the spring, though, Kazuma could not help but notice the plum trees. They ran riotous with color, their blossoms sweetening the air and proving un-ignorable on the branch. Sometimes, when feeling particularly festive, Kazuma would pick a sprig of the branch, complete with its pretty blossoms, and take it inside. For a few days, it would brighten up his house, but in the end, it died. He usually didn’t spare much time thinking about that fact either. He merely threw away the dead blossoms and washed the vase that had housed them during their brief, but colorful, stay.
In fact, Kazuma never really gave the plum trees a second thought, until the year he brought Kyo to live with him. Keeping track of a small boy was harder than he had at first imagined, living like a bachelor as he was.
In the fall, Kyo ate so much fruit that he made himself sick. He left sticky fingerprints on the walls and tables and often on himself. He died his face and his clothes a purple color that clashed with his hair, but that made Kazuma laugh as he washed the little boy clean again.
In the winter, Kazuma was often awakened from his sleep to go and comfort the young boy, whose nightmares showed him monsters outside the window. No matter how often Kazuma showed him that it was only branches tapping gently in the wind, or that the shadows were only reflections of the moon off the snow and through the trees, he could never fully manage to banish the lingering fear in Kyo’s amber eyes.
In the summer, Kyo would drag him outdoors, for picnics under the leaves. They would eat and spar and nap, protected from the sun and from the world by the leafy green foliage that blocked them from the view of passerbys. Kyo would climb the trees, as quickly and nimbly as the cat he was possessed by and then shriek with laugher as Kazuma tried to fetch him down. In the end, they often merely rested together, words unnecessary as they allowed the long summer months to linger over their lives, so often filled with dark and cold. The plum trees stood guardian over these happier gentler times.
It was during the spring, though, that Kazuma finally realized how very much like the plum trees the boy he had adopted into his heart truly was. Like the trees, Kyo demanded attention. He was loud and vibrant and so full of life that it was sometimes breathtaking to watch. He demanded life on his own terms, and Kazuma encouraged him to seek out what he wanted. Deep in his soul, Kazuma understood the truth. If Kyo was forced away from the sunshine and the wind and the ones who loved him, he, like the plum blossoms would die. It was during the spring that Kazuma first knew that he would defy his entire family, Akito, anyone who would try to lock this precious life up and destroy it. He would not stand idly by and allow Kyo’s dreams and vibrancy to be destroyed.
It was that year that Kazuma quit picking blossoms from the trees to brighten his home. Out of idle curiosity while in a book store, Kazuma picked up a book detailing the care of his plum trees. Skimming the pages, he paused, caught up by the simple truth of the words before him: Wild Plums represent the wild and independent spirit. Refusing to be tamed, the trees will prosper or die on their own terms. The best care that can be given simply requires a little attention and a lot of appreciation.
Smiling, Kazuma bought the book and paid for it at the register. He didn’t linger, though, over the pages. He needed to get home to his trees, and to his little boy, who was climbing ever higher in the branches, and ever more firmly into Kazuma’s heart. He would give them both the required attention and he was incapable of not appreciating the wild and independent spirit that surrounded his home.
