Me: Before you start to read this, I have a message for you. But Momiji can pass it on!
Momiji: Yay! Hi readers! I'm Momiji Sohma, and I have a message for you! Ready? My soul your beats does not own Fruits Basket or any of the characters in it!
Me: You're so cute Momiji! *Hugs* Oops. *Petting bunny* Enjoy the story!
A Bunny in a Skirt: Fruits Basket Fan fiction.
It was just after Mutti begged Hari to erase her memories. I sat crying in the hall, wanting her to love me and remember me. But that was impossible. I looked into the room next to me. Hatori was looking at my mother seriously, but Mama looked less ill already.
"It is done." Hatori said quietly.
Mama stood up and left the room, nodding to Hatori as she passed him. I dashed away when she neared the door, remembering Papa's words:
"Don't let her see you. She might fall sick again if you see her. And most importantly, don't tell her about the Zodiac."
I ran to my room and collapsed on my bed. Tears poured down my face for countless hours, leaving hot and wet tracks on my face. Through my loud sobs, I heard the door open softly, and Papa came in.
"Mama seems better already. I know this is hard for you, but if Hatori-san didn't do that, she would have never recovered. You don't want that, do you?" Papa said in a soft and sympathetic voice. I shook my head. Of course I wanted to her to get better, but I didn't want it to happen this way. Papa smiled and hugged me. "I'll love you twice as much as I already do, and that way it will seem like Mama never left. I love you so much, Momiji-chan." He kissed my blonde hair and exited my room. I sobbed more, for now I was even more alone.
When it got dark, I left the house and ran to the nearest clothes store. I headed straight for the girls' clothing section. The cashier seemed surprised to see a young boy buying girls clothes in the dead of night. For a second, I wondered how she would react if she knew I was able to transform into a bunny. That made me think of Mutti, so I quickly ran home.
Mama did forget me, but I wanted to make sure she wouldn't forget me again, even if she could never know that I was her son. She did notice me, but only because of my outfits. It is hard to miss a young boy in girls clothes, after all. So Mutti, though forgetting I am her son, will always remember me. Even if it's not a fond memory, even if she thinks I'm strange, she knows I exist. I tell everyone that I just like girls' clothes more, so I don't dig up these painful memories of how I was hated by my own mother.