Disclaimer: Fruits Basket belongs to Natsuki Takaya.
If you wanted to be technical, this fic could be neatly inserted into Chapter 13, volume 3. But it doesn't need a timeframe, except that I'm strange like that and need a specific niche for stories...
Lost
Chirin, chirin…
With New Year's passed and the holiday nearly over, the crowds dwindled and abandoned the mad rush of daily life. He steered his bicycle far more easily over sidewalks and streets, and no one forced him down less-populated byways. He was free to choose any path he fancied.
Traces of frost still clung to windowpanes. Resisting the heat of just-opened stores, they glittered in passing from the weak winter sun. People sat, or stood, or walked in all directions, huddling in their heavy coats; the sight surrounded him with a myriad of colors.
He rode slowly, savoring the scenery. Besides, if he pedaled too quickly, the brisk morning air became freezing cold, and it made his eyes water. A leisurely pace was wise indeed.
This street, he realized, looked rather familiar. A mystery… but it was a charming place. It lacked the tall, narrow buildings all crowded very tightly against one another, draping their signs in the air over his head to compete for his attention.
A young woman on the sidewalk contemplated the rider for a moment before stepping closer, calling out to him, "Excuse me, sir?"
He stopped obediently, and her smile, while hesitant, radiated sincerity. "Excuse me, sir, but are you lost?"
Quietly, he pondered this. If he was lost, then he would not know where he was, but he was well aware that he was here. He also recalled that he had come from the main Souma estate, and that he was heading for Sensei's house. Mistaking the silence for his answer, she continued.
"It's just that you've been down this street three times now… I'm very sorry for bothering you…"
"I'm not lost." She made a startled noise, and he leaned to the side to glance past her head. "I'm on Bara Street," he then turned to the storefronts, "at the bookshop."
Her nose and cheeks, already pink with the cold, flushed further. "Ah. I'm sorry. Have a nice trip…"
The little bell on the handlebars chimed brightly as he rode away.
Lost? No, Souma Hatsuharu was never lost.
Where on earth would he be able to misplace himself, anyway? Haru was in the present. Always, he lived in the present moment, at the present location. Where else could he be?
He could not possibly be lost, he rationalized, if he knew where he had started. And he could not possibly be lost, he ascertained, if he knew where he was destined to arrive eventually.
If pressed, he would concede that he did not know exactly how he would travel from point A to point B, or what he might encounter on the way; after all, the whole world lay in between them. What use was there for a line to inform him of his precise position relative to his destination? Would that improve his journey? Would that magically solve or prevent all the surprises and uncertainties life enjoyed throwing at its unsuspecting travelers?
Maybe. But maybe not.
He possessed no maps, no directions, either in his head or on paper. But the trip would be so boring if he knew the smallest and most intricate details beforehand. Who memorizes and analyzes every second of their life, past and future, to dictate the present moment?
Mystery… is that not what makes any journey worthwhile? If there is never anything new to discover, then where is the surprise, where is the excitement in living?
Drifting in a haze of the unknown, with no goals to aim for and no idea where to begin—that would characterize the lost.
No matter what people said, Haru was not lost. He knew where he stood.
People have all the time in the world to get where they are going. All that is truly important is to make the most of the journey there.
…
Owari
…
-Windswift