The Sohma Institute
By Lady of the InkDisclaimer: I don't own Fruits Basket, but you knew that. I hope. I do own this story, and all the plot twists it contains.
Dedication: To everyone who has taken the time to review. I really do appreciate it.
Chapter Seventeen
An Alarming RevelationThe next day...
Tohru studied the sheet of paper in her hand, double checking the address she had jotted there several hours earlier. Although the page was wrinkled and a bit smeared, the writing was still legible. Comparing the numbers on it to the ones on the sign just in front of her, she sighed in relief and a little unease at the knowledge that she was getting close.
Her talk with Momiji had netted her some more insight into his personality, but no information about his family or past as she had hoped it would. For someone who seemed very open, Momiji let little slip about himself. Even after a two-hour game where he was rarely silent, she remained almost completely in the dark about anything more than superficial likes and dislikes. It had frustrated her to no end. The best clue she had was still his comment about playing the violin, and so she had no choice but to build her plan around that one fact.
The idea she had come up with required a bit of research before it could be carried out. Using a computer at her school, Tohru revisited the article about the Sohma family. Reading over it, she had focused in on one passage in particular.
As a testament to the family's closeness, the article had said, many of them lived in the same complex, affectionately dubbed "The Compound". Basically, it was a large apartment building, although many steps above the one she herself lived in. The twenty apartments were home to smaller families within the Sohmas. The article went on to name several of those families, including Momiji's and Haru's, and said that it was located on the other side of the town from the Institute.
She had jotted down the address and carried it in her pocket through the rest of her morning classes. It had been pulled out and smoothed many times, resulting in its less than perfect condition. By lunchtime, the pull of her curiosity and desire to help caused her to do something she had never done before. Asking friends to get her work and take notes, she skipped her afternoon classes and slipped off campus.
Now, as she took the final few steps to the building that had occupied her mind all morning, Tohru had to fight down her second thoughts. She knew that what she was doing could get her in trouble, especially since she wasn't even supposed to know that Momiji and the others were Sohmas. But after a lot of thought and soul searching, she had decided it was worth the risk if it helped Momiji even a little. If you couldn't put yourself on the line for something important, she told herself, than you couldn't really say you'd done your best.
The building was large and well designed, speaking of money with this its subtle elegance. It fit right in with the other homes and businesses around it. She studied it carefully, but there was none of the unsettling atmosphere that seemed to permeate the Institute. It was just what it seemed to be: an average place of residence.
Telling herself that that was a good sign, Tohru slowly crossed the sidewalk towards the front of the building. Scrutinizing the front door, she took two steps and then paused. A moment passed and she managed another step before closing her eyes and taking a few slow, deep breaths. Her entire body tensed as she took one more step forward . . .only to turn on her heel and walk in the other direction.
She was halfway down the block when she talked herself into giving it one more try. It would foolish to come so far only to give up when the goal was in sight. With straightened shoulders and a determined stride, she re-crossed the concrete she had retreated down just moments before.
She didn't make it to the door, but she did make it to a bench located less than five feet from it.
Tohru sat with her hands pressed tightly against her knees and her head bowed, silently berating herself for her lack of courage. If she were half as brave as her mother had been, as brave as Arisa or Saki, she would march inside and go right up to the front desk. She would simply look the clerk in the eye and ask to speak with Momiji's moth . . .
Her head shot up as she realized she didn't even know the first name of the woman she was looking for. The only information she had to offer was that she wanted the Mrs. Sohma who had a son named Momiji that currently didn't live at home.
Yeah, that would get her a meeting.
Groaning, she thumped at her forehead with a loosely balled fist. It hadn't even occurred to her that Mrs. Sohma wouldn't be enough in a building with at least ten Mrs. Sohma's in residence. She never would have made it past the front desk. She sighed in defeat, wishing she had thought to do a little more research before striking out. Another day or so of planning might have made all the difference. Now she had skipped class and wasted an afternoon and had nothing to show for either action.
Resigned to the fact that she would have to abandon her plan, at least for the moment, Tohru climbed to her feet. She had only taken a few steps when six words caught her attention enough to make her pause.
"Have a good afternoon, Mrs. Sohma."
'What are the odds,' Tohru asked herself, 'that the Mrs. Sohma the man is talking to is the Mrs. Sohma I need to see?'
Her curiosity and the small chance that just that could be possible had Tohru slowly turning around. The first person she saw was The Compound's doorman, clad in a pristine uniform, walking back inside. She knew that he had to have been the man who had spoken. But where was the woman he had been talking to?
As she pivoted to widen her field of vision, she almost bumped into someone passing beside her. She turned to apologize and froze in shock. The woman continued walking, apparently not noticing the almost collision. Staring after her, Tohru felt a surge of elation as her eyes took in honey blonde hair cut in a stylish bob. It was the exact shade of Momiji's hair. A quick glance around the almost deserted street also showed that she was the only other female on the sidewalk. Process of elimination said that there was a very good chance that this woman was the very person she had been looking for.
Resuming her walk, Tohru fell into step a couple of paces behind the older woman. She was arguing with herself over if and how she should approach the woman when she noticed a thick sheaf of papers sliding from under her arm. It landed on the ground with a faint thud.
Mrs. Sohma (as she presumed the woman to be) continued walking, not seeming to notice the absence of her belonging. From their place on the sidewalk, the papers fluttered slightly in the breeze, almost as though trying to catch someone's attention. After a moment's pause, Tohru bent to retrieve them.
"Excuse me," she called, sprinting forward. "Ma'am, excuse me." The woman turned, her bright brown eyes and tilted head clearly questioning. Tohru held out the paper, smiling shyly as she explained. "You dropped this."
The woman looked down in surprise, apparently recognizing the document. She glanced inside her purse, and then reached out with an embarrassed laugh. "Thank you. I didn't even notice that I'd lost it." She smiled gratefully, and her resemblance to Momiji intensified with the gesture.
The odds against coming face to face with Momiji's mother were astronomical, and yet, it had still happened. That was a good enough sign for Tohru to gather her courage and take the next step.
"I don't mean to be rude, but I was wondering if I could speak with you for a moment?"
"I'm in a bit of a hurry, I'm meeting someone for lunch." Possibly expecting some kind of sales pitch, Mrs. Sohma started to turn away with a shake of her head. Tohru hurried to get to her point.
"I work at the Sohma Institute, Mrs. Sohma, as an aide. I'm currently working on the twelfth floor."
As she had expected, Mrs. Sohma stopped moving away. She offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, but you never know what kind of people you'll meet on the street. You can never be too careful." She tucked her papers into her purse before continuing. "So, you work on the twelfth floor. We have something in common, then."
Tohru smiled brightly, thankful that she seemed about to bring up the touchy subject of her own violation. "That's exactly what I wanted to speak with you about. You see, I was talking to Momiji and . . ." She trailed off when she noticed the other woman blanch. "Are you okay?" she asked, growing concerned when Mrs. Sohma seemed frozen in place.
"What did you just say?" The voice that had formerly been so friendly had grown cold and hoarse.
"I asked if you were okay . . ."
Mrs. Sohma held up a hand, cutting Tohru off. "Before that."
Feeling off balance and confused, Tohru thought back over her words. "I was talking to Momiji?"
"How dare you!" The emotion in her voice made Tohru want to take a step back. She looked at the older woman, seeing the whiteness of her knuckles where her hands were clutching her purse straps tightly.
"Wh-what's the matter?"
"How can you ask that when you ambush me in the middle of the street to tell me you've been talking to my son?" She was breathing heavily now, pulling air in in great gasps that were loud on the otherwise quiet street. Tohru's first thought was that she was about to get yelled at for breaking the rules, but even that reason seemed a bit too weak for the older woman's reaction. Surely it would merit a reprimand, or a simple dismissal, not some screaming fit in the middle of a public sidewalk.
"But . . .but you said . . .we had something in common. I thought you meant . . ." Her stumbling excuses were cut off once more.
"My husband oversees the research paperwork for the twelfth floor." Her tone was still clipped, but Momiji's mother appeared to be regaining her composure. She swallowed a few times, blinking rapidly as she faced Tohru down.
"But I thought you were talking about Momiji . . ."
"Of course I wasn't talking about Momiji, because there is no way that you could know him."
"But I just told you, I was talking to him!"
"You're lying."
"I assure, Mrs. Sohma, that I wouldn't do that. I'm telling you the truth."
"No. There is no way that you could have spoken to Momiji. It's impossible."
"But I did! I do! I see him almost every night!" Tohru felt herself becoming upset at the woman's refusal to believe her. Why was she trying so hard to deny the possibility that she knew Momiji?
Mrs. Sohma seemed to have had enough of the conversation. Resolutely raising her chin, she looked Tohru right in the eyes. "I don't find this amusing at all. I think it's very cruel of you say such things."
Tohru looked at her in disbelief. "But I'm not lying! Momiji is-"
"Dead." The solitary word came out strangled as tears brimmed in her eyes. "My son is dead, and has been for five years." With that shocking disclosure delivered, she turned and walked away, leaving a stunned Tohru standing speechless in the middle of the sidewalk.
The next day . . .
