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

Chapter 57: Epilogue: Daikon Wars

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: Oh, as a refresher, you should go to Chapter 12 and read the last few paragraphs, when the 'dwarves' are telling the story of RRDG.

The Puppet Master's Last Testament

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Epilogue: Daikon Wars

Tohru and Shigure removed their matching black motorcycle helmets and hung them on the handlebars. Shigure took her hand in his as they confidently strode into the supermarket. Their love: it was no longer a secret or a coveted knowledge between two people. It wasn't a leech-sucking relationship or a predestined game. It was a full-fledged, reciprocated romance. Shigure loved her so deeply in his heart, that when he split hers in two, he fractured his own in one thousand ways. Even now, when she was out working late or studying at the library, his throat constricted and he felt unabashedly miserable; a lovesick puppy. (Though he did not admit it aloud when his friends asked.

But they knew. All the Sohmas did. They could see it in his glossy eyes.)

Also, he never failed to make her feel guilty when she left for school (by pouting and moaning), and she always returned to his outstretched arms and teasing smile as soon as she could. Love was a crazy thing.

Today was Friday. They were buying dinner's ingredients. A simmering stew, oden, was what they had decided on together. It was perfect for a cold winter evening. Shigure offered to get the daikon radish while she picked out carrots and winter melon. After her meticulous selection, she crept up behind him. Shigure jumped up exaggeratedly when she wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him from the back. He twisted around and hugged her back, tightly.

"Hello wifey," he said lightheartedly. (Though he hoped that one day he could ask her hand in marriage.) His hands wandered up her back to her hair. He combed his fingers through her pin-straight hair, but no matter how much mussing he did, it stayed straight. He smiled. No matter how harsh and aggressive he had been, she had finally returned to her spirited, optimistic self. A flower that could never wilt. He was grateful, because the repercussions of 'that night' had been dreadful and heartbreaking.

She laid her head on his chest, not saying anything. They basked in the solace and unity of the moment. He didn't think he could ever get used to touching her, pressing his chest against hers: warm, soft, intimate.

The anticipation of the next time they made love – touched each other's souls, melted his mind, and at night, soaked his boxers.

"'Gure?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

Without any hesitation he said, "I love you too." Completely and indefinitely, as he had said that night she returned with Hatori. He had thought that he had finally lost it, before her repetition that she forgave him.

After his heartbeat slowed down, he angled his head back and looked down at her. "I want to kiss you hard."

"At home." She said, smiling. She was less bashful about petting and kissing, though the times her cheeks reddened did make him soften like a romantic sap.

Home. He had never called it that, a place of security, love. Not when he was a boy, and not when he was a young man. His mouth moved over hers, and his tongue darted between her lips. She moaned his name from her damp lips but before their kiss could deepen and be called 'indecent' in a public place, he pulled away and whispered gruffly, "Prelude." She sighed softly, licking her lips. It gave him a hard-on. The things she did to him.