Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Custody ❯ In front of the graves ( Chapter 9 )

Another quick note: I have no idea at all about the maiden name of Momiji's mother, so I just made it up, as well as Grandma's name. Another thing. I realized that I never bothered to write a disclaimer, but honestly, who would believe that I own Fruits Basket? Anyway, so that you know, I don't own it. There you have it. Sorry for taking so long to update.

 

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Momo finally looked up to his face. This was the first chance she had to see him so close. There were so many emotions lurking in those eternally sad eyes of his! The first thing she noticed was that they were exactly the same color as her mother's: a very rare shade of brownish gold, with some specks of blue scattered near the center. They were also slightly more slanted than her own, which gave them an exotic appearance. She had never noticed that before. His eyes were kind, just as she remembered, and somehow she knew for sure that he cared for her. They looked old, as if he had experienced more sorrow in his twenty two years than most people in a whole lifetime.

 

She noticed the lone tear trailing down his cheek, and she wiped it away with her index finger. `Is he crying for me?' The thought hurt her deeply, though she couldn't explain to herself why. Suddenly, she felt the urge to protect him, to comfort him.

 

Without a word, she touched the tip of his freckled nose with the tip of her finger. Recognition crossed his eyes and he immediately imitated her with a chuckle. His eyes lit up with a new emotion that she could only describe as joy.

 

They both still remembered.

 

Brigitta couldn't take her eyes off the stranger that was hugging her granddaughter at that moment. When she turned to Momo to tell her to go back home, he was there already. She didn't see him coming. She had been positive that she knew every single relative that had come to the funeral today, and she didn't recognize him at all. However, he looked too much like a Haas to not to be a relative. He even reminded her of someone she had seen in one of those old pictures that she kept of her ancestors. She just couldn't place him anywhere in the family.

 

By the way the rest of said family still present stared at him; most of them were having the same problem as she.

 

Momo and the young man, however, were oblivious to the stares and whispering around them. To anyone, it was obvious that they were really close, though none of them had seen him ever before. Someone pointed out the fact that they looked a lot alike, but then again, wasn't Momo an only child? Though curiosity was eating at them, no one dared to approach the couple. Momo's grandmother was the first to walk to them.

 

-“Momo dear?” asked the old woman hesitantly. She didn't know what else to say. Momo turned to her and the stranger finally let go of the girl. Brigitta could tell that he was just as curious as to who she was as she was about him. Now that she was closer, she couldn't help but to stare. The only word she could think of to describe him was `beautiful'. He had a kind of beauty that seemed ethereal. Who exactly was he?

 

Momo looked at her and smiled for the first time since the death of her parents. The man finally spoke to her in German.

 

-“Good morning. My name is Momiji Souma. Pleased to meet you” - he said. He then bowed with such natural grace and elegance that she was speechless. His smile reminded her of someone, but she couldn't place that either. He spoke clearly, but slowly, and he had an accent that she recognized immediately as the same that her son in-law could never overcome, even after years living in Germany.

 

-“Souma?” -now she was totally lost. He was a Souma?

 

-“Yes, grandmother, he is Momiji. My cousin. Remember I told you about him when I got here?
About how much I missed him?” -and then she turned to Momiji, a question just occurring to her “You came all the way from Japan?”

 

Momiji flinched inwardly at being called “cousin”, but he didn't show it. It took him a few seconds to catch up on what Momo just said before he answered.

 

-“Yes. I'm sorry I couldn't make it on time.”-he sounded really sorry.

 

-“Don't worry. The important thing is that you are finally here.” -Momo hugged him once more, and Brigitta could tell by the way he stood that he was uncomfortable with the public display of affection, or was it that he didn't like physical contact? She remembered that Momo's father was like that, so she assumed that it must be a cultural thing. His face, however, and specially his eyes, told her of how deeply he cared about Momo, and that melted her wariness of him.

 

-“Momo.” -Brigitta finally said. -“It's freezing! Let's go home. We can continue this conversation there.” -She then spoke to Momiji. “You are welcome to come, of course.”

 

-“I'd love to! I came with a friend though. Is it okay if she comes over too?” -Momiji asked hesitantly.

 

-“Of course” -answered Brigitta with a little smile.

 

Just when Momo was about to ask who the friend was, she noticed a young woman standing a few steps away, a bouquet of flowers in her arms.

 

-“Tohru? Is that really you?” -asked Momo in German.

 

-“Momo-chan” -She said. Though she had been standing there for a few minutes now she didn't have a clue on what they were talking about. She could read every single emotion that crossed Momiji's face and eyes, though, and apparently Momo was happy to see him too. It never ceased to amaze her how much they were alike. By the way the people around looked at them, they noticed it too. Tohru smiled.

 

-“Tohru was so kind to join me in this travel. You know she's my best friend, so when I told her the reason why I was coming, she decided to accompany me.” - Momiji called Tohru in Japanese, and the girl joined the little group, standing at Momiji's side. Momo gave her a tight hug as she struggled to tell her how glad she was to see her again in broken Japanese. Momiji noticed, but chose to ignore it for the time being. Instead, he explained to Tohru about the invitation to Momo's house. Tohru smiled shyly, and she glanced around nervously before finally nodding. She felt like she was being scrutinized by everybody there.

 

Momiji looked around for the source of his friends' discomfort, and he proudly realized that people were talking about the gorgeous young woman standing next to him. He didn't like the way the men were ogling at her like a pack of hungry wolves, though. A rush of possessiveness made him do something that he never dared before: he put his arm over her shoulders as they started to walk. Tohru shot him a surprised look, but said nothing about it. Her smile was enough to make him know that she was okay with it.

 

As they passed before the graves, Momiji stopped. Before he could say a word, Tohru gave him the flowers. She bowed quietly to both of them and started to walk away with Grandma to allow the siblings some privacy. Momiji knelt on one knee in front of his parents' graves. At his questioning look, Momo made a gesture with her hand as she pointed at each one in turn: “Papa” to the left one and “Mama” to the one on the right.

 

Momiji unwrapped the stems of the flowers to reveal two small bouquets instead of one. They weren't exactly the kind flowers he would've liked, but rather the only ones he could find at that time of the year and under the current weather conditions. As he laid them on each of the graves, he softly whispered “Papa” and “Mutti” so low that Momo didn't hear.

 

He always believed that when this day came he would feel torn and distraught, but as he stood up in front of the graves of his parents he realized that he didn't care anymore. He overcame the angst, the loneliness, the hurt, the anger and all the overwhelming feelings that had tormented him over the years until they became nothing.

 

He had lost all of his feelings for them. It was a startling revelation.

 

He bowed to the graves before turning his back to the past that they represented and started to walk in the direction of Tohru and Momo.

 

He knew what he had to do now, and he was not giving it up this time.