Author's Note: This is my first Furuba fanfiction and to be honest, I'm a little nervous. The theme is dark compared to the happy go lucky feeling of the anime. I know that not all the moments in Fruits Basket are happy, but the majority are. The characters try to keep their spirits up and I admire that. Anyway, here's the prologue, I hope you enjoy it but be fore warned…it isn't exactly happy Lol. Please Read and Review, ENJOY!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters presented in Furuba, so don't think that I am a thieving little author because I'm not…hopefully. On the other hand Risika is my character and may not be used in any other story without my consent, so don't be afraid to ask if you want to use her…even though I doubt you will.
They thought it was an accident, something that occurred without a motive, without an idea in hand. But they were wrong.
It was something that I wanted to happen, something that I thought needed to happen so that my child, my daughter could live a normal life.
It was my fault she was brought into this world, my fault that she was born into this family. I was so stupid, I didn't follow my plan, I didn't do what was asked of me, I didn't keep my promise.
I told her that I would come back, I promised her that she would see me in two days, that mommy would bring back with her a surprise. She was glowing, smiling up at me like I was the greatest person on this planet, when I wasn't.
So I took her into my arms and kissed her cheek, her peals of laughter bringing tears to my eyes but I blinked them back. I placed one last kiss on her forehead and held onto her tiny hand. I stood and smiled up at my husband and kissed him gently.
"Call me if anything" he said "We'll drive right up there if anything goes wrong, alright?"
I nodded and kissed him again "Will do"
He grabbed our daughter's hand and gently pulled her back from the car as I got in. She stood by his side, smiling brightly at me and waved energetically. The small stuffed rabbit Momiji gave her shaking violently in her grasp. I watched as she looked up at her father and asked him something that I couldn't hear.
He smiled and nodded. He had most likely responded with something she liked because she broke out into laughter and rubbed her rosy cheek against the back of his hand, the closest she would ever be able to come to hugging her father.
I rolled down the window and blew kisses as the car pulled away "I LOVE YOU!" I screamed as the car turned a corner and I settled back into my seat, resting my head on the window.
"Attached huh?" the driver asked and I nodded.
"You have no idea" I muttered and shut my eyes. That was the last time that I would ever see my little girl, my little angel, my guilty conscience.
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I made my death look like an accident. All I simply did was re-visit that one hot spring, the one that made my head swim and my vision blur. And throughout the whole ordeal, throughout the entire act of fainting, slipping under the water and dying, all I could think about was that sweet intoxicating laughter, and how it made me scream with guilt. I'm sorry.
It was an hour and a half before the hostess came looking for me, and she screamed when she found me. Attendants came running to the scene and the police and ambulance were called. I was lifted from the water and placed on my back, a woman had tried to resuscitate me, but it was too late, I was already gone.
When the police finally arrived everything was decided. They assumed I hadn't seen the sign posted above the hot spring stating that it caused dizziness. The rest didn't need to be guessed. Suicide wasn't even considered.
My husband and child were to be notified of my death immediately, along with any other family members that I had remaining, which were none; but they would find that out later.
A patrol car was sent to my house and finally arrived at 1:20 in the morning. The loud incessant banging on the door had not only woken up my husband, but my daughter as well. I watched helplessly as she slid out of her tiny bed and ran to her bedroom door. Sliding it open she saw her sleep tousled father running down the steps and she quietly stepped down and sat at the very top of them holding her stuffed rabbit.
The glare of the revolving lights on the police car entered the house through the opened door and she buried her face into the rabbit's fur, trying to keep from looking at them.
I watched as confusion spread over my husbands face at the officer's request to come inside. He nodded slowly and stood aside, letting them enter our home. He asked them if there was a problem, why the un-usual hour and if there was a problem what was it.
The officers' explained it all in painstakingly slow banter; they tried their best to prepare him for what was coming, to prepare him for learning about the death of his wife.
When the truth was finally said there was no amount of preparation in the world that could prepare a loving husband for that news. I watched in complete horror as the realization of their words finally sank in, and he broke down. He didn't cry at first, he waited until the officers' left to do that. But once the door was shut behind him he covered his face with his hands and sobbed, the only woman that he felt would ever love him and understand him completely, was gone.
He slid down to the floor in a crumpled heap and bawled bordering on hysterics. And while all of this was going on, my little girl was sitting on the first step listening, for the first time in her life, to her father crying. It seemed like a small eternity before she drew up her courage and jerkily made her way down the steps to find her father on the floor. She kept a stern face, but her eyes were shining with worry.
"What's wrong daddy?" she asked, placing a hand on his head like he had done to her so many times before.
He jumped when he heard her tender voice and slowly looked up at her. His eyes were red rimmed and tears continued to stream down his face as he lied there looking at her.
"Risika" he said hoarsely, she smiled wearily upon hearing her name and sat beside him, letting her small hand fall into her lap.
"Daddy, what's wrong. Why are you crying?" she asked again softly "If something is making you sad daddy, mommy says that it helps when you tell someone because you feel better!" she said helpfully, her voice rising with excitement like only a child's voice can when talking about their parents.
He slowly sat up, using the door to rest his back against and patted the spot where he once laid, signaling to her to sit by him. She crawled over and sat looking up at her father with loving eyes. He swallowed at first and tried to look at her as he began speaking but he couldn't. Instead he settled on looking ahead of him, at a spot on our living room wall.
"Risika" he said slowly and took her small hand in his "do you remember where mommy is?"
She nodded happily and pointed up "She's at the Sohma hot spring, getting the rest she deserves! I remember because you told me daddy."
He stopped and I was crying. I thought that my decision would make their lives easier, not harder. No one needed me. My daughter would not be able to live a wonderful life if she had me stifling her. I was a bad friend a bad wife and a bad mother. No one needed me and they still don't. I'm sorry that I wasn't a good enough person to realize sooner that bringing a child into this family was a mistake. I'm sorry that I didn't stop, I'm sorry that I didn't say no. I'm sorry that I was…am in love with your father.
I'm sorry that you were born into a family that shuns its own members. A family that steals their ideals, thoughts, morals, and calls them taboo…a family who lives in fear of their next move.
I wanted it to look like an accident. I wanted them to think it occurred without motive, without an idea in hand. So all I had to do was revisit that one hot spring. The one that made my head swim and my vision blur.
I'm sorry my little girl, I truly am.
