A/N: I'll give a more fleshed out author's note in the chapter to follow. For now, here's just hoping this fandom isn't completely dead!

Prologue

Summer 2002

He was a lonely being, that's something we know for certain.

The giving nature and genuine generosity that he harbored for those he watched over was acclaimed all through the lands, and people would travel miles just to glance at the beautiful robes that wrapped around him.

They would gather at his feet and sing praises, things such as:

"Dear great and wise one, please bless us with good harvest."

"Beautiful spirit, grace my children with beauty and competence."

"Great being, give us wealth and success this year once more."

And as always, he would meet the wishes of each person who presented themselves before him. He wouldn't rest for days, even decades at some times, merely trying to comply with each wish that was laid down so desperately at his feet.

But his power weakened after some time, he grew weary and restless and his limbs ached, and he couldn't even lift his fingers from the strain he had put them under. It came the time to turn the people away, hoping they would be understanding after all he had given them.

Instead, the villagers who had traveled across seas and through terrible terrain turned against him. They cursed him, threw stones and torches, and demanded he grant their whims-for who had ever heard of a spirit growing weak?

Heartbroken, and weary from the cruel words of his former followers, he retreated, vowing never again to lift a finger for another mortal who asked favors of him. He spent centuries in solitary, where his fear and resentment of humans would build and solidify, until he was so unbearably alone but unable to venture past the very door of his own abode.

It was a passing chance that another spirit would find him-that of the cat's. Oh, yes. The cat took pity on the spirit, a spirit who at one point could grant any wish he was so given and now would weep pathetically into his own beautiful robes. Seeing him so downtrodden and unhappy he promised to stay by his side.

They became great friends, and the spirit was very glad to have someone to cure his crippling loneliness, but after some time the cat, as well, became disheartened and distant.

"Dear spirit, I truly enjoy the pleasure your company brings, but I miss my brothers dearly. I wish to see them again, if you would so allow it."

The spirit, surprised by the cat's words, told him that he couldn't allow the cat to leave him. He had grown fearful of the outside world and he feared even more being trapped by his loneliness again. Instead, he offered that they all come to stay and live with him in his home. In return he would offer strength and riches to each and every one of his brothers.

The cat agreed, and shortly after his brothers came to live amongst them; one by one they came to the house starting with the rat, then the ox, the tiger, the rabbit, and so on, of course. They feasted every night with food so tender and delicious and rice wine so pure and rich that they wished for it to never end. They would throw festivals and parties with music that could be heard for miles and dances that would last until dawn.

Yet, still, the gracious spirit quite obviously favored the cat. He would offer his right hand seat and would always pour his cup first.

His envious brother, the rat spirit, became quite perturbed by this and planned to conspire against him. He worked his way around his brothers, speaking subtle whispers against the cat's name until they each found reason to hate and resent the cat-whether it be from jealousy or for other foolish and whimsical reasons. They cast him out one by one, and the cat could feel their sharp tongues and bitter eyes against his back. He grew to hate his own brothers as they spoke against him.

Though nothing was more painful than the words they spoke that reached the ears of his dearest friend, the gracious spirit. The rat spoke lies and slander against him, and his brothers would agree with nodding heads and encouraging words. It enraged the once lonely spirit and caused him to cast away his dearest friend.

The cat begged and pleaded for mercy at the feet of the gracious spirit, but that only reminded him more of the mortals who would once do the same to reap material pleasures from him. He allowed the cat to continue to live amongst him and his brothers, but he was no longer offered a seat at his feasting table.

For years the cat would hear nothing but cruel words against his ears and would watch simply as the gracious spirit turned to favor his hated brother, the rat. It was like this until he died, while all the others were away at a feast.

While the gracious spirit had fallen into the lies the rat had so expertly whispered to him, he couldn't bear to see his dearest friend depart. A moment of great mercy graced him and with his powers he revived the cat from his breathless slumber.

But what he brought back from the clutches of death was not the friend he once knew. After years of rage building against the unfair treatment from both his closest friend and his once beloved family the monster that was revived was blinded by his own anger and was barely even capable of coherent thought. The deformed spirit struck out against the gracious one, but spared him, a mercy he did not extend to his brothers. One by one he struck them down and killed his brothers in cold blood, soon after submitting himself to such a fate, as well. The gracious spirit was left alone again.

There is nothing quite as lonely as knowing the beauty of friendship and kindness and having it ripped away from you so cruelly. The gracious spirit was alone once again, each friend that he had grown so close with killed, and his home empty of music and dance once more. Of course that was until one da-Oh dear, Tohru. Are those tears I see?

"Dammit, that's what you get for telling her all that shit. It's no fucking wonder, with how much you like to hear yourself talk."

"Really Shigure, I don't know why you thought it was a good idea to tell Ms. Honda such an upsetting version of the tale."

"I-I had no i-idea that it was so... so sad...What a tragic story," Tohru sniffled through her breaking voice. Kyo reached to grab the tissues handing them to Yuki who handed them to Tohru at the end of the table. A smirk slid across Shigure's lips as he set down his notes.

"I warned you."

"Wipe that damn smug look off your face before I do it for you. AND YOU!" Tohru jumped at the finger being thrust in her direction. "Don't cry at something so stupid. That just encourages this moron!"

She responded with a blow of her nose and Kyo rolled his eyes as he sat back against the wall in the dining room.

"You might as well have told her about the priest and the cat if you wanted to see Ms. Honda cry so badly," Yuki responded taking a sip of his tea.

"Ohh! That's my favorite story!"

"Th-the prie-"

"DON'T."

The responding slam of fist against wall resonated through the room, leaving behind a quiet enough air that allowed for the grinding of Kyo's teeth to breech the silence. Tohru sniffled again and Shigure smiled.

"Such a drama queen," Shigure placed his notes in his folder and slid them towards Tohru in the most tempting way possible. Yuki saw her eye the concealed papers and set his cup down against the table.

"You don't like that story, Kyo? What a surprise."

"Hey, back off! It's not like that last one painted the oh-so-fucking-precious rat in the best damn light, either."

"Yes, but there's a distinct difference here, Kyo. That being I don't care enough about children's stories to get worked up like a senseless idiot."

"YOU CALL THAT A STORY FOR KIDS?"

"Boys, calm down." Shigure said airily, reaching to grab a tissue from the box before Tohru and gracelessly blowing his own nose. "We were doing so well there, no yelling or fighting-"

"Yeah, because you nearly put us all to sleep," Kyo said with a huff as he relaxed against the wall again.

"I actually thought it was interesting," with a much steadier voice, Tohru turned her worried glance from the two boys back to Shigure. "I had no idea there was such a dark version of that story. And my mother told me that story nearly every night when I was a child!"

"Well I'd be surprised if she had known this version at all. You could say it's something of a Sohma folklore. A curse is a curse but it comes with good stories."

"I guess that would be true, huh?" She wiped her eyes and stood with a smile. "Even though it was sad, I'm glad you told me, Shigure! I'm always glad to learn more about the curse," when she turned her head to look over at Yuki and Kyo their faces were turned down and their eyes dark. There was almost a visible drop in her stomach as her eyes weighed against her smile.

She shook her head. It wasn't her business right now.

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, lovely Tohru!"

When Tohru left it was as if the room went dark. As if she were a match, an open flame in a room that would otherwise suffocate on its own darkness-Yuki was always keen to notice this. He loved her dearly because of this.

He was alone again and he couldn't breathe.

"Kyo."

Until he was reminded he wasn't. He felt air fill his lungs again.

"Kyo, there's really no need to pout. It's just a story, you know," Shigure would never manage to take on a tone that was comforting with the way the skin of his lips smeared across his teeth, and the way his eyes sparkled with mischievous indifference.

"Don't be stupid, I know that!" He snapped back.

"It really is a childish thing to get upset over," Yuki shot back, a dry itch forming in the back of his throat.

"NO ONE FUCKING ASKED YOU GUYS. Just-Goddammit, I'm going to bed too."

"Goodnight, lovely Kyo!"

"Oh shut up!"

The two listened as Kyo stormed up the stairs, Shigure making a faux expression of pain when the door slammed violently, leaving the air stale once again. Yuki tapped his fingers on the table idly, looking over at the folder laying menacingly on their kitchen table. Yuki's eyes only diverted when he heard the familiar sound of a lighter meeting the edge of a cigarette.

"You're welcome to read it if you want," smoke sifted through his lips that contorted into their usual smirk. Yuki turned his head and pushed the folder away slightly as if he were a child. "The difference is that you don't care, hm?"

"I don't care," Yuki reassured weakly. Quietly. "Do all your books plagiarize our family history like this?"

The dog gave a chuckle, blowing out another stream of smoke that Yuki inhaled deeply. Shigure slid the pack of cigarettes towards his younger cousin. Yuki reflexively moved towards the pack, only to hear footsteps patter above his head. He retracted his hand.

"In a minute," Yuki responded.

"Sweet and beautiful Tohru. A girl who knows the darkest of our secrets, the intimate details of your past, and you're scared she'll find you indulging in a little tobacco. That's sweet, Yuki. Really," Shigure chuckled.

"Must you be so aggravating every time you open your mouth to speak?" Yuki sighed, his eyes drawing back to the folder on the table which didn't go unnoticed by the dog.

"Really, Yuki, there's no shame in wanting to know about your past," Shigure said idly, sprawling out under the table as he sucked in another breath of smoke.

"It's not my past," Yuki said.

"Oh no?"

"Whatever it is you write, whatever it is you take from this curse and convolute in all your poetry is not my past, and it's not my life."

Shigure gave another easy laugh at that. Yuki responded with a glare.

"Tell me, Yuki, what have you read of mine?" Shigure rested his head on his hand, eyeing the rat with dark, playful eyes that seemed to gleam their strength from the still and restless night. Yuki didn't answer, rolling his eyes as he heard lights click off, and restless feet pad into silence above him. He took a cigarette from the pack and pulled out a small book of matches from his pocket, quickly bringing to life the nicotine with a small flame.

With a deep breath he filled his lungs with smoke, savoring the taste that it left behind in his body. Wrapping himself in the smoke that he released. Shigure watched him with that same dim amusement he had whenever he looked at anyone. The dog laughed again and Yuki attempted to ignore the irritating sound that tried to overpower the smoke.

Shigure crushed his cigarette against the ash tray and slid the folder towards himself, opening it up and laying it out on the table before Yuki.

"You know, when I was 17 and about to take my entrance exams, I was suspended from school for two weeks. I'm sure Aya has told you, that little incident with us wandering into the red light district on our school trip."

Yuki rolled his eyes, undoing the top button of his shirt as he also stretched his legs out under the table and took another drag.

"Well, anyway. I had taken a liking to exploring the Sohma grounds even as a child, and with all the free time in the world for a young man to use as he pleased I found myself in a dusty old storage room. In the most interesting of places too," Shigure prodded waiting for Yuki to look at him expectantly as he flipped through his own papers of research. He smiled down at it fondly as a soft blanket of silence entrapped them for a moment. Shigure sighed.

"Oh come on, aren't you going to ask me where I found it?"

"I figure you'll keep talking whether I respond to you or not," Yuki shot back. "It's an irritating habit of yours."

"Sticks and stones," he sang happily.

"What's your point, Shigure?"

"So forceful," Shigure teased with a mock whine before lighting another cigarette. "I spent the rest of my suspension pouring over records, diaries, accounts, learning secrets you wouldn't believe, dear Yuki. Everything about this little family of ours in one neat little pile. Sitting there, gathering dust. It was a tragedy. When I sat there in that little room, reading everything I could devour," Shigure took a deep drag, face filled with ecstasy as he reminisced, "I knew that I wanted to become a writer, it was in my bones."

Yuki stared at him, an eyebrow raised, arm draped over his bent knee that held his cigarette that gave off wisps of tobacco. Shigure wiped his nostalgic smile off his face and replaced it with the disconcerting smirk that Yuki had become all too familiar with. "Still not catching your interest, am I?"

"It's a nice story, Shigure," Yuki said. "But I don't have to read your books to know you don't concern yourself with nice."

Shigure's smile widened, eyes filled with an enthusiastic apathy and a warm disconnection that Yuki had been crushed under when he was a child. And then been drawn to when he first moved into this house.

"Every book I've written has been about the curse in some way, you know. That little treasure trove gave me the all the inspiration I could ever need. I hadn't even planned on going to college before then. But by the time I graduated university with my writing degree, my first book had been published. Deep, intruding details on our own family exploited and bound in shops all over the city that people consumed just as I had that day. Of course, there was no need to claim it as fiction, our reality is more than unbelievable. So I wrote another, and another, and another."

Yuki eyed the manuscript again, shifting uncomfortably on the floor as he blotted out his cigarette and lit another one immediately. The light from the match illuminating Shigure's face in a way that seemed honest.

"I peddled our ancestors' pain, longing, agony, and sold it to the public. Everyone wanted to know our family's dirty laundry and I was perfectly happy to indulge them. I kept the wages, and you know what I did, Yuki?"

"What?" Yuki asked, taking the bait.

"I bought a house," he said. "I bought this table, I bought those doors you and Kyo like to smash up. I bought these cigarettes," Shigure grinned. Yuki exhaled and watched the smoke dissipate in front of them. "And then I invited three darling children to stay with me in my cursed riches."

Yuki narrowed his eyes at Shigure's gleaming ones. He remembered how his eyes felt tired and heavy under the roof of the Sohmas. He remembered how his lungs would feel weak and shaky, how his throat would feel parched, and his legs would burn with the journey of just waking up each day knowing he was still in the same place. He remembered Shigure's offer to allow him to move in with him, gulping down waters from the oasis he provided and yet he was still thirsty, still tired, still aching.

Now he could feel the water in his stomach turn to swampy slime. Feel the walls melting like ice, smoke coiled around him like a snake, and Shigure's eyes watching as Yuki drowned in the sand where he once thought his salvation rested.

Yuki took another drag of his cigarette to try and prove his indifference to this information, but he could see in Shigure's houndish eyes that either he knew or he didn't care. Yuki couldn't tell which made him feel smaller.

"This curse of ours, Yuki, you should try and see the brighter side."

Silence fell again on the two men, and Yuki balled his fist under the table. The atmosphere that felt as heavy as a soaked rag only broken by the opening of an upstairs door and rough, loud footsteps clobbering down the stairs. Yuki tensed and immediately put out the unfinished cigarette. Shigure's eyes sparked.

"Ah, the dulcet tones of Tohru's soft, and gentle steps," Shigure said brightly and Yuki gave him a desperate look as Kyo entered the room. "Why, Tohru, you're looking a bit manish this evening."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Kyo said swatting at the air full of tobacco. "Damn, it smells like shit down here, how do you even put that stuff in your lungs?" Kyo directed towards Shigure as he stormed into the kitchen.

"How indeed," Shigure redirected his gaze to Yuki whose shoulders were tensed and his eyes trained on the table before him.

Yuki and Shigure waited in silence as they listened to the faucet run and Kyo gulp down a glass of water before walking through the room again on heavy steps.

"Goodnight, Kyo!"

"Yeah, yeah," Kyo responded heading back up the stairs.

Shigure stood, giving an exaggerated stretch, his playful and whimsical expression settling back onto his sharpened features. "I think I'll head to bed too. But as always I do enjoy these little midnight chats. A shame we don't get to have them as often anymore with the extra company. Still, small sacrifices must be made in exchange for housing such interesting characters. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I think I'll live without your constant late night chattering," Yuki said, though not moving from his spot.

"Oh Yuki, you wound me," Shigure said with a dramatized voice. "Go ahead and keep those notes, by the way. I think you might like some of what you find," Shigure said, gathering the papers again and placing them back in the folder. "Considering where I found it all in the first place."

Yuki looked down at the folder, laying carelessly next to the smoking ash tray on the hardwood table. His eyes glanced back up to Shigure.

"Goodnight," Yuki said with an edge of finality in his voice and Shigure laughed again as he headed down the hall to his room in his tobacco soaked robe.

"Yuki," Shigure called over his shoulder, pausing his steps halfway down the hallway. Yuki looked at his back with his features chiseled in a glare. "I know you enjoy playing house as much as I do, but let's not get too carried away, shall we?" Yuki gulped, his fingernails digging into the skin of his palm as he watched the smoke that came from his cigarette fade in and out like the structure of his own mirage.

"Goodnight, Yuki," Shigure didn't even turn around as he closed the door to his room behind him softly.

Yuki drowned in the empty space, unable to break eye contact with the papers that taunted him ruthlessly.

He sat, back against the wall, lungs filling themselves with tobacco, and soft summer breezes tickling the leaves outside. The house was dark, only the faded moonlight and the stars that reluctantly peaked out from behind the menacing gray clouds. He could feel his fingertips soaking in the smell of cigarette smoke and something in him twisted guiltily.

I bought these cigarettes.

Yuki stared at the table, water-ringed and chipped in the most meaningless of places.

I bought this table.

He stared at the doors that contained patch after patch of silly shapes and characters. He stared at the sloppy glue that jutted out from the cracked wooden frames.

Those doors you and Kyon like to smash up.

He felt as though he was sinking into the floor, creaking with the house as the walls consumed him mercilessly. His ears picking up the sounds of Kyo's restless form trying to tumble into sleep above him. He took another deep drag.

I bought this house.

And invited three darling children to live with me.

Yuki shoved the heel of his hand into his eye, trying to prevent the oncoming migraine that would surely make his senses feel even more claustrophobic.

"I already knew that," Yuki mumbled to himself. Somehow the words didn't comfort him. He eyed the folder on the table and crushed his cigarette onto the ash tray that sat so innocently next to it.

"Let's not get carried away," he repeated to himself with an exhausted snarl. With that, he opened the folder and removed the first page.