Fruits Basket is not mine.


Full and a little less depressed, Momiji left the main Souma house and started making his way back home, after convincing a very worried Akito that, yes, he'd be alright and, no, he did not need to stay the night, seeing as his house was in the same estate. And if anything, he'd call. After a full twenty minutes of insisting that he really didn't need to be treated like a baby and his little slump was over, Momiji was finally allowed to go and he dashed out of the house before Akito could say another word or change his mind. By the time it was already a little past midnight. They had a habit of talking and talking and basically wasting the time away in the main house during and after dinner.

Finally out of the watchful line of sight of Akito, Momiji allowed his shoulders to relax a bit and slump. Despite all the protests that he was okay, Momiji was in fact still feeling quite down. But that wasn't the problem, everyone had their ups and downs, even the seemingly ever-cheerful Momiji. It was the disturbing fact that Momiji had been feeling this way for the past few days, almost a week. Sure, the little rabbit got a little upset now and then but never for so long at a go. It had even started to affect his thinking.

Momiji couldn't stop from wincing as the memory of that afternoon flashed through his mind again.

Maybe Akito was right, he needed a break from it all. A break from trying to make everyone happy. Momiji knew he couldn't put anything pass Akito anyway. That was probably one of the reasons why Momiji was usually more himself around the Head of House and his koi. He knew he didn't need to keep anything from them (or rather, couldn't). But tonight, even Akito couldn't get much out from Momiji as to why he was crying. It's not like Akito didn't know. But he just wanted an explanation. Momiji swore he still had a little of that sadistic streak of torturing people left in him.

As much as Momiji loved Akito and told him just about everything, Momiji couldn't bring himself to say how much hurt he was going through. For as long as he could remember, Momiji saw himself as the one who brought the laughter in awkward situations. The one who made people happy, acting the clown, and although he doesn't seem like it, he understood people. He was always the one revealing other people's problems and trying to solve them. Not the other way round. It just felt... wrong. As open Momiji seems, he was in fact a very private person, disliking bringing up his own personal problems. And he hated it when people got too worried about him. He appreciates Akito, but it didn't mean he had to like it.

Reaching the door of his modest house that consisted of a garden and backyard, each about the same size as the main building itself, Momiji toed his shoes off and put on more comfortable slippers, the one with bunny ears on them. He made his way slowly down the familiar corridor towards his room. Even without the lights on and hardly able to see past his outstretched hands, Momiji knew exactly where to go and which step to take. There wasn't a sound in the house apart from the light thuds and scraps of his slippers on the wooden floorboards and if he listened carefully he could just hear the lone wind chime which he had hung on the back porch.

And if he had stopped walking and stood very still, he could hear the faint creaking of the ancient house around him creaking and saying in the night wind, as if the house had a life of its own, moving to try and swallow him up with its creaks and dark hallways.

But he had learnt not to be afraid of it a long time ago. It was just another familiar routine, anyways. Momiji reached his room and threw on the switch. He hadn't even remembered to switch it off before rushing off to Akito's. One of the maids must have already made her rounds. And sure enough, the towel and clothes which he had dumped in a crumpled heap in the floor was gone and he was sure more clean ones were put in his cupboard.

Momiji was about to take another step into the room when he stopped suddenly, leg in mid-step. He hesitated, then out his leg down, right beside his other one. Looking at his feet as if they could explain their actions, Momiji decided he did not like this. Did not like this at all.

He looked around the room -- his empty room, a single wrought iron bed placed along the left wall and his desk with his few books lay neatly against the adjacent wall, right under the window where Momiji could see a small pond and a young willow tree that already had its leaves hanging down, their tips just grazing the water surface and disrupting its quiet peace with little ripples, where the back garden connected to the front.

Standing there a while more, he then turn around, raised his hand to flick the light switch off again before he disappeared once again out of his room and out of the dark house.

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Once again, Momiji found himself in front of the familiar two-story mansion. Pulling the door open with almost no noise at all, Momiji stepped into the dim threshold like a veteran burglar. Indeed, this was not the first time Momiji was doing this. He quickly found his way to the staircase and started his way up, avoiding the creaky ones and still maintaining his silence.

Reaching the landing of the second floor, Momiji made no delay in taking the few steps to the door on the right. He gripped the door handle which, unlike the rest of the house which was all in traditional Japanese design, was a western design, made of high quality oak which few could afford and had a turning round doorknob. Here Momiji hesitated. He had come without a second thought, almost out of instinct, but he did not consider its implications or consequences. It was only some time after midnight after all. He usually only came at around three to four in the morning, just to be sure the boy on the opposite side of the door was asleep. Souma Hatsuharu had late nights.

Momiji looked back the way he came and noticed in the dim light coming from the lamp that stood on a small table down the hallway that he had left a trail of wet footprints of dew from his now soaking bunny slippers which he had rushed out in in his rush to get here.

That in itself was not a good thing as somebody would be suspicious. Momiji thought back a bit and remembered with the slight relaxing of his shoulders that Hatsuharu's busy parents were away on a business trip in Korea.

But it was still too early. He couldn't risk being seen by a white Hatsuharu and being asked of his purpose of his presence there. He looked down at his bunny slippers and its droopy ears, made even droopier by the dampness, for the second time tonight. He let go of the door handle and was turned to leave.

Thump.

Momiji spun around to face the door again. Immediately thinking, praying he only imagined the sound.

Thump. Thump. Then a grinding sound like something rolling across the floor. Thuck. It hit the door. Shuffling then the 'Thud, thud' of footsteps before.... CRASH.

Momiji jumped from his frozen stupor and reached for the doorknob again. He twisted it and was just about to push it open when another resounding crash filled his ears. Something had shattered against the door. He heard more trashing inside. 'Oh God please...not again. No...Not tonight...'

Bracing himself, Momiji pushed the door open to see the room in a shocking state. The sheets of the bed were tossed across the floor, books and stationary littered the once neat table and floor. The lamp that was standing there was smashed onto the ground and so were the few perfume bottles that stood on the drawers so that glass shards covered the wooden floorboards the and only thing protecting Momiji from them were his soft, wet and thin bunny slippers. A heaving black and white-haired teen in the middle of the mess, his back towards the door, his shoulders riding up and down with each harsh breath, shirt off and hands at his side, clenched into strong fists, bleeding freely with the blood dripping to the floor.

Momiji's breath caught, either with fear or the sheer beauty of the teen in from of him, or maybe both, he didn't know as Hatsuharu turned around to face the blond boy, a small sinister smile spreading across his face, sending shivers down the small boys spine and made him tremble uncontrollably. The crazed teen opened his mouth to speak.

"Come to play, little bunny?"


Sorry for the late update. Busy. Exams over though. Cheers!