"Alright, Momo, we'll be back later this evening," Koshiro said, giving her a hug. "Feel free to order whatever you'd like for supper."

"Thank you, Papa," Momo said, smiling at him before turning to hug Sabine. "You both have a nice time!"

"We'll try, liebe Momo," Sabine said, returning the hug with affection before sighing. "It's a pity, needing to go out when you just got back!"

"Yes," Koshiro agreed, "but we won't be back too late tonight, I'd say by nine at the latest. So perhaps we can all sit together after we get back, and you can tell us more about your trip!"

"Ja, that would be wunderbar!" Sabine agreed, her eyes shining. "Und you can show us more of your pictures, Momo!"

Momo smiled, nodding her head. "That could be fun!"

"It's a plan, then," Koshiro said, smiling at her before looking at Sabine. "Are you ready?"

"Ja, I'm ready," Sabine said, taking her husband's arm. "Guten Tag, Momo! Tschuss!"

"Tschuss, Mama and Papa," Momo said, following them to the door and closing it behind them. Normally she would have been disappointed to see them go...but not today.

Taking a deep breath, Momo pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the time, then sent a quick text:

'I'm home, so any time you're free! Could we actually video chat?'

As she hit send, Momo let out a huge breath. Overall she felt she'd done a good job compartmentalizing while on her trip; for the most part, she'd been able to enjoy her time exploring the city with her class.

But in her downtime, and each night before she'd fallen asleep, her thoughts had gone back to her father's desk and everything she'd found there. Questions had drifted through her mind, questions she was no closer to answering now than the first moment she'd laid eyes on Dr. Sohma's letter.

But amidst her uncertainty, there had been one thing that she was sure of: she needed to talk to Momiji.

He knew. There was no way he didn't, young as he had to have been when everything...changed. All these years, he'd been on his own, separated from her and their mother...and he knew. He had to know. Seeing those pictures, seeing those reports...

Thinking about the way Momiji had looked at her, back when he said he would always be her brother...he knew.

And it was time that she understood, too.

Her phone pinged, and she glanced down at her phone with a rapidly pounding heart:

'Give me half an hour, but that will work.'

Momo beamed.

'I can't wait to talk to you!'

'Me either, I look forward to hearing everything!'

As Momo slipped her phone back into her pocket, she took a deep breath. She knew he was talking about her trip, and that there was no way that he actually knew why she wanted to talk, or why she wanted it to be a video chat instead of a call...but the enthusiasm was appreciated.

She needed that enthusiasm. As much as she was determined to do this, as much as she needed to do this, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't scared. For so much of her life, Momiji had been there; a presence in the background, someone she'd always found fascinating. That fun, spirited, sweet boy who had always looked so much like her mother, always looked like someone she wanted to know. Someone she'd wanted to be like. Someone she wanted...to be her brother.

She'd considering him the brother of her heart for years, ever since that day his second year of high school when the two of them had sat together in that little park in the Sohma estate, Momo shyly stumbling over her words as she told him her silly wish.

And all that time...he'd actually been her brother, and known it, too. What she'd most dearly wanted, he'd wanted, too...but he'd known it always should have been theirs.


As she booted up her laptop, Momo was aware that her hands were shaking. She felt confident she was making the right choice; she had to talk to someone, and the one she most trusted to be honest with her was Momiji. Whatever his reasons for keeping it from her, she knew that their father had to be involved; Momiji had been so eager and happy to spend time with her once she was allowed that looking back, Momo felt Koshiro had to have intentionally made Momiji avoid her.

It was admittedly hard not to feel angry, knowing that. And as determined as Momo was to talk to her father about everything she'd found, she still had no idea how to even begin.

Momiji was the right choice. She just had to keep her nerve, and talk to him, exactly the way she'd practiced.

There was no way he wouldn't be happy, knowing she knew...right?

Momo closed her eyes, trying to imagine Momiji's reaction. He was sure to be surprised at first, but what would come after that? Would it go straight to joy? Would he be nervous, afraid she was angry with him for concealing it?

Would he be embarrassed?

...Sad?

Momo took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she stared at her contacts list, and at the picture next to the little 'offline' next to Momiji's name. It was a picture of the two of them, taken the last time Momiji had been visiting Japan the previous summer.

The last time they'd seen each other in person, over a year ago now.

The little circle beside Momiji's name suddenly flicked from black to green, and Momo felt her heart start racing. Seventeen years...it had taken seventeen years. But now, finally, they would be on the same page.

Finally, they would both know.

Momo took another breath, then accepted the incoming call. Immediately her screen was taken over by that familiar smiling face, the face she'd always known and loved.

The face that she saw every day, on her mother. Their mother. Yes, their eyes were different colors; yes, Momiji's hair was yellower; and yes, Momiji had an ever so slightly Japanese cast to his features...but there was no question. He looked so very much like Sabine, far more than Momo herself. He and Sabine even had the same smile.

And all this time, Momo had let herself be convinced it was only a coincidence. That all of it was only a coincidence.

"Hallo, Momo!"

Momiji's voice was as cheerful as his face, and Momo was soon smiling at him, too. He had always made her smile; it was hard not to smile, when talking to someone she loved so very, very deeply.

"Hello, Momiji," she said, her voice and eyes bright. "It's so wonderful to see you!"

More than he could possibly know.

"It's good to see you too, Momo! I've been thinking about you all week, I hope you had a wunderbar time in Korea! It makes me almost jealous, actually; as much as I enjoyed Kyoto and Nara, it would have been exciting to have a chance to go somewhere so exotic!"

Momo giggled. "Momiji, you live in Germany!"

"So? Korea is still exotic, compared to Japan!" But he was laughing, too, and that laughter continued to echo in his eyes once he stopped. "So, what all did you do? I want to hear everything!"


They sat talking for a long time, Momiji listening with interest as Momo told her about her four days in Korea: the sights, the history, the food. She showed him the souvenirs that she'd gotten for Momiji and Hans, his boyfriend of five years, and promised to send them off in the coming week. And she sent him several of her favorite pictures, telling him all about where they were taken, and what her class was doing.

The whole time, Momo kept watching him. Watching his eager, questioning expression when he was curious about something, his bright grin and the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. The moments when he was thoughtful, or even wistful, as he commented about his own class trip, or his own time in high school.

So many expressions, so very much like their mother's.

Once the class trip was exhausted, she asked Momiji how things were in Berlin, and what he and Hans had been up to. And it was her turn to smile as Momiji told her about the start of the season for the orchestra where Hans was a cellist, about their recent visit to the city of Leipzig to visit Hans' older sister and her family, and, at a very high level, about Momiji's own job at the German branch of their father's company.

"Don't worry, Momo, I won't bore you too much with the details; I know business is not the most interesting, for you," he said with his eyes dancing.

And once again, Momo found herself wondering just how she'd never put the pieces together. She knew that Momiji worked for her father's company, but she'd never really thought about why, or any of the implications behind it. It had seemed like a happy accident; while her father was the CEO, he obviously didn't handle the hiring, not even in the Japanese branch. She had thought there was maybe name recognition involved, but now...while the reports and letter in Momiji's file had proved he earned and deserved his job, had Koshiro pushed for him to take it?

Was he trying to push for something more?

Momo's father had taken over the company from his father. Someday, Koshiro himself would retire, and then...

"Momo?"

Momo realized Momiji was giving her a worried look, and she realized with a blush she'd been spacing out again.

"I'm sorry, Momiji, what were you saying?"

"Just something about work," Momiji said, studying her carefully. "But that's not important right now."

Momo shifted awkwardly, suddenly uncomfortable under his thoughtful scrutiny. And his voice didn't make it any better as he asked,

"Momo, is everything alright?"

Is everything alright.

How was she supposed to even begin to answer that? What was she supposed to say, when less than a week had passed since her entire view of her family had been flipped on its head?

What was she supposed to say...except for the truth?

He was looking at her, so expectantly. So anxiously. So kindly...

Her brother.

Momo took a deep breath. "Momiji...do you remember when I called you, the other day? Before my trip?"

"The other night, you mean, at least for you?" Momiji asked, his voice neutral, and Momo nodded. "Ja, I remember, of course I do. You'd said everything was fine?"

A question, but also an accusation.

She nodded again. "It was...at least, in every way that mattered. At the time, anyway," she amended, realizing that if things were fine, they wouldn't be having this conversation. "But there was...there is...something I need to talk to you about. Something really, really, important."

She wanted to look down, but she wouldn't look away. She needed to see him, needed to watch him; that was why she'd wanted a video call, so she could see him, and his reactions. His face. See him, the way she'd always needed and wanted to see him.

Her brother.

Momiji's face was serious now, and so was his voice. "I'm listening, Momo. You know I'll always listen to you, whenever you need me."

'You know how much I always love to talk to my little sister.'

'I will always be your brother.'

Always.

He would always be there for her. That's what he'd said, always.

It was time.

Momo swallowed hard, then took another deep breath. "That night, I realized I didn't have my passport, for my trip. Mama and Papa had a dinner for Papa's work, but I caught Mama as she was leaving. She told me to look in Papa's desk, that she thought Papa kept them there, and if I couldn't find it then Papa would find it for me when they got home."

Momiji was sitting in silence, his expression inscrutable as he listened. Did he have any idea where she was going?

Was he already starting to guess?

"So...I did. Papa has never allowed me to look in his desk, or even be in his office without him, but Mama said it was ok, so I did. And when I was looking, I found...something else," she said, once again swallowing hard.

She could feel tension between them now; even through a computer screen and across thousands of miles, she could feel it. Momiji's hands were clasped and resting lightly against his mouth, his eyes locked on hers with that same inscrutable look, and his voice had an edge she'd never heard before as he softly asked, "what was it you found, Momo?"

Another breath. "I found...a locked box. Papa likes to keep things in boxes like that, and I had already found the keys, so I opened it. And it was full of pictures," she said, her voice equally soft. "Pictures, and papers; school records, health records, receipts, progress reports..." His eyes felt like they were boring into her now, and she could see the tension in his hands as she continued, "All of them of, about, or belonging to you."

Momiji was silent, and Momo continued, her voice starting to get louder and more emotional. "I know I shouldn't have been digging, but once I started looking, I couldn't stop. I didn't understand why Papa had any of it, much less all of it, and the further I went, the more I saw, the more confused I got. There was so much, Momiji; from Berlin, from Japan...pictures and papers going back..." she gulped again, staring straight into his eyes as she said, "A lifetime."

She could see that he was shaking now, a mild but intense tremor, running through those slim, elegant hands. Or maybe she just thought he was, because she was shaking, too.

"I found...pictures...of you...as a baby. With Papa. And I found...papers," she said, emotion making it hard to speak even with conviction on her side. "A German birth certificate...with your name. A family registry...with your name...above mine. A letter...from the Sohma family head...congratulating Mama and Papa...on the birth of their son!"

The words practically ripped out of Momo, and she couldn't hold back her tears any more. "You're their son, Momiji! You're Mama and Papa's son! You're not just some Sohma, not just someone we ever saw in passing, you're their son! You're my brother, Momiji, you're really my brother! And all this time, all my life, I never knew!"

Tears were pouring down Momo's face now, and she sniffled as she looked into the screen. "I never knew," she repeated, then broke down sobbing.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair! He should have been there, with all of them. They should have been a family, the way they were always meant to be. And even if that wasn't possible, even if there had never been a choice for Sabine, that was no excuse for them to keep him away from Momo.

"Ja..."

Momiji's voice was quiet and strained, but it cut through Momo's sobs and landed, painfully on her heart. Hiccupping, she wiped at her eyes and looked up, realizing at once that Momiji, too, was crying.

He was sitting as he had been, his hands still in front of his mouth, but tears were cascading down his cheeks as he looked at her. And when he spoke again, his voice was almost overflowing with emotion.

"That's right, Momo. You're right. But believe me when I say it was never my idea, never," he said, his voice getting rawer with each new word. "Could I have said anything, I would have, in a heartbeat. It was never my choice to deny you, never my choice...to pretend," he said, choking back a sob. "Had I had my say, you would have known from the very moment you were born...how much your big brother loved you. And always has."

Momo couldn't take it anymore, the sobs and tears coming too fast and intense to hold back. And amidst her own sobs, she could hear others; Momiji, crying right along with her.

"Why didn't he tell me?" Momo managed to say, the words spilling out between the sobs. "Why didn't he say? Even if Mama...couldn't...that doesn't explain me!"

She heard Momiji gulp. "Momo, what are you talking about?" he asked, and Momo sniffled again.

"There was a letter...in the box. From...Dr. Hatori Sohma. And it said...that Mama...had her memories of you...suppressed. That she..." Momo had to fight to keep the tears from overwhelming her before she burst out, "that she had to forget you!"

"Ach..." Momiji's voice was sad, so impossibly sad. Sadder than she'd ever heard him, or anyone else...but there was something else mingled in with the sadness, something that took her a minute, at first, to truly register.

Relief.

He was relieved. Relieved that she knew, that he didn't have to try and make an explanation for a situation where there was none. Sad, because...there was nothing else he could possibly be.

"So you know that, then," Momiji said, wiping his own eyes. "Then you know...why Papa felt things had to be this way."

Papa.

Not 'your papa,' the way it had always been, for over seven years.

'How are your mama and papa doing, Momo?'

'Did your papa get you something nice for your birthday?'

'Your papa stopped in at the office when he was in Berlin! He's looking well.'

Always 'your papa.' 'Your mama.'

Hers.

But now...

Somehow, that one word made it harder. Papa. He was Momiji's papa, too, just like hers, and he'd...kept him away! Provided for him, yes. Been there for him, yes...sometimes. But he'd shut him out, kept him away, kept her away. He was their papa, their papa, and he'd failed them both!

For the first time that week, Momo could feel white-hot anger bubbling inside of her. How could he have done that? However hard his decisions had been, however much he might have tried to do right by them all, how could Koshiro not have realized what he was doing was wrong? She'd wanted so badly to see Momiji, to know Momiji, to have Momiji be part of her life...and her father had stopped them. Even if it could have been justified when she was a child, years had passed since she should have been able to be trusted with the truth. She was seventeen years old, for goodness sake!

"No, I don't know!" she said, her voice raw and forceful. "I don't know...why he felt he had to keep you from me!" Tears were running down her face again, but she was too angry to care. "I don't...understand it, Momiji! I don't know...what happened. I don't know...why...Mama...had to forget...or how...they did it. But that...doesn't explain...keeping you...from me! I wanted...to know you!" she said, sobbing angrily. "I wanted...to know you...for so long, and he...wouldn't let me! For years, he wouldn't...let me...and then...when he finally did...he still...kept this from me! And he made...you...hide it...too!"

"Momo-"

"You're my brother, Momiji!" she cried. "You always have been! And I never knew! I asked you...to be my brother...and you already were! But I didn't know! And I still wouldn't know, if it hadn't been for an accident!"

She wiped her eyes, looking at Momiji. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I wanted to," Momiji said, his voice choked with emotion. "So many, many times. But you're a minor, Momo, and Papa-"

"And Papa said no," Momo said, her voice dripping with bitterness. Then she hiccupped again looking at the screen. "How old were you, Momiji?"

"What?" he asked, not initially understanding, and Momo sniffled.

"When Mama...had to forget," she said, swallowing hard, "How old...were you?"

There was a silence, broken only by the sound of sniffling from both of them. Then finally, Momiji took a deep breath. "It was just after my third birthday."

Three. Three years old, when he'd lost his mother...and his home.

Momo couldn't take it anymore. "Why? Why did she have to forget you, Momiji? Why couldn't they just...make it work some other way? Why did you have to be kept away from me? In the letter, Dr. Sohma said Mama needed to avoid you at first, but that after a month or so she ought to be ok to see you, and that was just Mama...why did they have to do it, and keep me away, too? I just want to understand," she said, her voice, by the end, trailing off frail and broken.

"Was there anything else you found? Anything else that talked about Mama's...condition?" Momiji asked, and Momo could tell immediately that he was probing, trying to tell how much she knew.

So he definitely knew, then.

"No, there was nothing. That's why I want to you to tell me, please," Momo said, her eyes once more overflowing with tears. "I know it's nothing to what you went through, Momiji, and maybe it's selfish of me to be angry-"

"-No, it's not, Momo, it's not selfish at all," Momiji said, his voice once more choked up.

"-But I just...I just...you're my family, Momiji! We're your family! And even if we couldn't be all together, you should have had more. You should have had me!" Momo voice was fierce and shaking, and to her surprise, Momiji laughed.

"But I have had you, Momo. Even if you didn't know it...I have always had you. You have always been with me, always been my little sister. Everything we managed to have, I have cherished," he said, beaming at her through teary eyes. "And I always will."

In spite of her anger and in spite of her tears, Momo smiled. "I'm glad," she whispered, "But I still...I still..."

"I know," he said, his voice almost as soft. "And I wish...I could tell you."

Momo straightened up. "But you can tell me, Momiji! You can trust me, you know you can!"

"Ja, I know. But it's not that simple, Momo, not even close. There are so many complications-"

"-So tell me, and let me try and understand them! I'm not a child, I know that things can be...hard," she said, swallowing. "And I know they can be messy. But I still want to know."

"I can't tell you, Momo," Momiji said, his voice tight. "If it just involved me, I would in a heartbeat. But it doesn't, and I can't. Not without..." he hesitated, and Momo's expression hardened.

"Papa?"

"Ja. You aren't a child, Momo, but this is so much more complicated than you realize," Momiji said, his voice heavy with resignation. "And it's possible he'll want to tell you himself, once he knows how much you know."

Momo's hands clenched into fists. "I don't know if I want him to," she whispered, but her eyes were flashing. "He kept it from me for so long...I want to hear it from you, Momiji, please!" she said, her expression pleading.

She could see the struggle on Momiji's face, and for an instant she was hopeful. Then he shook his head.

"Nein, not yet. I have to talk to Papa, Momo," he said. "He has to know...what you saw, and agree."

Momo swallowed hard; she had known that was bound to happen, but she wished there was another way.

"Do you really have to, Momiji?" she asked, and he nodded.

"If you want me to tell you anything else, then ja. If not...if you're fine leaving things as they are...then I won't say a word, I promise."

He gave her a little smile at that, but she couldn't return it. Instead she sat quietly for a moment, weighing her options; keeping her father in the dark and knowing Momiji was her brother, but knowing there were things he still couldn't say...or telling her father, and hopefully learning the entire truth.

There could only be one answer, she realized. She couldn't go on like this, especially feeling as she did about their father. No matter what, they needed to clear the air...and that meant he had to know.

"I want to know the truth," she said, looking into Momiji's eyes. "I want to know...what happened. And why they had to do that, to Mama...and to you...and to me."

Momiji was silent in turn, then he asked, "Do you want to tell Papa yourself, Momo? Or would you rather I do it?"

Momo swallowed. Given the choice... "Could you do it, Momiji? But only if you can do it soon, otherwise..." she swallowed again. "I can't keep acting normally around him, Momiji, not just now."

"Ja, I understand." Momiji said. "Is he home?"

"He and Mama are at a business dinner, but he said they should be home by nine," Momo said.

"Two," Momiji murmured to himself, and he nodded. "I'll send him a message and see if we can talk tonight, he and I. I can't promise anything, Momo, but I'll talk to him...and then I'll let you know. And I imagine Papa will, too," he said, a wry smile on his face, and Momo swallowed again. She wished with every fiber of her being it was possible to skip this part...

But she'd deal with it all to finally have her answers.

"Thank you, Momiji," she said quietly, and Momiji smiled at her, a smile that was bright and blinding even with his face streaked with tears.

"I will always do whatever I can to help you, Momo. After all...you are my little sister."