Fruits Basket High school fic

Cherry Blossom, Think of Me

I'm back, my little darlings! Yes, I know, why do I keep using the same OC character? Because I've built so much background on her, I couldn't resist!

When I finished reading Furuba (Fruits Basket), I literally cried at how similar our lives were and how I could relate to each character. So here we go! (Please review:p)

P.S. You can sort of think of this as an alternate universe, I guess, because this story doesn't follow the manga's whole storyline/conclusion of who pairs up.

Sorry if I didn't separate the events of the story, when I typed it up I separated everything into it's own sections but the website took them off.

:p

Disclaimer: I don't own this lovely little Anime/Manga tale. I only own Nakoruru, Minosa, and Mr. Kidemore. Enjoy my lovelies333

Ages (only in ch.1):

Nakoruru/Momiji/Hatsuharu 15

Roma./Drama/Angst

Chapter 1 - Midnight Minosa

"Have you ever been alone in a crowded room?"

I'm sitting next to my only friend in the entire world, and my palms are sweating. And he's everywhere; in my dreams, in my thoughts...in my heart. I tell myself that he doesn't know that I exist; but I know the truth...He does know-He just doesn't care. Soft, blonde locks framed his smooth, tanned masculine face as cerulean eyes looked straight ahead, focusing on the lesson. He's the only one that matters; he's everything to me. He showed me compassion when my distant father left me in the misty, dark cold with nothing but a murky, gritty, torn blanket and crusted bruises to my name.

Even though we both knew this was a 'friendship' based solely on pity and misfortune, we complimented each other well. We were both a bit foreign to this country, for example. My American birthright blended a bit with his German heritage, although my blood was mixed with Hispanic and Japanese background as well. He was such a loving, trusting sweetheart that I couldn't help but desire to ruin him until my depraved, spiteful adoration was the only thing that he could run to. Don't be mistaken, I didn't love him. I just craved his attention-in any way, shape, or form that I could receive it. He couldn't relate to what I was going through, but he understood me. And for that, he's simply…beautiful.

"Kokiri-san, I'd suggest you pay attention to this lesson; this will benefit you more in the future than it will the other students," Mortified, the raven-haired teen self-consciously looked at her professor and nodded her head slowly. She quickly hid the pitch black, cardboard bound journal/notebook she was currently writing in from view, afraid that the teacher would be cruel enough to read her personal thoughts to the class if caught. Although it was personally assigned to her by the School Guidance Counselor after one brief, poignant session, it wouldn't make a difference in how many hours of detention she would receive. Such was the luck she was blessed with, after all.

"I'd like to have a word with you after class," As the bell rang, the students stormed passed the quiet schoolgirl one by one, each bearing their own vicious smirks at the awkward situation that troubled the distressed young girl. Transferring from America to Japan, she still wasn't well received even after months of constant, repetitive torture and suffering. Although she was born in America, she was Hispanic (Dominican) on her Mother's side, may the Lord bless that poor woman's dear soul. Deemed unstable because of her intoxicatingly diverse background, the other students in her homeroom had decided to test the obviously traumatized girl, unknowingly lurking on dim waters. They never had a chance. But that chapter is best left alone, for now.

After awhile, the pain did subside, another matter she owed the German darling thanks for. Stopping short, the boy in question gave her a look filled purely with sympathy and unease as he squeezed her shoulders. Ignoring the disapproving look of the professor, he lightly patted her head on his way out, having to outreach his arm a bit due to the minor height difference-They were both exceptionally short for their age, after all. Closing the door behind him, her aura couldn't help but reek of defeat and anguish as she looked into the livid, lively eyes of her teacher. Her arms crossed, Nakoruru could tell there would be even more trouble to come.

I've watched him for months now, and the sudden change terrified me at first. Back then, he was so carefree and vivid, it was almost as if he wasn't concerned with pleasing anyone but himself. I actually admired him for it. That's when this obsession started to develop- I had to think of him and see him at every moment of every waking day-even if he couldn't see me. I wanted to feel like I was wanted - no, loved - no, needed by someone…anyone. And he gave me that much.

But now he's more subtle and a bit harder to please. Or maybe that's just me.

Did I tell you that I have a father? Well, I'm not worthy of calling him that so I'll call him Mr. Kidemore, for lack of a better word. After my mother died, I flew here to live in torture while he collects the insurance money…I guess the basis of why I pine for Momiji Sohma is because I have no form of love from my own blood father. Miji-kun willingly gives me what my father, an evil, wicked man who despises my existence for reasons I hope to never understand, lacks. Funny, I always thought that I was the evil one. That's what I've always been told, at least.

So how did I end up here?

My mother…My beautiful, young, caring, gentle mother…I remember that day so vividly; It was raining murder in Brooklyn… Stabbed to almost death and was left to drown in her own blood out on the treacherous streets of New York during the seeping hours of midnight. The sound of thunder had surrounded me that night. I remember because thunder was the only thing that I let confer absolute anxiety upon me. I fear the rain because of what it brings-suppressed memories that literally took me carefully crafted years to bury…Because it's lonely - just like me. How exotically disturbing.

She actually died when I was about twelve; the orphanage hadn't caught up with me at the time because I was living on the streets when it had happened. But because of one simple, idiotic mistake, on my part, I was forced to immigrate to Japan, and the fact that I was a minor who wasn't attending school at the time weighed heavy on their supposedly 'empathetic' hearts. I was forced to live with that good for nothing, selfish, merciless monster of a father who loathed me because I reminded him of the only woman who could stir an unrelenting ferocity in him. I was glad I looked like her; it felt as if I were avenging her in a warped, manipulative kind of way. I cherish my mother Minosa for that dearly.

Oh my, what a monotone voice I've gained since then. Detached. That's what I had become. And that's what I hated about myself the most.

But don't be mistaken; I was far from benevolent. My tears of rage meant nothing. I'm just a cherry blossom girl, trying to find her place in the world…

Daddy Dearest, why do you hate me so? I bear these bruises for no one to see…What more do I have to do for you to finally accept me?

These are the four walls that I have to come to everyday...the four walls I'm forced to call home...the four walls that protect me...My sanctuary. The atmosphere was almost always filled with a sense of…fury. Alarmed, the burning sensation I felt as he moved his body toward mine with as much refinement as a lion getting ready to pounce on his feeble prey petrified me and reassured me at the same time. I knew what was coming next-I constantly kept medical supplies near by, tolerantly awaiting this moment. But that was a story for another time. And I'm here, saying nothing.

How could I say anything when the pain is all I've ever known?

The one security blanket I have to persistently protect and shelter me isn't even one of my own. It cradles me, comforts me, and brings what little hope and faith I have left in this world to a standstill.

Momiji's past.

I saw. His secret. I know it. I crave it…I watched him at the School Festival a few months ago…When he hugged that girl, he turned into a…At first I couldn't-no-wouldn't believe it. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, just like everything else in my life felt a sick, and twisted obligation to do so. He had managed to defy the impossible!

I knew it was true. And all the pieces of the puzzle began to slowly fall into place. Why I was to never stand so close to him...Why he refused to show me affection even after I begged and pleaded with him for it during the times I needed it the most…It wasn't that he didn't want to, he just couldn't. And I had so effortlessly labeled him as cold…It's clear to me now. Maybe I'm the heartless one.

But I kept this to myself. I owed him this, after all. If it weren't for him, I don't know where I'd be - probably buried in bitter snow with nothing but the cold, harsh wind to soothe me. I was forever in debt to him. Surprisingly, it didn't really phase me that I wasn't trusted enough to be told something so life threatening although I clearly put that much loyalty into him. It pretty much makes sense, actually.

I guess that Honda-san – was that her name – brought life into him. I saw the way he looked at her and to be honest, I didn't like it at first. I despised her because she could do in a few days what I couldn't even manage to do after months of trying, although I was probably the one who was in dire need of change. I barely broke through his shielded walls, which, in a way, defended my own in return it seemed. I just wanted him to experience the delightful bliss that he unintentionally installed into me during every moment of my dreadful being. He made life a bit more bearable. Even though I wanted him to be happy, my selfish clutching onto him only tainted him more and made things worse. So the only thing left to do was to let him go.

Years later, I realized that I really needed to thank her for that. I almost lost myself because of my ill fixation. In fact, I'm almost compelled to return the favor.

And that's when I saw him.

Shades of black and white stunned me as he stood tall in all his glory. Soft fingers were helplessly clad with loads of jewelry; a painfully obvious attempt at the defiance of a rebel. His pale skin meshed well with the tones of gold and silver hanging loosely around his neck. His 5'10 meshed well with my 5'1. Generously proportioned hands made me guess that he was probably an expert at various styles of combat, like Tae Kwon Do or Karate. Oh, what a rugged comfort he was. He effortlessly turned the underlying feelings and emotions I had once long ago hidden deep within my soul back on without so much as a glance.

Was it getting a little hot in here? Or maybe that's just him.

I figured he had some form of relation to Miji-kun; I've never heard him speak so dearly of anyone before, besides that Honda-san. This Hatsuharu Sohma guy was seriously beginning to ignite some type of curiosity and interest inside of me.

He caught me staring with my rather big but almond shaped amethyst eyes that were so far from innocent but still managed to fool others into thinking so anyway. In that same instant, our eyes forcibly locked and I fell into a trance that I knew wouldn't be broken unless he chose to. I couldn't look away; it was as if some sort of invisible tie linked us together. We were the only ones in a room full of gloom and sorrow. It terrified me how excited I was.

The fact that I was in a place where I unmistakably didn't belong hadn't registered through my mind as the expression on my face was currently tinted with complete and utter shock and embarrassment at what he did next…He grinned. Not the sort of sunshine dipped smile that Miji-kun threw at me every now and then during the gripping instants of my relapsing darkest hours, but a sweet and borderline, dare I say it, demented smirk that couldn't help but send tiny shivers through my spine. Blood rushing to my head, I lost all train of thought as my feet seemed to lift off the ground and take discomfited but confident steps in his direction. Would he be the one to save me?

He caught me by surprise. I could almost feel the want and fascination bubbling in my stomach. No one had ever done that to me before. Not even Momiji.

Oh, he was bold.

I even went as far as to deem him crazy-In an almost passionate kind of way. Pierced ears, awkward hair, dirty eyes…I decided that I longed for that kind of passion.

After all, when you spend fifteen tormenting years in nothing but solitude and misery, eccentric behavior begins to tilt toward the brighter side of darkness and desolation.

I decided that I liked him. A lot.

And this time, I would finally get what I wanted and deserved - even if it killed me.

He didn't stand a chance. And I was perfectly fine with the odds.

Game on.

So what do you guys think? It's short because it's the first chappy-after this, the chapters will be much longer and detailed. Read and/or review-even if it's to helpfully criticizeJ- and I'll be sure to update as soon as possible;p

The story won't be in her POV after this chapter, btw. Or I might switch POVS/Narratives once in awhile if you guys like the way it's written or bleh. I just wanted to write in a different style, but I'm going back to the regular POV in Ch. 2.

If you didn't catch it, the chapter ends at the school festival (when Tohru is officially introduced to Momiji and Hatori Sohma-who plays a big role in this story). Chapter 2, 3 and 4 are done, so I'll probably post them in a week or two, depending on the feedback:p Creative criticism is appreciated, my loves. Later for now:p