The Puppet Master's Last Testament (Fruits Basket FanFiction)

Chapter 45: Cold Front

Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with Fruits Basket.

What does it take to set the Sohmas free after Akito's death?

A/N: Thanks for reading! Strong Language Warning.

The Puppet Master's Last Testament

Chapter Forty-Five: Cold Front

Shigure woke with a splitting, throbbing headache, like someone had banged his head between brass cymbals. He mumbled expletives under his breath. ("Another fucking wasted night.") The blinding light outside hurt his eyes. He would have got up to close the blinds, but he was sure he would have tripped or stumbled into the wall. He buried his sleepy head in the soft pillow, hoping that sleep would fall upon him. He sighed hopelessly. He was hopelessly lost in the game. Every time he wanted to confess his feelings for the girl, he ended up biting his tongue because the consequences were too… what? Hurtful? Cruel? Wasn't it crueler, more sadistic to keep luring her, baiting her with sweet words and soft touches?

Ultimately he cared more about his own feelings. That would never change. And he hated himself for it so much. He would hide his true feelings for as long as the game took. That was his nature, deceitful, calculating, and narcissistic.

He always got what he wanted.

Thoughts of last night filtered through his brain. He remembered Tohru spoon-feeding him a slimy, puke-colored substance. It was like grits. At least he could think clearly. He remembered the soft tendrils of her hair tickling his cheek when she bent down. He propped up on his hands and looked at the clock and sighed heavily. Another day. More lies.

The door to his room swung open, in waltzed smug Manabe with a tray of hot food.

Shigure said lazily, "I don't fancy strange men in my room."

"Tohru wanted me to bring you lunch."

"Lunch. Oh fuck."

"We made you rice porridge with pork, fluffy eggs, and green onions. Here is also a pastry that we bought. We didn't want to overstuff you."

What is all his we-ing? You spend the morning with her? You, a little fucker whom I barely know, spent the day with my little flower? He felt a redness travel up his neck.

He needed to contain himself. He wrung his damp hands.

"Tell her thank you." I don't thank you. You don't deserve it.

After Manabe left, Shigure finished his lunch quickly and lifted himself from the bed, excruciatingly slow. He pulled a clean navy yukata out of the closet and threw it over himself before making his way to the conjoining bathroom.

He leaned over the sink, staring at his gaunt, jaundice-yellow complexion. He had red marks on his cheek, from sleeping in an awkward position on the bed, and having the pillowcase folds mark his face. Shigure swore he wasn't going to drink again. An empty promise.

He cupped lukewarm water in his hands and splashed it over his marked face to bring color to his face. The water hung from his eyelashes and the bottom of his nose. He chuckled, imagine if all of that frozen. He would look like a blushing abominable snowman. He was thinking. He had never seen Tohru early in the morning, before she washed her face and such. He made it a short-term goal to see her. His little flower in the early hours! It would definitely be a feat, seeing as Shigure could not wake up in the wee hours of the morning, say, before eight.

He dried himself up.

Shigure put his fingers through the crack of the open door and peeled it open. He heard talking in the kitchen. His nostrils flared. The muscles around his mouth tightened. If he found that foul boy standing within three feet of his pure flower, he was going to strangle him.