Disclaimer: No, I don't own Fruits Basket. (I wish)

A/N: I'm sort of throwing this out there on a whim, haha. If you like, please review or follow or favorite or something, loll. Especially the review bit, cuz I haven't really decided yet if I'll keep posting this, so if you find it interesting in the slightest or have suggestions, please let me know.

Yuki has known Murasaki Kaname since the moment he stepped onto the campus of their school.

In his freshman year, Murasaki was the first person who talked to him, and it is a memory that, despite its triviality, has stuck with him.

He remembers how her hair was still short that day, a cute bob of jet-black hair, unusually wavy and fine. He remembers that bob of hair bowing down to pick up a notebook and a pen that Yuki had dropped, only for him to reach it first. He got the notebook.

And she handed him the pen, a face of smiles and curled lashes and pink lipgloss.

"Well, I'm glad I could help with one of them," she had laughed, before disappearing into the crowds of students making their way into the auditorium.

~.~

He'd made a speech that day. The typical, inescapable duty of the top ranking freshman. Years of wanting to fit in, to be normal, and he was already starting off the year being "that kid".

~.~

And then he saw her again. In class.

Sitting next to him in class. With her smiles and lipgloss.

Perhaps they weren't friends then, but they already had an inkling that they would be.

~.~

The same thing happened in student council, at their first meeting.

He arrived to the meeting room only to already see her and a few other senior officers there, and she waved emphatically, as if relieved to no longer be the only first year in the room.

Or perhaps she had actually been happy to see him.

He would never know.

~.~

They were never the kinds of friends to hang out. No shared lunchtime desk-connecting. None of the afterschool cafe-runs or summertime beach hangouts with big groups of friends. No, their friendship consisted of always having a seat saved in the meeting. Of always taking that saved seat. Of silent understanding and schedule reminders and shared class notes. When Murasaki had once forgotten her English textbook, they shared his. When he'd lost his favorite pen on a test day, she handed him hers.

Not a spare. Her favorite.

"I have others," she had said.

In response, when she had lost her favorite eraser, he gifted his.

"I have others," he had echoed, and she smiled.

By then she had lost the lipgloss and opted for straighter lashes.

Actually, Murasaki has changed a lot in Yuki's memory. Over the months which became years of sharing a class, he saw her initial short hair become a waterfall of raven locks. He watched her smiles become less energetic and more familiar. He watched the way in winter, when she had been falling asleep in math more and eating in student council meetings less, her cheekbones begin to push at her skin in their sharpness, her skin turn dull and pale and obviously sick, and when finally he had worked up the courage to ask if she was eating and sleeping enough, she had laughed and said "I'm managing."

He heard, later, from some girls in class, that it was the anniversary of her older sister's death. A suicide, apparently.

By then, Yuki was already living with Tohru.

"Yuki-san! It's good to see you! Is Tohru home?"

Murasaki Kaname is at his front door.

"She's in the kitchen. Would you like to come in?" he asks, opening their door, but she waves her hand- her nails are short, he notices, and he wonders how long that was a detail that he'd missed- before holding out a notebook. Tohru's, Yuki notices.

"If you wouldn't mind, could you get this to her when you have a moment?"

"Sure. English again?"

"Always English," Murasaki smiles, and for the first time in the conversation, Yuki feels he can breathe a sigh of relief. He is always nervous when she visits, but somehow, she always manages to put his mind at ease.

They have always shared something. What that something is remains to be seen, but for now at least, they share being Tohru's regular tutors.

"How is she doing?" Yuki asks, looking down at the notebook.

"Better," Murasaki murmurs thoughtfully. "She works so hard."

"How are you doing?"

The question is out of Yuki's mouth before he has a chance to think about it, and he immediately kicks himself.

She looks surprised, but takes the question in stride, to her credit.

"Better," she says, laughing. "How are you? You seem better, but I can never be sure with you."

It is his turn to be surprised.

"I'm… I'm alright, thank you for your concern."

She smiles, her energetic smile, but for some reason it seems more aimed at the notebook than at him. Like she doesn't really want to look him in the eye.

"Alright, well, I'll stop intruding and let you get on with your day. Have a great weekend!" she chirps, before skipping her way down their patio steps and back into the forest trail, her long ponytail swishing back and forth like a cheerful wave goodbye.

He's not sure why, but Yuki almost feels he owes her an apology.

Murasaki Kaname has known Yuki Soma since the moment she stepped onto the campus of their school.

After an escape from a Tokyo private academy specializing in music conservatory classes, a school where she was lauded as the "genius" pianist, it was a refreshing escape to no longer be in the city and to no longer be the center of attention.

There had already been buzz amongst the girls, about a beautiful first-year boy who looked like a prince, but it wasn't until Murasaki instinctively stooped down to help someone pick up their pen that she actually believed the rumors.

She looked up to find herself face to face with the high cheekbones, delicate features, and shimmering eyes of first-year royalty. Murasaki was immediately aware of the situation.

"Well, I'm glad I could help with one of them," she laughed, handing him his pen, before escaping into the crowds of students.

~.~

When Yuki Soma was called up to make the opening ceremony speech for the first years, her heart ached for him.

This boy was bound to a year of loneliness and solitude if things went on as they had been.

She was correct.

~.~

Murasaki never truly considered herself good friends with Yuki, but she could certainly say he was probably closer to her than any of their other classmates. Their friendship consisted of her smiling energetically and occasionally asking him when student council meetings were. She always saved a seat for him if she arrived early (which she often did, as she had been trained to do), and after the first few weeks of meetings, he began to do the same.

They shared textbooks where it was needed. (That was rare, but the instances occurred occasionally).

At one point, in a rare moment of panic, he had asked her frantically for a pen right before test day, and she had given him hers without a second thought. It made her wonder when he had become such a soft spot of fondness, but she didn't mind the vulnerability. The vulnerability was proof she was human, and that, if anything, was a success in comparison to what had happened last year.

~.~

But the vulnerability of being able to feel again did have its consequences. Especially last winter.

By then, she had let go of some of the things she'd tried at the beginning of her escape. The lipgloss was forgotten, it was uncomfortable anyway, and the lashes took too long in the morning. She had met Tohru and become an honorary member of their lunch group, even being "invited" (read: accidentally being dragged along by Uou and Hana) to the Soma house when Tohru confessed that she'd begun living there.

After that visit, Murasaki tried to stay away from the house as much as possible, only visiting when necessary for school and tutoring related exchanges. She never entered the house, even when invited in for a cup of tea.

She felt like she was intruding on some safe space of theirs.

~.~

But then it was December.

The ghosts of recital season began to haunt her.

Murasaki suddenly had the urge to practice. She began to garner odd looks when she wore gloves to school, often even wearing them to class. She was certain Yuki noticed, but to his credit he didn't mention anything. After all, their classroom could get a little chilly in the winter.

And then, one day in mid-December, she arrived home to her apartment to find an upright piano waiting for her, a small card sitting atop the keyboard cover.

"An early Christmas gift. We noticed you didn't have one yet," it read.

From her parents, no doubt. They were still holding onto the hope that she'd reconsider quitting.

Never.

She threw the red-velvet cloth cover over the piano and pushed it into the unused storage room, as far away from her sight as she could manage in the apartment.

~.~

Murasaki doesn't remember much of that winter. What she does remember is how little she ate and how little she slept. How many hours she spent sitting at that stupid piano in the storage room, unable to open the lid and confront the thing that had killed her older sister.

Not the piano but their love of it.

Their mutual, equal love, but their starkly unequal talent. And the pressure.

Murasaki vividly remembers middle school at the academy like one might right vividly remember a nightmare.

She remembers waking up from that nightmare in spring.

The same nightmare, the one she's had since the day she walked into her sister's bedroom only to find the worst possible outcome had come to pass.

Waking up for the third term of their year was like coming out of hibernation.

~.~

When she emerged, the girls were glad to see her eating at lunch again. Tohru expressed concern, and Murasaki was surprised to find that Uou and Hana were equally glad that the newest edition to the friend group was feeling and looking better.

The beginning of the third term settled back into routine, with the new edition of Murasaki doubling as Tohru's English tutor along with Yuki.

"Alright, well, I'll stop intruding and let you get on with your day. Have a great weekend!"

Now, she is escaping the Soma residence before she can be tempted to join them for tea, jogging her way down their patio steps, Yuki's surprised expression fresh in her mind.

Even princes need friends, she would know better than anyone.

If he'd only let her in.