1It was hard to maintain a positive attitude and stay grateful on days where it seemed like life was out to get her. While Tohru Honda prided herself on being an optimist, some days challenged that very belief. Today was one where everything just seemed to stack up against her.
Tohru always made an effort to see the good in every situation life threw her way, even if she couldn't see the good immediately. And she had certainly been dealt her fair share of obstacles. She regarded every challenge as a step to get to her life today, a life for which she was eternally grateful. She refused to take any part of her life for granted and spent the majority of her time counting her blessings and holding them near and dear to her heart.
In truth, the handful of small nuisances she had to deal with today were annoying, but irrelevant. It was the culmination of several frustrating events that ruined the day. Waking up in the middle of the night to discover that the heat was out in their building again started it all. She grabbed an extra blanket and snuggled in close to Kyo, her boyfriend, whose body always seemed to radiate a degree of warmth higher than that of a typical human. She finally succumbed to sleep again, despite the chill from the frigid January air outside, only to oversleep well beyond when she should have gotten up.
She vaguely remembered Kyo gently trying to nudge her out of her sleep twice that morning before he finally grabbed her shoulders and forced her to sit upright for fear that she would be late to work. She had always been such a heavy sleeper and she stumbled through her morning routine, not quite ready to wake up. In an attempt to rouse herself even more, she poured herself a cup of hot tea in the kitchen, only to have her teacup overflow, splashing hot water onto her hands.
Once she finally made it out of the door, kissing Kyo goodbye on her way out, she braced the frigid air on her quick walk to work, remembering, as she arrived, that it was a Tuesday. On Tuesdays, she was supposed to be at work thirty minutes earlier than usual to attend the weekly staff meeting.
Since they'd moved away from their hometown, Tohru found work at a local primary school as a teacher's assistant. She mainly helped the students do their classwork, supervised them during lunch and free time, and assisted with the clerical work around the building. She loved the job, even if she didn't entirely get along with the teacher with whom she worked. While Tohru's happy-go-lucky and optimistic demeanor seemed to charm most of the people she met, she had known quite a few in her life who didn't find it appealing. And when she was assigned to work in Shimizu-san's class for that year, she knew instantly Shimizu was not going to be charmed by Tohru whatsoever.
It had been three years now that Tohru had been working in that school. Her first two years, she was paired with a wonderful woman, who reminded her fondly of her grandfather. The teacher, Mei, was kind and patient with all of the students. She inspired Tohru and the two women enjoyed working together. She was one of Tohru's first friends in their new city and Tohru would often find herself inviting Mei over for dinners or joining Mei at her house for a cup of tea after school. When she retired and moved away, Tohru felt her loss greatly. And when she began to work with Shimizu, the feeling of loss only grew deeper.
Shimizu was a good teacher, Tohru acknowledged that above all else. But Shimizu was also strict and quick to discipline her students. She did not appreciate Tohru jumping to the kids' defenses or trying to make light of situations. And she particularly did not seem to enjoy Tohru's occasional mistakes. Tohru was scolded often, especially in the first few weeks working with Shimizu, for misplacing things, attempting to help the students with their work in a way that was not consistent, or occasionally zoning out while sitting in the classroom. Some days it bothered Tohru, but mostly she tried to regard Shimizu with the same optimistic lens through which she saw the world.
Shimizu often called Tohru 'careless' and 'simple.' It certainly wasn't the first time she'd been labeled with such words in her life. In fact, it seemed, at some point or another, every one with whom she maintained a relationship had pointed it out. It didn't really bother her. She was well aware that she was an airhead and, oftentimes, the people in her life used such phrases as terms of endearment.
She walked into the school building, just as everyone was leaving the faculty room, a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. She was certain she would get reprimanded by Shimizu for her forgetfulness. Tohru was already chastising herself for being so careless as she walked into the classroom.
She practically ran out of work that afternoon, trying to fight back the tears that she had been holding in all day. While she walked, the words Shimizu had told her at the end of the day echoed in her mind. 'If you continue to be so irresponsible and thoughtless, you'll never amount to anything.'
The words bit at her deepest insecurities. Being an 'airhead' could be cute. Being 'clumsy' was just one of her endearing qualities. But she hated being irresponsible. She hated being thoughtless. She especially hated letting people down and not living up to people's expectations. It was something that had plagued her since she was a little girl. She tried so hard to please people and do what she thought was right and just. And, whenever she found herself falling short of others' expectations, she was reminded how often she fell short of her own.
She was so caught up in thought that, while she was perusing the aisles in the grocery store looking for something to prepare for dinner, she bumped into a store worker who was stocking eggs. A half dozen eggs spilled out of the carton, exploding onto the floor. Tohru bent down on her hands and knees, profusely apologizing and attempting to pick up the shells and place them into her basket to help clean up.
"Miss," the store clerk said, clearly annoyed with her. "You're just making it worse."
Tohru scuttled away, abandoning the grocery store altogether and heading, as quickly as her feet could carry her, towards home. As she closed the door behind her, she sunk down to the floor, taking in deep breaths to calm herself down before she started crying.
"You're just making it worse."
"You'll never amount to anything."
Tohru shook the thoughts from her head, peeling off her shoes and heading to the bathroom to splash water on her face. The cool water helped, and she felt passable as normal. She changed out of her work clothes into a more comfortable outfit, choosing to don one of Kyo's sweatshirts over the top of her clothes to keep her warm even though the heat was back on in their apartment.
Just the feeling of the sweatshirt, heavy on her shoulders, comforted her. She was immediately enveloped in his warmth, even though he wasn't physically there. His presence always brought on a sense of peace and comfort for her, even back to when they had first met so many years ago. And though he wasn't in the room to give her a hug and make her feel better after such a miserable day, she could at least be comforted until he was home.
She took a moment to deeply inhale his scent and rub the soft, worn cuffs against her cheek before exiting the bedroom. In the kitchen, she pondered what to make for dinner, especially now that she had abandoned fresh groceries entirely. She mulled it over, hand poised on the refrigerator ready to open it, when the blinking light from the answering machine caught her attention.
A single message from Kyo announced that he would miss dinner that evening as he'd been asked to cover a fellow instructor's classes. Tohru frowned at the message, once again lifting the cuffs of the sweatshirt to her face to deeply inhale their scent. She could feel tears sting the backs of her eyes, disappointment seeping in now that she knew she wasn't spending the full evening with him. Before she could let a single tear fall, she shook her head, determined to try to have a nice evening, even if the rest of the day had been miserable.
As he stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn so he could cross, Kyo Sohma resisted the urge to hop up and down or break out into a full sprint to get home. The evening air was downright frigid, colder than it ever was where he grew up, the icy air rolling off the ocean just a few blocks away. It wasn't a long walk home from the dojo, but on nights where the temperature was below freezing, it felt like a marathon.
He could have sprinted home, but that would cause him to sweat, and he wouldn't dare to enter their home coated in sweat after walking in the winter evening. That would have sent Tohru into a panic, warning him against being sweaty in the cold air. As the light finally turned and he crossed the street, he chuckled to himself picturing her horrified expression if he actually did walk in sweaty. She would have immediately toweled him off, forcing him into a bath to warm up. She was always worrying about the silliest things. Any time he so much as coughed, he had to stop her from taking out the thermometer.
Her concern and blind resolve to nurture any living thing that came her way was one of her more endearing qualities, even if she often went about it all wrong. He had to admit that while he didn't always agree with her position on most things (he couldn't think of a single person who had ever caught a cold from being sweaty), he didn't mind being on the receiving end of her care. In fact, he preferred it.
On this particular evening, he was disappointed he wouldn't get to spend the full night with her. He didn't mind working and enjoyed teaching and mentoring the students in his classes. He also thoroughly enjoyed the training he was able to do every day. But every day, the second he finished everything he needed to at work, he was out the door, heading towards their apartment to spend every possible minute he could with her. He craved her presence constantly and, even though they lived together and spent practically all of their free time together, he missed her during the day.
Evidently, it was the same on her side, too. Several times per week, he found her sitting on the bench across the street from the dojo, reading a book or making a grocery list, waiting for him to be done with work simply so they could walk home together and have an extra five minutes together. And on the occasional day he had the afternoon off, he did the same for her.
It was rare that they had an evening apart. Occasionally, Tohru would make dinner plans with a coworker and be out for the evening, but he often went with her. On some days, like today, Kyo was asked to stay late and cover the evening classes at the dojo, and he missed dinner with her.
It was the dead of winter now, so the sun had gone down hours before Kyo finally was able to escape and walk home. Usually, when the weather was this cold, they would prepare a warm dinner together and eat it under the kotatsu before climbing into bed early. They would do various tasks like folding laundry or paying bills next to each other, hunkered down under the thick blankets to escape the chill of their drafty apartment. And every night, right before she went to sleep, she grabbed a worn, leather-bound journal from the side of the bed to write three blessings she had experienced that day. She usually shared them with Kyo before they turned off the light and succumbed to sleep.
The journal had entries dating back to when they were first years in high school. In fact, he had a smug sense of pride at how much more often his name was mentioned from when they were in high school than anyone else's. The lists were always very specific. She told him once, when he inquired about the specificity, that 'there are things I am grateful for all the time, but each day there are special and unique events I want to remember.'
She was specific almost to a fault. On one particularly mundane day last Spring, she listed 'cod' as something for which she was grateful. He teased her for that entry, asking if there was anything else she could have possibly been thankful for that day. The dinner she had made was delicious, certainly, but when Tohru insisted she 'couldn't have made it without the cod in the first place,' he couldn't help but laugh and hold her close. Leave it to her to count fish as a blessing.
Nothing in his mind represented Tohru more than that battered journal. She was the queen of kindness, gratitude, and optimism. She regarded every single day as a gift and her attitude was infectious. He couldn't do anything but be grateful when he was around her. She had a way of reminding him to appreciate all of the little gifts life had to offer-things he had spent years overlooking.
As he passed the bus stop in front of their building, he caught a glimpse of the time and made a mental note to be thankful that it wasn't too late in the evening. They could get at least an hour of alone time before they fell asleep. And, knowing her, she had finished all of the chores so they would be uninterrupted.
As he crossed the threshold to the apartment, he kicked off his shoes and called out for her. The apartment was quiet, a single light in the living room on. He passed the kitchen to find her asleep under the kotatsu, her face pressed against that very journal, an open pen poised next to her left hand. The date was neatly printed across the top of the page, but nothing was listed.
She was quite the adorable sight, her dark hair fanning across her pale cheeks. She was wearing one of his sweatshirts, the sleeves rolled up so that it could actually be functional for her to use. He didn't bother calling her name again, she was an impossibly heavy sleeper. Instead, he gently slid her out from under the heated blanket and carried her to their bed, leaving her to sit while he changed.
He quickly removed his dogi and slipped into loose running clothes. He went out to the living room to retrieve her journal and pen and turn off the light. When he returned to the bedroom, she was more coherent, vigorously rubbing her eyes in an attempt to wake herself up more.
"Welcome home," she said, offering him a smile. He studied her. She had dark circles under her eyes, but he knew she hadn't slept well last night. There was a ribbed imprint in her cheek where she had pressed his sweatshirt against her face as she slept. But there was more underneath that suggested she was more than just tired.
She always wanted to hide her negative feelings. She was not only a positive person, but she was stubborn in her positivity. Whenever she was upset, instead of actually speaking up about it, she forced a smile. She tried her hardest to mask any negative feelings by going completely off the deep end of the opposite end of the spectrum. Even if she wasn't happy, she would be damned if she looked unhappy.
She blushed under his scrutiny, ducking her chin into the collar of the sweatshirt. He was right, something was bothering her. And she had likely wanted to avoid talking about it. He knew she had long figured out she couldn't hide her feelings from him, but it didn't stop her from trying. Now that they were living together, however, apart from family, she made a concerted effort to talk about the things that bothered her, not that there were many issues that truly got to her.
He also knew that she wasn't the type to come right out and say what was on her mind. Even though it drove him absolutely crazy, he'd learned that forcing it out of her didn't help the situation and was the most likely to produce tears. And the last thing he ever wanted to do was be the reason she cried.
So he said nothing, instead opting to sit next to her and wait as patiently as he possibly could for her to start talking.
Before she said anything, a single tear slipped down her cheek and her hands immediately flew to her face. She balled up her hands and pressed them to her eyes, bowing her head.
"I had a bad day," She whispered, her voice cracking. She sniffled and then leaned against his chest. Kyo, in turn, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rested his cheek against her head.
"Must have been bad if you're actually willing to admit it," Kyo noted. It was true, he couldn't ever remember her saying she'd had a 'bad day.' She would tell him about the challenging aspects of her day, but they were always cushioned by good stories as well. "What was so bad about it?"
Her shoulders trembled and she said, almost inaudibly, "I'm just so…" her voice trailed off before she sighed "useless."
Kyo grabbed her shoulders and forced her to sit upright and look at him. Her eyes were glassy and wet, her mouth set in a frown, and her brow furrowed. "You are not useless," he insisted. She cast her gaze downward and he lightly shook her, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Don't ever say that; it's just not true."
"I couldn't do anything right today," She said, shaking her head. "I hate it. I hate being unreliable."
Slowly, she recounted the day for him, initially omitting the comments that others had made about her. It was only at his persistence did she come right out and tell him about the two individuals who had said such hurtful things to her.
She was always so generous and thoughtful. She tried so hard to please people and to be helpful. To some, he could imagine it being overbearing, but to him it was just Tohru. She made mistakes; she was human after all. But when someone pointed out her shortcomings, it was like kicking the leg out from under a table. Her self-esteem clattered to the floor and, when forced to look at the mess around her, it was hard for her to overcome it.
He loved and cherished everything about her, even her flaws. Her kindness was both a source of pride and a source of frustration. Her persistence gained her friends and also got her in trouble occasionally. But he knew, above all, she tried so hard to be helpful and nurturing. So even when she did things that frustrated him, he knew she was doing so with only the best of intentions.
He hated the idea of anyone thinking negatively about her-he couldn't possibly imagine how anyone could. But he especially hated that she thought negatively of herself. She was so hard on herself and critical of even the most minor faults. He wanted so badly for her to see just how perfect she was, especially to him.
He chose to inquire deeper about what had happened at work. "So she got mad at you for forgetting what day it was?" He asked.
"Well, I mean," she began to explain. He listened as she rationalized the irrational reaction. "It was extremely careless of me. And very irresponsible."
He rolled his eyes. "It's not irresponsible at all!" He said, trying to stop himself from shouting. "So you missed a damn meeting. Who the hell cares?"
"It's an important part of my job," Tohru insisted.
"Did anyone else criticize you?" He asked. "Did your boss tell you that you were irresponsible?" She shook her head. "Exactly! Because it doesn't even matter. It's just a mistake. It could happen to anyone."
"I know, but…" She started.
"But nothing. If she wants to walk around all day with a stick up her ass, that's her prerogative. But she's wrong and you're perfect, so don't take anything she says to heart."
Tohru contemplated his response and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. She was quiet for a few seconds, and then she smiled.
"A stick up her…?" Tohru asked. Her eyes, though puffy from crying, were bemused.
"I don't know," he responded, grinning and covering his eyes. "All repressed and whatever. Like she's a damn puppet." Tohru giggled. "She's an idiot."
Tohru immediately opened her mouth to defend Shimizu, but Kyo held up his hand to stop her. "Tohru," he said. "If you keep defending her for being stupid, you're just going to keep getting hurt by her."
"I don't think she's trying to hurt me, I think she's trying to help me, maybe. So I can be a better person."
Kyo slumped his head. "Oh my God," he groaned. "You already are a better person. You're the best person."
She held her hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay." She smiled sweetly at him and kissed his cheek. He felt a faint blush spread across his cheeks. "Sorry for complaining." Kyo groaned again, pulling her into his chest. "And I'm sorry for apologizing for complaining."
She snuggled into his chest and rested there for a beat before springing upright. Kyo looked at her quizzically as she grabbed her journal and pen. "Now I have something to write," she said, uncapping the pen with her teeth. She rested back against him and wrote the single thing she was grateful for that day.
He blushed deeply as she wrote. "I thought you always wanted to be specific," he noted.
She smiled as she made the last stroke in his name. "If I was that specific, it would be too long a list." She finished the entry with a tiny heart and closed the book, setting it down on the side of the bed.
She stole another, sweet kiss from him and said "Thank you for making me feel better."
