I do not own Fruits Basket or any of the characters. This is just a one-shot that popped into my head.

OooOooO

He had been a raging fire. Disastrous, catastrophic, consuming. His blood boiled for revenge, though his vengeance was a thing that was twisted and warped; an excuse. He loathed himself and could have nothing more to say for himself other then "I wish I were dead." He needed something else to hate, lest his consuming fire devoured his entirety.

So in a cowardly act of self preservation, he hated Yuki, a person who he had otherwise no other reason to hate, save for being the mouse. It was pathetic, it was sad, but it was the only way he could possibly lift his head. Fires, it seemed, had a way of having to destroy something in order to feel whole.

He was Souma Kyo: Irreparably Damaged.

Or so he thought. Irreparably damaged meant just that: Damage irreparable. Permanent. Beyond repair. Irreversible. Severe. Lasting. Undeviating. Unalterable. Antonyms: Temporary. Brief. Passing. Fleeting. But he came back, back to the light. So not so irreparably damaged after all.

She was spring. She should have been fearful of his raging fire, or at the very lest wary. He could hurt her, snap her in two. Fires were what destroyed beauty like herself, and she should have known this. Not that he would ever hurt her, not after already irreparably damaging her before. But she didn't know that and still she as spring risked being burned for something so devouring as him.

"I come upon the wings of doves

You know my name; it is love

I am the stars inside your night

And for you, love, I'd stay a burning light

I come in many shapes and forms

But I am here throughout your storms

I am here to catch the tears you cry

I am the wings with which you fly

I am the song that sings you to sleep

And my heart you know you keep

Kyo, you are the other half of me

Forever, throughout eternity"

It was a poem that she wrote to him. He was old now, a fire gone out. A mere spark where once he was a flame. He regretted none of this, for she was a healing wave, a rain that put him out leaving nothing but a charred and broken body. He loved her, that beautiful thing called spring, when he was nothing but an ugly broken thing.

And she loved him back regardless. They had grown old together and she was gone now, leaving him. He knew in his heart he wouldn't last much longer without her. She was as she had put it: The other half of him. A half was worthless without the other, and he too was lost without her.

When young, he was so quick to burn, so quick to burn himself out. She was so quick to come to his aid. He was once in such a dark place. His anger was his light. She put a smile on his face. She gave him another life, one with a happy marriage and child.

And he was gone a week after her. Two graves, a put out inferno and the wave that put it out. Together forever.

OooOooO

Short one-shot. Please leave a review.