As always, comments, constructive criticism, and praise, however faint, are all greatly desired and will be appreciated.

Fruits Basket belongs to Takaya Natsuki and Hakusensha; English-language versions by FUNimation (anime) and Tokyopop (manga). This piece of fiction is in no way approved or endorsed by any of the copyright holders.

Midori is my original character.

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Sohma Midori calmly surveyed her strawberry-covered feet with a good deal of satisfaction. It was mid-afternoon, and she'd just purposely walked through her mother's strawberry patch, crushing both berries and plants in her endeavor.

She lifted one foot up and wriggled her toes, feeling the cool squishiness, and imagining that she was wearing a pair of shoes made out of strawberries. The idea intrigued her, and she wondered if Aya-ojichan could find her a pair and bring them to her. If anyone would be able to find such an item, she was sure it would be him.

It suddenly occurred to her that she might get in trouble if she got caught, and she thought it might be prudent to go and swish her feet in the koi pond before her mother saw them. She had never been punished severely, so she had no real fear of her parents, but she did want to avoid being scolded and then made to sit in the "naughty chair".

However, the afternoon was warm, and since Mama didn't like the heat, she had gone inside to rest. There would be plenty of time for foot-washing later. Right now, Midori wanted to dance in her beautiful strawberry shoes like a princess, like a ballet dancer, and so she did, closing her eyes and twirling, until – wham! – she bumped into something, and there was Mama, looking very surprised indeed.

Mama looked down at Midori's feet, and then at the strawberry patch. She gasped, and said, "Midori!"

Midori looked down at her feet and said nothing.

"How did you … weren't you watching where you were going?"

Midori shrugged.

Mama then said, in a sterner, but still puzzled tone, "Was this an accident?"

Midori said, "Not 'zactly."

Mama picked Midori up, carried her over to the porch and sat her down. She knelt down in front of Midori, right on her eye level, and said, "I want to know what happened to my strawberries. And no 'creative storytelling'." "Creative storytelling" was what Papa called the stories that Midori frequently made up to account for her misdeeds.

Midori looked at Mama and said, "Well, can I 'skirt the issue'?"

Just last week Midori had repeatedly attempted to change the subject when Mama asked her, right before dinner, just what had happened to the last red bean bun. Papa had laughed and said "Midori is getting quite proficient at skirting the issue, isn't she, Akito?" Mama had replied, "Don't encourage her, Shigure," but had wiped the red bean jam off Midori's face and sent her to get washed up without another word.

Midori didn't know what an issue was, or why one would want to put a skirt on it, but the phrase had kept her out of trouble once and she thought it was worth a try.

Mama looked at her, bit her lip, and turned her head a little, and for a moment, Midori thought she was going to laugh. Mama, however, did not laugh. She turned back to Midori and said, in a no-nonsense tone, "No, you may not 'skirt the issue'. I want the truth. Now. Why did you step in my strawberries?"

Midori looked down at her feet, which were beginning to feel itchy and sticky and not beautiful at all, and said, "Because I wanted to."

Mama said, quite patiently, "And why did you want to?"

"Because I don't like them."

Mama looked surprised. "But Midori, you eat strawberries all the time. I know you like them."

"I don't like those strawberries."

"Why not?" Mama was beginning to sound a little exasperated.

Midori crossed her arms and said a little too loudly, "Because I don't, that's why!" and flounced a little.

Mama was starting to look angry. "I don't like your tone, Midori." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second. She stood up. "All right, then. You can just sit here until you're ready to tell me the reason. I'm going in the house for a while, but I'm not happy. In fact, I'm disappointed, and more than a little angry." Mama got up, and with another look at her ruined strawberries, she went into the house.

Midori wanted to kick her feet and say, "I don't care!" but she didn't quite dare. In the first place, she had only done that once before, when Mama was scolding her, and Mama had looked very angry indeed. She'd taken a deep breath, and turned her back on Midori. Papa had been sitting nearby, and when he heard Midori say that, he put down his book, got up, picked Midori up and unceremoniously dumped her into her "naughty chair". He knelt down in front of her and said, very quietly and seriously, "Don't talk to your mother like that, Midori. It's rude, and I don't like it." Midori had wanted to point out that Papa himself was often rude, and laughed about it; but then he said, "And don't get up from that chair until I tell you to," with a tone and a look that made her know he meant it, and she decided she'd better hold her tongue. She had begun to cry, and so had Mama. For just a moment, Papa had looked a bit dismayed, but then he went over to Mama, gave her a hug and said the strangest thing: "Don't worry, Akito. You kept your temper and you're doing a good job." Mama and Midori both cried even harder, and Papa had gone back to his book. He had made Midori sit in the chair for what seemed like a very long time, and when he let her get up, although he had hugged her and wiped her tears, he had also made her apologize to Mama. He had taken them all out to the park for ice cream afterwards, but nevertheless, Midori had not dared to be rude to Mama since.

In the second place, it wasn't even true. Midori did care. She adored both her parents, and she hated it when either of them was mad at her, or disappointed in her. Mama was angry, and she was probably in the house telling Papa about it right now.

Midori sat on the porch and felt as if she was going to cry.

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She had just barely started to sniffle when she heard the shoji doors slide open, and out stepped Papa. She stole a look at him and noted that he didn't look angry, or even particularly serious, so she quickly wiped her eyes and scrubbed at her nose, and pretended nothing was wrong at all.

Papa sat down next to her and said, "Well, hello there, Miss Strawberry Feet. I heard you got yourself into quite a little bit of trouble this afternoon."

Midori swung her feet, shrugged and said, "I guess."

"Would you care to tell me what put it into your head to go dancing through your mother's strawberry patch?"

"I wasn't dancing, Papa. That was later," Midori gave him a look.

"Ohhh, I see. Excuse me. As a writer, I suppose I should be careful to get my facts straight. However, in my defense, I did get the story secondhand. Well, then, let's see if I can get it right this time. Would you care to tell me why you decided to step in your mother's strawberries?"

Midori giggled, scooted over very close to Papa and leaned on him. She looked up at him with what she hoped was her very best smile, the one she had been told looked exactly like his. "Well, what if it wasn't me? What if it was a giant dragon, who crashed through the wall, breathing fire everywhere? And then he stomped all over the garden, and walked right through Mama's strawberry patch!"

Papa looked at her with just a hint of a smile. He reached down and took hold of her feet, putting them in his lap, and turning her so she was facing him as he did so. Midori squealed. He picked up one foot and examined it. "That's a very interesting story, but it doesn't explain the strawberry stains on your feet, Chibi-chan." He gave her a direct look.

Midori flopped onto her back. "Oh, Papa! Those aren't strawberry stains – they're strawberry shoes!" She kicked her feet up into the air, barely missing Papa's nose. "Or at least they were," she said, wriggling her toes. "There's not much left of them now." She sat up. "Papa," she said, "do you think that Aya-ojichan could find me another pair, a real pair of strawberry shoes, and bring them to me?"

"Well, Mi-chan, I don't know if Aya-ojichan would want to find a pair of shoes for a little girl who ruined her Mama's strawberries."

Midori's lip started to come out in a pout. Personally, she thought Aya-ojichan would laugh about the strawberries – he generally found tales of her misbehavior to be hilarious, and didn't hesitate to tell Mama and Papa so. But she thought she'd better not say that to Papa. Instead she said, "But Papa – what about the dragon?"

Papa took her by the shoulders and turned her so that she was looking out at the garden. "Midori. I want you to look out there. I don't see a hole in the wall, do you? Nor do I see any burnt spots, and nothing is stomped on except the strawberries. In fact, I don't see any evidence of a dragon being here at all. Take it from me, darling, if you're going to tell a story, it's best to pay attention to details."

"Maybe he magically fixed everything?"

"Except for the strawberries, evidently." Papa looked up at the sky for a moment. "Midori, I think we had a discussion about your 'creative storytelling' not too long ago. What did I tell you?"

Midori's lip came out again, this time a little further, "Not to."

"No, that's not what I said at all. Imagination is a wonderful thing for a child to have, and you know I want you to use yours, always. However, we did discuss this particular type of storytelling." He tapped her on the head. "Come now. Think."

"You said … you said it was good to make up stories and pretend, as long as I wasn't trying to fool anyone."

"That's right. And?"

"And," she put her head down. "I'm not s'posed to use my stories to try and get out of trouble."

"Exactly! I knew you were a brilliant child. Now, let me ask you again: why did you step in Mama's strawberries?"

Midori said sullenly, "Because I wanted to. I don't like them." She wouldn't look at Papa.

"Ah. And why don't you like them, darling?"

Midori kicked her feet again uncomfortably, and shrugged.

Papa gave her a moment, and then he said, "You know, Midori, Mama worked very hard taking care of those strawberries."

Midori wanted to say, "I don't care," and she would have meant it this time. But she didn't dare to, so she was silent.

Again, Papa waited. Then he said, "Remember when we all went to the beach house a few weeks ago?"

Midori looked up at him in surprise at the change of subject. She nodded. Midori had loved it at the beach house. There had been several of her cousins there and they had played all day, and cooked on the beach, and set off fireworks.

"Do you remember the big sandcastle you and the others made? And what happened to it?"

Midori frowned. "A big wave came in and broke it."

Papa nodded. "Uh-huh. And how did you feel when that happened, Mi-chan?"

"Sad." And she had been. In fact, she'd cried and cried, and some of her older cousins had comforted her and told her they'd build a new one the next day.

"And why were you sad?"

"Because it was so beautiful! And because we worked so hard to make it."

"Exactly. I think perhaps that's how Mama is feeling now."

Midori hadn't thought of that. She really hadn't wanted to make Mama that sad. She looked down at her feet.

"And you know, Mama's not the only one to consider. Yuki-niichan found her a special type of strawberry plant, and helped her to plant them, and told her how to take care of them. And just the other day, I heard Mama telling Tohru-neechan that she was going to give her some strawberries the next time she visited. I happen to known that Tohru-neechan loves strawberries."

This had really never occurred to Midori. She looked at Papa and gasped, "Do you think they'll be mad at me?" Midori loved Yuki-niichan and Tohru-neechan.

"No," Papa said, shaking his head, "but I think they might be sad that the strawberries got ruined."

Midori looked back at her feet and felt the tears start to prickle at the corners of her eyes. She sniffled.

Papa put his hand on her head and said gently, "Correct me if I'm wrong, Chibi-chan, but I don't think you really dislike the strawberries; I think perhaps you were angry with Mama about something, although I can't imagine what. I don't think it's like you at all to do something like this without a reason."

Midori looked up at Papa, burst into tears, and said, "Mama loves those strawberries better than me!"

Papa looked very surprised when she said that. He picked Midori up and held her on his lap, and she buried her face in his shirt and sobbed. She felt his arms come around her in a hug and he said, "Whatever would make you think a thing like that, darling girl? Your Mama loves you more than anything in the world. As do I."

"I –I wanted to play with her this morning. I- I asked her, and she said 'Not now, Midori. I have to water and weed and pick the strawberries first.' She's always playing in the garden!" Midori hiccupped.

"But Mi-chan, you know that Mama and Papa sometimes have to work. What do I tell you when I'm writing, and you want to come in?"

"S-sometimes you let me sit with you for a- a- awhile," she said in a muffled tone, her face still buried in Papa's shirt, which was getting soggy.

"Yes, I do, but other times, I tell you that I'm busy, and you have to go and find something else to do. Isn't that right?"

Midori nodded.

"Do you think that means I don't love you?"

Midori shook her head.

"And sometimes, when Mama is working in her office, doesn't she tell you you'll have to play quietly until her paperwork is done?"

Midori nodded again.

"Do you think that means she doesn't love you?"

Midori shook her head again.

"Well how is this different, Chibi-chan? This morning, Mama had to work in her garden."

Midori lifted up her head and looked at Papa. She burst out, "It is different! Mama's garden isn't her work – it's her play! I heard her say so! When Yuki-niichan was helping her plant the strawberries, he said, 'I never thought I'd see you working in a garden, Akito,' and Mama said, 'My garden doesn't seem like work to me, Yuki. It's like play.' She said it re …re … relaxed her. I think." Midori's brow furrowed, trying to remember the unfamiliar word.

Papa blinked at her, and then he looked up at the sky for a long moment. He looked back down at her and said, "So all this time, you thought Mama was playing in her garden, and didn't want to let you play too?" Midori nodded.

"Why didn't you tell her, Chibi-chan?"

"I don't know. 'Cause I didn't want to."

Papa laughed softly. "I'm not going to start that line of questioning again, or we'll be out here all night. Well, I think we should go and tell her now, don't you? I'm quite sure she'd want to know." Midori nodded solemnly, and sniffled again, quite loudly this time. Papa pulled out his handkerchief and put it up to her nose. "I know you've already used my shirt, but I think this will be much better. Blow." She did so, quite obediently.

Papa set Midori on her feet, stood up, and offered her his hand. She took it and they went into the house to find Mama.