Disclaimer: Natsuki Takaya owns Fruits Basket, and anything else you recognize isn't mine.

Chapter 6

The contrast between Khosure's and Hotohori's houses could not have been greater. Hotohori's family, the Zhuruths, lived in the Mhagenu district, the same neighborhood as the Shoma compound. The Zhuruth home was only three blocks away from Mhagenu School, and it was modern and comfortably large. On every side of the Zhuruths were the homes of prominent Lhasa lawyers, businessmen and administrators. Inhabitants of the poorer neighborhoods called it "Maginu", "the corrupt pit." Many of these same businessmen and administrators had cheated them out of secure jobs, health care and education.

All the more reason for Hotohori to despise her home. Generally she spent as much time as she could on various school activities, such as student government and studying in the library, or having a drink with her friends. The less time at home, the better, she figured. That way, the chances of having to listen to Mother and Father's close friend, the banker from next door, brag about the latest deal he'd made which would prevent a "certain class"—wealthy Lhasans always used euphemisms for the poor—from being able to take out loans, were not as great.

Granted, Hotohori had other, more personal, reasons for avoiding home.

Hotohori

"Now, my dear Hirini, it is up to the members of the less motivated third of society to improve their standing. Such a responsibility shouldn't fall on the government's shoulders," intoned a man's baritone.

Inwardly I cringed as I stepped over the front threshold. The banker Nhase Lhu, our next-door-neighbor, was having hot cocoa with Mother in the sitting room. Maybe I could walk by without notice. I had more important things to do than exchanging mechanical niceties with the true scum of Lhasa. The door slammed shut before I could stop it. Alas, fate was against me.

"The girl Hotohori must be home," declared Mother. "Hotohori, come here and wish Mr. Nhase a good afternoon."

Resignedly, my leaden feet trudged over to the sitting room.

"Good afternoon, Mother, good afternoon, Mr. Nhase." I said, mustering all the formality I could and bowing slightly to Nhase. Nhase Lhu had, if possible, gained more weight since the last time I spoke to him a month ago. His suit strained to hold in the surplus flesh, and he completely filled the armchair.

"Hm, you're right, Hirini. She's not as pretty as your older daughters. She's adopted, correct?" Nhase Lhu frowned. "And such an unusual name."

"That's right, Lhu," Mother replied cheerily. "That reminds me—no, Hotohori, stay and listen to this—I just received a letter from my darling Dzana." Dzana, my parents' most beloved child, and one of my two hated elder sisters. Dzana, thirteen years older, the perfect daughter, now working as a high-level educational administrator in Rhenigroth, the largest city in western Hoth—evidence of an amazing mind, imagine, in such a position at such a young age, as my mother repeatedly gushed to everyone she met. Because Dzana was so much older than me, and our lives were so different that we hardly ever saw each other. By the time I was five years old, she was eighteen and already in high school.

Rheza, however, proved to be another story altogether. Only six years older than me, we spent considerably more time together as young children. Unfortunately for me, she was the perfect manipulator. She behaved as an angel towards Mother and Father, and exploited their spoiling her to get everything she wanted. Whenever she caused trouble in the house, she always framed me. Since Mother and Father were lukewarm towards me to begin with, it was easy for Rheza to make them favor her over me. I would always be "that girl Hotohori," never "my darling daughter." When Rheza was in middle and high school, everybody knew that she had drug problems and hung out with the worst crowd, except for Mother and Father. They remained completely blind to her "issues."

Rheza now lives in Hareth, so I don't have to see her anymore, thank goodness. Mother tells everyone that Rheza is "a vital contributor to the artistic community in Hareth," which, if it were true, would be very impressive. But as far as I can tell, Rheza contributes to the artists' community by sleeping with every male artist. And possibly a few female ones, too. She's too out of it to notice the difference.

Instead of listening to Mother and Nhase Lhu discuss Dzana's potential for sainthood, I turned inward to my own thoughts. Looking out the window, I saw that it was still raining. I hoped the temperature would stay warm—whenever it snows, I'm afflicted with a deep depression. Not if it's snowing in the regular, stormy way; in that case I'd be depressed for over half the year. No, only when big, gentle flakes are slowly falling, a relatively rare occurrence for Lhasa. I've pored through the mental health dictionaries trying to find out why, but nothing makes sense. None of the symptoms for seasonal affective disorder match, I have no traumatic experience with snow…

It's a problem I've had since childhood. When the snow depression strikes me, I still go through my daily routine, although that often means using every bit of strength to overcome the lethargy and constant urge to cry. Snow depressions leave me completely exhausted at the end. Mother and Father never really notice them, except to tell me to stop looking more miserable than usual. Only my close friends, Haku, Kho and Hatsuharu, really understand the depth of snow depression's effect on me. They do their best to cheer me up, as they also do whenever I have one of my lung attacks.

The second of my two mysterious conditions—roughly every other months, I feel a burning sensation develop in my chest, and my lungs tighten and make it difficult for me to breathe, as though they were filled with thick smoke. During these attacks I'm bedridden, and I sometimes wish I would die so I didn't have to endure the pain. I'm also afraid that the next attack will be the last—that I will die. They have been getting more frequent lately. The last one was only two weeks ago, and the one before that, five weeks ago. Each one lasts longer, too—before, they were only a day, but now they stretch to two or three days of horrible pain. And naturally no known medicine works. I wish Haku, Kho and Hatsuharu didn't have to worry so about me, especially when I'm so concerned about them.

"Hotohori, are you listening?" snapped Mother. "I'm reading Dzana's letter, you know."

"Yes, Mother, I'm sorry," I replied robotically, an automatic look of contrition crossing my face. Oh, I can't wait to leave "Maginu." Perhaps I'll move to Gogotha, far away from everyone in my family.

But that still leaves the three boys. Just recently I noticed the numerous patches on Kho's clothing. He hasn't said a word about his home life, but I strongly suspect his situation isn't good at all. I wish I'd noticed earlier. He's so upbeat, and I will admit, he does cheer me up even if he drives me nearly insane sometimes. Kho has such a dramatic soul. Then Haku, who's been more preoccupied than usual, and Hatsuharu being so worried…both of them are clearly hiding something. Not to mention, on top of all this, the four of us don't look like normal Hothans. Our common bond.

"Hotohori, if you won't pay attention, go find something useful to do," ordered Mother, annoyed that I didn't put a top priority on listening to Dzana's revelatory writings.

Ecstatic for the opportunity to get away, I hurriedly said good-bye to Mother and Nhase Lhu and left. ("Such a rude girl, and ungrateful!" I heard Nhase Lhu pronounce before I'd stepped out the door.)

Flopping onto my bed, I pulled out an old favorite book from the shelf next to my bed. I figured I'd read a little, take my mind off things and relax. As my head hit the pillow, I felt the all-too-familiar heat building up in my lungs.