Momo was eventually able to fall asleep, but her sleep was fitful and unsatisfying, filled with dreams of closed doors and blank, unknowing faces. When her alarm went off the next morning she slept right through it; it wasn't until she felt a large hand, gently but firmly shaking her shoulder, that she finally woke, sitting up groggily as she asked, "Papa?"

"That's right, Momo," her father sad, his voice affectionate. "Your alarm was going off for several minutes, I hope this means you didn't stay up too late last night," he said, studying her face and the dark circles beneath her eyes.

Momo squirmed anxiously under his scrutiny, flicking her eyes to the side so she didn't have to meet his gaze. "I didn't," she said, "but I did have a hard time falling asleep," she admitted, knowing that in that, at least, she was telling the truth. It had been very hard indeed, falling asleep, when she had so very many things on her mind.

But her father had no way of knowing any of that, though he still gave her a knowing smile. "Well, going on your high school class trip is a very exciting time, so I can imagine the anticipation making it hard to sleep. And you are a very lucky girl, Momo; back when I was in high school, we only went to Kyoto. I would have loved the chance to go to Seoul...but just now you had better get yourself ready, so you don't run the risk of being left behind yourself."

Momo nodded, and Koshiro straightened up, giving her one last smile. "Mama and I will see you downstairs when you're dressed. Is this your bag?" he asked, gesturing to the large suitcase sitting by her door, and Momo nodded again. "I'll just take this downstairs now, we'll make sure it gets into the car."

"Thank you, Papa," Momo said almost mechanically. As the door closed behind him she sighed, then slid out of bed and slowly started to put on her uniform. She had originally been so excited and happy that her parents were going to have breakfast with her before her trip, but now...

How was she supposed to act normally, facing them after all that she'd learned?


"I wish you'd try to eat more, meine Momo," Sabine said, looking at her with a slightly troubled expression. "Surely you don't want to be travelling on an empty stomach?"

Momo sighed and looked at the table. It was full of many of her favorite breakfast foods: rolls, butter, jam, honey, pastries, sliced meats, cheese, and seasonal fruit; her friends had always thought her family's choice of breakfast foods bizarre, but Momo had always loved them. Sabine might have lived in Japan since she was in college, but in her own home, there were some German customs she'd very firmly maintained, starting with breakfast.

And Momo could tell that her mother had been thinking of Momo specifically in some of her choices; those were Momo's favorite bear claws, and Momo's favorite salami. There was even orange juice, her breakfast drink of choice. But none of it appealed, no matter how much she wished it were otherwise.

"I'm sorry, Mama," she said at last, looking up and giving her mother an apologetic smile. "Maybe it's because I didn't sleep well, but I'm just...not very hungry."

"Well, you should at least take a roll with you in the car, ja?" Sabine asked. "Maybe make yourself a little sandwich, in case you get hungry on the way?"

After a moment Momo nodded, more to have something other than her mother to look at than anything.

And as Momo set to work making her sandwich, Sabine sighed, then looked at her husband.

"Just think, Koshiro, it will be just us for the next four days! I don't know what I'm going to do, having the house to myself for so long!"

Koshiro laughed. "Well, I'm sure you'll find something to do to stay occupied. You're always welcome to visit me at the office, though, if you get too lonely."

"Ja, I'm sure I shall," Sabine said, laughing. "Und I suppose it will be good, me getting used to having the house to myself! We only have a year und a half until our kleine Momo graduates, after all, und then...it will be just me then, too," she said, giving Momo an affectionate look. "It's times like this that I could wish you had a brother or sister, meine Momo."

Momo had never been so happy to be making a sandwich; as it was, she almost dropped her knife. For one fleeting second she wanted to look up, to see what her father's face looked like; had he reacted at all, hearing those words?

Had he ever reacted, any time Sabine had ever made any wistful reference to having a bigger family? Momo knew this wasn't the first time Sabine had said something like that, and when she was younger, she had often asked her mother why it was that Momo didn't have any siblings.

'Because that's just the way things worked out for us, mein Liebling. But we have you, und you are all Papa und I could ever want.'

What had Koshiro ever looked like, when Sabine said those words? Was the fact Momo couldn't remember a sign that he'd long-since taught himself not to react?

Or just a sign that Momo had never actually been watching?


"Auf wiedersehen, meine Momo," Sabine said, hugging her daughter tightly on the steps down from the Sohmas' home. "Be sure you let us know when you arrive, und make sure you are listening to your teachers. Take lots of pictures, have lots of fun, und we will see you on Saturday!"

"Auf wiedersehen, Mama," Momo said, hugging her tightly in return. "I will, and I'll be sure to bring back some souvenirs!"

"Safe travels! Tschuss!"

Waving goodbye to her mother, Momo headed down the steps to the waiting car and slid into the backseat beside her father, tucking her legs in before the driver closed the door. As the driver headed around to get in the car himself Momo took a deep breath, then smiled as she looked over at Koshiro.

He was smiling back at her. "Well, Momo, even if it's a very early morning for you, it's nice to have the chance to ride together, isn't it?"

Although the hour was early for Sabine and Momo, Koshiro was always up and on his way to the office at this time. Being the CEO of a large company meant long hours, and for Momo's entire life, she had known her father as someone who was always coming and going. She had asked him once why he was always gone so early, why he was never there to have breakfast with her and Sabine;

'Because this way, I get more that I need to done early, so I can spend more time in the evening with my family.'

She had always felt special, hearing that; all of her friends' fathers worked long hours, regardless of their profession, but her father had always done what he could to make time for her.

Had he been splitting that time, all along? Was the real reason he always went into work so early so he could have time to also spend with Momiji?

Did he ever sometimes go into the Sohma estate, and eat breakfast with his son?

"I am sorry you didn't get more sleep last night, Momo. I'm afraid you'll likely have a rough time travelling, though perhaps you can ask for a window seat and take a nap on the flight. You look exhausted," he said, giving her a sympathetic smile.

Momo swallowed, then smiled sheepishly back. "Maybe I'll do that, Papa. I do feel as though I could fall asleep right here," she admitted, looking back down at her lap. "And I do want to enjoy myself this trip. We're not doing as much today as the next few days, but I want to be able to remember it all."

"Then I'd try to nap on the plane. I'm sure your classmates will all be very excited, but you should be an old hand at flying by now," he said, chuckling. "And there really isn't much to see between here and Seoul, anyway."

"No," Momo agreed. "Not really."

How many times had she flown, over the course of her life? How many trips had she been on, with her family?

With most of her family, anyway.

"Momo?"

Momo realized her father had been talking to her, and she looked over guiltily. "Sorry, Papa, what was that?"

He was still smiling. "I said I hope you have fun, Momo. Seoul is an exciting place, and there's a lot to see. You and your classmates are sure to have a good time there, and Mama and I look forward to hearing about your trip when you get back."

"Are you going to be home on Saturday, Papa?" she asked, and Koshiro hesitated.

"Your flight gets in at noon?"

Momo nodded.

"Well, I should be able to see you after you get home, then," Koshiro said, smiling at her. "Mama and I have an engagement Saturday afternoon, but we don't need to leave until after three, so you'll have to tell us all about your trip as soon as you get home."

Momo nodded again. "That should work, Papa," she said, then took a deep breath. "That should work well, because I was also planning to call Momiji after I got back, and later in the afternoon is a better time to reach out to him, with the time difference."

She didn't know what she expected from that comment; after all, her father knew that she and Momiji were close. What she got was a slight pause, and then the same slightly awkward reaction she always got when she mentioned Momiji.

"Oh, you are? Does he know your plan? I'm sure he's keeping very busy these days, Momo, so you should make sure you're not interrupting anything important before you call."

"He knows," Momo said, her voice quiet. "He told me I could call him on Saturday after I was home, that he'd be available to talk, if I wanted."

"Well, that's very nice of him. But still, you should make sure you're not taking up too much of his time."

"Don't worry, Papa, I won't."

The car pulled up in front of Momo's school, and Momo looked out the window to see the large gathering of second-year students standing in the courtyard. In spite of her preoccupation with what was happening with her family, Momo could feel a little flutter of excitement inside of her; it had been over a year since her grade had voted on and committed to going to Seoul, and while Momo was an experienced traveler, she'd never actually been to the nearby country of South Korea.

So far, all of her international travel had been to Germany: site of her father's secondary office, her mother's homeland. The home of Momo's grandparents.

And the home...of her brother.

Momo's fingers tightened on the door handle, then she let go as she leaned across the backseat of the car to kiss her father's cheek.

"Goodbye, Papa, I'll see you when I get back."

"Goodbye, Momo; have a safe and wonderful trip. Mama and I will look forward to seeing you when you get back."

As she climbed out of the car and took her suitcase from the driver, Momo took a deep breath. She'd be the first to admit that the timing of all of this was terrible and wonderful all at the same time; terrible, because she had to process everything she'd learned when she ought to be enjoying her class trip, and wonderful, because it meant she had four days to think about it before she had to face either one of her parents again.

She would do her best not to let it distract her too much, but it at this point, it would be hard to say what would win out: wonderful, or terrible.


"Really, Tadame, are you sure you don't mind?" Momo asked, settling herself into a seat by the plane's window. "If you really want to sit here-"

"It's ok, Momo, don't worry about it!" her friend said, smiling at her. "No offense, but you look pretty beat; I know I had a tough time getting up this morning, but you look like you didn't sleep at all."

Momo tried to smile at that, and mostly succeeded. "I didn't sleep much," she admitted, ducking her head. "I totally forgot about my passport until last night, and Mama and Papa had a business dinner. I only barely caught Mama before she left, and she didn't know exactly where the passports were, so I ended up having to dig through Papa's office looking for them. Papa called me later to tell me where to find it, but the whole thing took much longer than I would have liked."

"I bet," Tadame said, looking at her sympathetically. "Was your dad mad?"

"Well, he probably had to step out of the dinner to call me, but they can go on for a long time, so I'm sure he didn't mind-"

"No, about you going through his office! I'm pretty sure my dad would have been furious if I did that."

"Oh," Momo said, blushing. "No, he wasn't mad, and Mama's actually the one who told me to do it. He was very...understanding," she said after a moment, and Tadame let out a relieved breath.

"Well, good! I'm glad you didn't get into trouble for it, it would have sucked to start off the trip with something like that."

"Yes, it would've," Momo agreed, but she wasn't thinking about her father's anger right then. She'd never actually seen her father really angry; stern, yes, and disappointed, of course, but he wasn't the type to yell, or raise his voice. He'd always been very even tempered...even when he was upset.

'As I've always said, my desk is not a place for you.'

Yes...he'd always said. About his office, and especially about his desk. She could remember being a playful little girl and deciding to hide from him under his desk once; when he'd found her, he hadn't yelled, but he'd still managed to impress upon her how very important his office was, and how she was never supposed to go in there without him.

'I know I can trust you to respect that, Momo, so I'm not going to lock the door. Please don't give me reason to change that.'

As she settled against the window and closed her eyes, Momo couldn't help but be amazed that he had had that trust in her. For her entire life, her father had been carrying an immense secret; it would have been so very easy to simply to lock the door, or lock the desk, and just keep the key with him when he wasn't at home.

Why was it that he hadn't?

She thought about her mother, and the way her parents were when they were together. Somehow, she felt that the answer had to involve Sabine; was it because they had always been a partnership? Because, ironically, Koshiro had never wanted to seem like he had something to hide? Momo knew that her mother rarely if ever went into her father's office, but she'd had no qualms telling Momo to go in and look for her passport; if Sabine hadn't been on her way out of the house, then it was likely Sabine would have gone hunting for it herself. Because of course Sabine was allowed in her husband's office, if she actually needed to go in.

It wasn't as though Koshiro had anything to hide from her, either...or so Sabine had to think.

Momo thought about that non-descript black box, the same sort of fireproof box scattered in multiple places around the house. Momo had one in her room, where she kept her most precious treasures; there was the one with the passports and other important documents in the office, the one with the family registry and family papers in her parents' room.

And the one, sealed away in her father's desk, containing the only evidence Momo had ever seen that her parents had a second child. A first child, even; the child they'd had for nearly twenty-five years.

Had Sabine ever seen that box, tucked away in Koshiro's desk? Did she ever ask him about it, or wonder what was inside, given its position in the same drawer as the rest of their family files? Had he told her a lie? Or just smiled and told her not to worry about it?

What would Koshiro have told Momo, if she'd told him she'd seen it?

Momo thought about her father's voice the night before, when he'd called her from the dinner. Years in the business world had made her father a master at disguising his emotions; he could be feeling anything on the inside, while projecting the same calm authority he always had on the outside. He didn't usually wear his 'business mask' around his family, but Momo had definitely suspected over the years that at least part of her father's 'even temper' was more because of his professional experience and less because of an innate lack of temper.

But last night, that mask had slipped. Not only had he called her, something he never did when he was at a business engagement, he'd sounded anxious. At the time, she hadn't been entirely sure; she'd wondered if her own guilt and paranoia was making her hear things that weren't actually there. But after she'd gotten off the phone with Momiji and laid back in her bed, as she stared into the darkness and turned everything over in her mind, she'd slowly but steadily become more confident.

She had heard it, she was sure. Koshiro had been tense, and nervous; his voice had had an edge at odds with the calmness he was trying to project. He'd been worried, so worried he was unable to conceal it.

What would he have said, if she'd told him the truth? If she'd told him what she'd seen?

Momo let out a slow, soft breath. She'd spent so long last night thinking about this, trying to figure out her next steps. What was she supposed to do, now that she knew the family life she'd always known was a lie?

No, she corrected herself, it wasn't a lie...exactly. Her parents were still her parents, and they had always loved her. That part had always been true, and whatever else she was feeling, she knew that part was still true. But it hadn't been the whole truth, either.

Her father had hidden it from her. Momiji had hidden it from her. And she knew there were also others; Dr. Sohma knew, and the family head. Undoubtedly others in the family knew, and Momo found herself wondering if that was part of the reason her household had always been so minimally involved in extended Sohma family doings. Momo had always assumed it was because of Sabine; they always went to Germany during winter break, and in spite of Sabine's three decades in Japan, Momo knew there were ways her mother still struggled to fit in.

But had there been more to it? Had Koshiro been purposely trying to keep them all apart?

She thought back to the letter from Dr. Sohma, wishing once again that she'd thought to take pictures of what she'd seen. He'd mentioned 'suppression,' and in the context of the rest of the letter it was clear he meant memory suppression. Sabine had needed to be separated from Momiji for a time in the immediate aftermath of the 'procedure,' whatever it was...but had there needed to be more than that? Had Sabine reacted badly and needed even more separation?

How easy had it been, for her to forget that she'd ever had a child? And how easy would it be, for her to be reminded that that child existed?

Momo's heart ached just thinking about it, and once again she found herself wondering why. Why had it been necessary? What could possibly have happened, or been happening, to justify making a person forget their child?

Momo thought about the sad way her mother would smile at her when she talked about that 'hypothetical' brother or sister. The wistful tone in her mother's voice. Years had passed since Momo had asked her why she was an 'only child;' now that Momo was so much older, would Sabine actually answer, if Momo asked why again?

Had they wanted to have a bigger family, and been unable? Or had they wanted to have a bigger family...and it simply wasn't advisable?

Had there been a time...once...when Momo had almost been forgotten, too?

Momo swallowed hard, trying to imagine living a life like Momiji's. A life where she was unknown to her mother, where she saw her father in fits and starts, where he paid for everything but couldn't be present. He might work long hours and always had, but he'd still been there; she'd seen him at the end of the day, and there had been time on weekends. Time she'd been able to see him at work, and family vacations.

How much time had Momiji had, compared to all of that?

But if she had been forgotten...would she have been allowed to know Momiji, then? Would they have been able to grow up together, to grow up as actual siblings? Would that have made it easier for him, knowing he wasn't alone?

She thought again about Momiji's smile. He'd always smiled when he saw her, going back to the very first time she remembered meeting him. He'd always seemed so very happy...

Had he actually felt happy, seeing her, and knowing the life she lived? The life he'd been denied? Was he genuinely happy to see her and call her his sister when she'd gotten everything that should also have been his?

Or was Momiji, like their father, a master at wearing a mask?

Momo sighed, then squeezed her eyes even more tightly shut. There would be time to think about that all more later...but right now, she needed to get some sleep.