Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Custody ❯ Grandmother ( Chapter 10 )

Momiji started to plan what he wanted to do ever since he and Tohru got in the plane and he had those many long hours with nothing to do but to sleep or to think. It was a welcome respite after all the rush and the hassle of the previous hours.

 

He knew exactly what he wanted now, but he didn't know which would be the best way to approach the situation. Was he going to tell Momo the truth about how they were related? What would she say? At first he thought that she would be delighted to know that he was her onii-chan for real, but now he wasn't so sure. How was he going to explain to her the reason why they were kept apart? He couldn't prove the curse to her anymore. He heard the way Momo struggled to speak in Japanese, and he didn't like that though he reluctantly admitted to himself that maybe she never had a chance. His own father taught him to speak German before he learned anything else, and even later, he rarely spoke to him in Japanese unless they were in front of others. It made sense to think that Momo had been taught the same way, and that maybe they had dropped the language entirely after they moved. That would explain Momo's poor language skills. He believed that it was just an indication of other major changes.

 

The problem with that was that maybe she wouldn't be as happy to move back to Japan with him as he originally thought. Besides, there was the unexpected presence of her grandmother. `Our grandmother', he rephrased in his mind with a smile at her through the rearview mirror. It was hard to believe that the woman driving the car at that moment and himself were related. He felt no connection with her, no call of the blood. It seemed to him that she didn't sense anything either. She was another unfamiliar face in this strange country. What if this woman wanted to keep Momo by her side now that she had lost her daughter? He frowned unconsciously at that.

 

He was going to offer Momo the option as soon as he had the chance, anyway. He just had to think of a way to tell her that would make her agree. He playfully considered kidnapping her, but the afterimage of a caged bunny made him think otherwise. Striped clothing never suited him well. He would look like a zebra instead of a rabbit!! He laughed at his own joke loud enough for everyone in the car to notice.

 

Momo and Tohru were trying to have a conversation about the trip when they heard Momiji laugh. Apparently, his inner monologue was far more interesting than what they were saying at that moment. They realized that he hadn't been paying attention to them. Momo decided to focus her whole attention on her onii-chan.

 

-“I can't believe that you're here!” -Momo seemed to have an obsession with touch. She couldn't keep her hands off Momiji. At first, he felt uncomfortable, but after the first few minutes he finally relaxed his body and started to enjoy the contact. Right now, Momo decided to seize his arm and hug it tightly.

 

-“I can't believe it either.” He put on the happy mask once again for Momo's benefit. It wouldn't help her at all if everybody around kept reminding her of her loss.

 

His first thought was to speak to Momo in their native language, but seeing the lost expression on their grandmother's face, he decided that it would be rude to the older woman. With an apologetic look to Tohru who just answered with an understanding smile, Momiji continued in German:

 

-“'I'm sorry that we meet again under these circumstances, but until your father's secretary called, I had no idea of where to find you.” -Recognition crossed Grandmother's eyes and she changed her posture slightly, an indication that she was listening intently to the conversation. Tohru relaxed and just admired the scenery.

 

-“You didn't know? But I sent the new address to you as soon as we got here!! I stopped writing because I never got a letter back from you, so I thought that you didn't want to know about me anymore.” -Momo was genuinely surprised, and Momiji believed her immediately. Their bond was still so strong that he just knew she was telling the truth.

 

-“I never received your letters.” -Momiji said quietly, without reproach. His voice had a subtle finality, though, that told Momo that they should continue the conversation when they were alone and free to talk about it.

 

Brigitta felt disconcerted. The young man sitting in the backseat with her granddaughter… he looked too much like someone from her family… but no, he clearly said that his family name was Souma… Momo was an only child, wasn't she? No. She wasn't. But how? That baby was dead. She never even got to see him, since he was born two months before time. She was still preparing for the trip when her heartbroken daughter called her to tell her the news. How old would he be now? Twenty? No. Twenty-two. She never even knew if the baby had a name… she must've been imagining things. What was she thinking? It was impossible…

 

Meanwhile, Momo snuggled up to Momiji and they continued in silence the rest of the way.

 

The house where the Soumas had lived surprised Momiji. The place was smaller than the one they had back in Japan, but after he entered, he found that the place had a rather cozy atmosphere about it. It must have been Momo's mother's touch. `Our mother's touch', he corrected himself again. It was the first time in years that he was invited to their house, too bad that they weren't there anymore. `No, he thought with a grimace, I'm in here because they're not.'

 

Brigitta excused herself and started lunch in the kitchen, while the young people stayed in the living room. Momiji wanted to talk with Momo seriously about topics other than school, graduation and, in between giggles from Tohru and Momo, boys. After they started on that particular rocky path, Momiji found himself excluded from the conversation, which he didn't really mind. He was enjoying the view of the two girls together from across the room.

 

His conscience, however, reminded him that it would be polite to offer some help in the kitchen and with just a little gesture that neither girl really paid attention to, he figured his way there.

 

`Our grandmother.' Momiji thought when he saw her slicing some vegetables for what he guessed would be a salad. She didn't look like her daughter at all, so he supposed that both Momo and him self got their looks from their grandfather.

 

She was beautiful, though. Her bright pale blue eyes, her hair that looked like platinum thanks to the abundance of white hairs intertwined with the few remaining blonde ones, her aristocratic air… Somehow, when he first looked at her, he knew that this woman had a strong spirit and fierce determination.

 

He sighed as he imagined what it would've been like to have her when he was little. Would she have taken care of him when his mother rejected him? Would she have stood up for her grandchild? Or would she have decided that he was just a `creature' to which she had no attachment at all? `I'll never know'

 

Brigitta felt his presence and recognized him even without looking up. He stood there for a few seconds doing what she guessed was studying her. When the silent analysis became uncomfortable, she looked up with a smile on her face that she only had whenever she felt nervous.

 

Momiji's eyes grew round with surprise. Brigitta didn't know why, but suddenly, the confident young man standing on the door looked like a scared child, like a cornered rabbit. He couldn't hold her gaze for more than a couple of seconds, and then he looked at one of the counters across the room and directly behind her. She noticed that he breathed deeply once, twice, before he finally looked up to her confused eyes.

 

-“How can I help?” -he asked with a smile.

 

Brigitta almost dropped the knife she was holding. She finally recognized that face, or rather, that smile. She left the knife on the table and walked to him without a word.

 

Once she stood before him, she held her hands out and asked hesitantly in a whisper:

 

-“Can I?” -He didn't understand what she meant, but he nodded his consent anyway.

 

He didn't know what was happening, only that their grandmother silently took his face in her hands and tilted it down so that she could see his eyes closely. He didn't pull back as he would've by now any other time. Instead, he looked at her eyes too, allowing her to read his own. Her eyes were wise, compassionate and loving. He knew right there that this woman would have fought for him, protected him from his own mother. He felt a pang of pain when he realized that he never had the chance to know this woman, of becoming his grandson.

 

-“How old are you?” -she asked. She hadn't taken her eyes off his the whole time. She still cradled his face in her hands.

 

-“Twenty-two.” -he replied in a calm voice. He didn't understand what was happening; he could only stand there while his grandmother saw into his soul for the first time.