Author: syaoran no hime PM
Tohru loses her memory due to an accident and suddenly finds herself with a beautiful but cold man who claims to be her husband. Without her memory, she must believe him. That he will take care of her...protect her. Love, though, is too much to ask of himRated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Mystery - Hatori S. & Tohru H. - Chapters: 7 - Words: 12,430 - Reviews: 123 - Favs: 51 - Follows: 8 - Updated: 05-10-03 - Published: 04-27-03 - Status: Complete - id: 1324469
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I decided to postpone For Keeps again two more times to give way to some sudden brainstorms…and they are NOT Yukiru. *Gasps from the audience*
One is Uo-Kyo project…the other one is this.
The rating in this fic would depend whether I would like to still write the lemon scene I have in mind, and in this case, this is my first time to write a lemon.
On with the story!
A girl screamed and instantly buried her head on the chest of the boy beside her. Everyone else in the runaway bus were screaming, uttering prayers, crying…
"I don't want to die yet!" screamed one elder man before jumping off the bus that suddenly lost its brakes.
She watched in horror as the old man landed on the road, rolling on the asphalt. She didn't know anymore what became of the passenger because her attention was caught by the loud screeching of useless brakes, the honks of the ten-wheeler ahead of them, and the unison cries of horror of the passengers.
Then she felt herself lurched forward violently as sound of glasses shattered and anguished cries in great pain filled the whole bus.
"Honda Tohru-kun," prompted a cold, male voice.
Tohru opened her eyes weakly, and found herself looking at an unfamiliar face. His one eye partially covered with his forbidding bangs, the other disinterestedly looking at her. His perfectly-sculptured nose that matched the authoritarian features of his face – from the creased forehead to the strong jaw.
He was very tall and broad-shouldered, as evident by the way his long white coat hugged his body.
But who was he?
"Honda Tohru-kun," he said again.
Honda Tohru? Who was Honda Tohru? Was he talking to her?
"I don't…remember," she heard herself saying feebly.
"I see." He got up and reached for the glass of water on the nearby table. "This will help."
She reached for the glass of water with trembling hands, but she felt that even her fingers lacked strength. The glass slipped down from her grip helplessly and broke into tiny little pieces.
The sound triggered something in her. Suddenly, she hugged her head and shut her eyes, trying to make the aching in her temples go away. She screamed involuntarily, but even with her eyes shut, she could see that even darkness was crimson red. The color of blood.
A firm hand patted her shoulder. "That will be enough," ordered the same male voice authoritatively.
She was still not pacified, but then, she felt him grip her wrist tightly. Something painful jolted through her nerves, and she opened her eyes.
The man had injected something in her. Alarm bells rung again in her mind. What did he do to me?
He read her mind. "Tranquilizer. It will calm you down."
True to his words, panic began to dissolve within her.
"My name is Sohma Hatori," he began to speak again as he swept the broken pieces of glass on the floor. "I am a doctor, so you should not be scared of me." He glanced at her. "Do you remember me?"
She gulped inwardly. A faraway memory – but she couldn't reach it.
"I take that as a no." He placed the litter on the trash can. "I will refresh your memory. I am your husband."
"H-Husband?" The word struck deep within her. She recognized that word – it was a binding word. But it sounded so out of place. Within her was a part disagreeing with the so-called truth of the doctor.
But I have no choice. He is the only one who remembers me. He must know everything about me.
She reached for her forehead and felt bandages. She looked at the doctor inquiringly.
"You met an accident," he said simply.
"A-Accident…" she echoed. Turmoil of emotions filled her once again.
"You don't have to remember," he said, suddenly beside her. He offered her another glass of water, but he didn't let her hold the glass. He assisted her in drinking. "At least, not yet."
When she felt the sweet liquid trickle down her parched throat, she felt much calmer.
"I will cook us some dinner in an hour. For the meantime, you must go to sleep. Take your rest," he said.
"W-Why should I take my rest? Where have I been?" she asked.
He chose not to reply anymore.
"T-Tell me!" she yelled frantically.
"Nowhere," he said calmly.
She felt disagreement again. The shattered glass? The crimson blood?
"Nowhere," he repeated more firmly.
She had no choice but to believe.
Hatori glanced at the sleeping girl beside her, then turned back to the newspaper he was reading. His eyes were focused on the front page news. About the collision of a ten-wheeler truck and a passenger bus in the highway.
He looked at the list of the fatalities, then checked the rest of the news if there was something mentioned about a missing passenger. None was mentioned. He sighed, relieved.
He folded the broad sheet and placed it under the cabinet, covered by bandages and other medicine items.
Tohru woke up again, this time because of the dreamy aroma of food. She felt her stomach ache. She felt that she had not eaten yet for days.
The man was beside her again, but this time, his white doctor coat was no more. On its place was a homely light blue apron. His long white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His face was less formal, but the aura of authority still surrounds him.
She looked at the tray he was holding. A bowl of chicken soup, a glass of orange juice, and some pills.
"Soft food only," he said, almost apologetic. "Perhaps in a few more days, you can go back to your regular menu."
He looked less intimidating, and she felt that she had to smile. "Thank you."
He paused, then the defensive look returned in his eyes. "It's my duty. As your husband."
That word again.
He sat down beside her and began to feed her. He blew lightly on the soup before spooning it to her.
She accepted each spoon mechanically, because she was too busy thinking. Thinking about the shattered glasses, the blood, the screams.
Her eyes went on the man before her. Her husband.
"What is it?" he asked.
"N-Nothing." Her eyes went down on the soup.
She wanted to know the answers, and it seems that only this man holds all of them.
But she couldn't help but feel that he was keeping a part of the truth from her.
I must know.