Momiji's hands were shaking as he ended the call, emotions swirling around inside of him like a tornado. He had never expected that conversation to be easy, and he hadn't allowed himself to hope it would go well, but he had never imagined it would go like that.

Before he did literally anything else, he flipped open his contacts list, then raised his phone to his ear.

"Is everything alright, Momiji?"

Hatori's voice was concerned, but tired, and Momiji winced as he looked at the time. It was getting close to eleven in Japan now, he had quite probably woken Hatori up.

But he needed to know.

"I'm sorry for calling so late, Hatori, but did my papa contact you at all tonight?" Momiji asked, fighting once more to keep his voice neutral.

On the other end of the line, he could hear Hatori's voice sharpen. "Yes, he did. What's going on?"

"What did he want?" Momiji asked, ignoring the question for the moment. He needed to set his mind at ease, before he did literally anything else.

Or know if he needed to worry

"He wanted to ask if there was still a moratorium on outsiders learning about the Curse, and if I was still called on to suppress any memories. I told him that it's preferred for it not to be discussed, but it's not forbidden, particularly among family members, and that I didn't do that anymore as a rule. I did ask if he had any new concerns about your mother, but he told me not to worry."

Momiji was torn between anger and relief. Relief, because Momo's memories were safe...and fury, because Koshiro had ever considered it, for even a second.

"What's wrong, Momiji?" Hatori's voice was sharper still and even more concerned, and Momiji let out a breath.

"Nothing I can talk about, Hatori, I'm sorry, but...you've set my mind at ease, so thank you, for that. I promise, it's nothing you need to trouble yourself with."

"It's no trouble, I assure you. If anything changes, don't hesitate to contact me."

"I will, thank you. But Hatori..." Momiji hesitated, then asked, his voice firm, "Would you please let me know, if he asks you anything about memory suppression again?"

There was a long silence, then Hatori said, "I will."

"Thank you. Good night."

"Good night, Momiji."


After ending the call with Hatori, Momiji let his phone fall to the couch beside him, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his face into his hands. He knew that he ought to reach out to Momo, to let her know he and Koshiro were done talking and to let her know the verdict...but he couldn't, just then.

He knew he shouldn't be surprised, by any of it. If there was one thing that had been constant in his life, going back to his earliest memories, it was that Koshiro was always going to do whatever he could to protect Sabine. Koshiro was used to making his own decisions and his own judgements; it didn't matter what anyone else said, or thought. Koshiro would listen, usually, but Momiji strongly doubted he often, if ever, changed his mind once he'd made it up.

And his mind had been made up on this for over twenty-two years.

Momiji let out a deep, ragged breath as he thought about their conversation, about all the emotion his father had actually let fly. That wasn't like Koshiro; he had always been the master as disguising how he felt. But Momiji had heard it all, felt it all; the anger, the fear, the disappointment.

The cold, detached hostility.

Momiji didn't doubt his father believed everything he'd said. That had always been Koshiro's mantra; he was the head of the family, it was his job to take care of them all. His job to make things right.

His fault that everything had happened.

Koshiro was the Sohma, not Sabine; it was his fault the Curse had ever touched their lives, his fault their happiness had been destroyed. His...and his alone. And he had never let himself forget it.

Momiji's fingers clenched. He supposed he should be grateful for that; his father had never once blamed him. Koshiro had never held Momiji accountable; it wasn't his fault he'd been born Possessed. Compared to Kyo, or to Rin, he'd had it easy. In spite of everything, his father had loved him...and shouldered the blame himself.

Love, and guilt, and fear. Individually powerful motivators, and collectively, almost unstoppable. Koshiro loved them all, Momiji knew. And he feared for them.

But he was wrong. Wrong, to have so little faith in Momo. Wrong, to automatically assume the worst.

The time they had all lost was gone, never to be made up. Those years of their lives...were over. But they didn't have to keep sacrificing, going forward.

Lowering his hands, Momiji stood up and walked across the living room, over to the wall that led to their bedroom. It was covered with a collage of framed photos: photos of Momiji and Hans together, of them with their friends. Pictures of Hans' parents and brother, of his sister with her husband and their children. Pictures of their friends. A picture of the two of them with Momiji's favorite Sohma cousins, taken just a few months prior at Yuki and Machi's wedding.

A picture of Momiji's family.

It had been his idea, to hang that portrait at the end of the row. Hans had asked Momiji if he was sure about it, but Momiji had held fast. He wanted to include it...even if it hurt him.

The picture was old. A family portrait, taken when Momo was just a little girl; her, held in Koshiro's arms, and Sabine holding onto him. A happy, smiling portrait of a loving family.

A family he'd never been allowed to be a part of.

A family he was, even now, being forced away from.

Momiji's jaw tightened as he looked at the photo. There had been a reason for choosing such an old photo: because Hans' family, and all of their German friends, believed Momiji's mother was dead. He hated to lie...but the truth wasn't an option.

The truth had never been an option.

'I'm sorry, Momiji, but Momo has been...asking questions about you.'

'My only regret is not putting my foot down with Momo sooner.'

'I can't do anything to take this knowledge away from Momo.'

'You know that, Momiji. You know why I acted the way I did.'

'There was never any choice!'

'You are not to go against me on this, am I clear?'

'It is my right to make decisions about my children, just like it's my right to make decisions about my home, and my business.'

'It is my right.'

'You are not to tell.'

"You are not to see her'

'You are not to talk to her, am I understood?'

'You are not to let them see you.'

'You are not to go against me on this.'

'You are not...'

'You are not...'

'You are not!'

The white-hot rage was sudden, blinding, and all-consuming. Momiji couldn't see and couldn't think, couldn't feel himself or his body, couldn't hear beyond the roaring in his ears.

There was nothing...until the pain.


Later that evening, Momiji was dragging as he unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment.

"I'm home," he called out in tired Japanese; as much as he didn't feel like it just then, he and Hans always spent the first hour or so after they were both home speaking only Japanese to help Hans along with his comprehension.

Usually.

"What is wrong with you?" Hans' response was delivered in clipped, emotional German, and Momiji winced as his boyfriend came striding over, his eyes full of worry and upset that didn't diminish in the slightest as he took in the sight of Momiji's wrapped hand.

"Hans, I-"

"Nein. First, you tell me you cannot come to the concert, that something has come up. This is fine, I know that things come up, especially in business. It was a disappointment, ja, but it is also life." Hans took a breath, then scowled. "Then you message later to tell me you've had a minor accident and are going to the emergency room to get it taken care of. This is less fine, and of course I didn't see it at the time since I was performing, but accidents also happen, and I'm relieved you were taking care of yourself and let me know. Then I get home," Hans said, taking Momiji's good hand and dragging him towards their room, "And I find this!"

Momiji couldn't help but cringe at the dueling anger and concern on Hans' face, and he admittedly couldn't blame him. Though Momiji had done his best to clean up, he had been significantly hampered by what he'd soon enough conceded was a broken hand.

Several of the framed photos lay on the floor, some of them with cracked frames and broken glass. Momiji had tucked them up against the wall and cleaned up the glass, but he hadn't known what to do about the pictures themselves, or the large bloody smear on the wall, left by his knuckles where the picture of his family used to hang.

"What is wrong with you?" Hans repeated, looking at him. "And why didn't you answer your phone?"

Momiji gave him an apologetic look. "Because I couldn't? I texted you as soon as I could-"

"And told me you'd explain when you got back, ja. That was over an hour ago, Momiji! You couldn't call me in over an hour? Did it not occur to you, even once, that I'd be worried, coming home and seeing this?"

The expression on Hans' face was so worried and wounded as he gestured at the wall that it tore right at Momiji's heart. Of course he'd known; that was why he'd told Hans he was going to the A&E to start with. But when he'd tried to think of how to explain, he'd come up blank; even the short story was too much just to say over text and would only spark more worry.

In his defense, he hadn't thought it would take so long, but he doubted that would be any comfort to Hans, who looked more upset than Momiji could remember ever seeing him.

"I'm sorry, Schatzi" Momiji said, his voice soft and contrite. "Ja, of course I thought you'd be worried; it was my hope that I'd be home before you, but it was surprisingly crowded...I guess a lot of people were having accidents today," he said, trying to smile but getting a stone-faced expression in response.

He wasn't surprised.

"What happened, Momiji?" Hans asked, crossing his arms and looking at him. "I was thinking you'd tripped and fallen into it somehow, but now..." his eyes went from the wrappings on Momiji's hand to the bloody smear on the wall and back to Momiji's face, his anger fading as he said, "Tell me, please."

Momiji sighed, then held up his hand. "The short answer is...I punched the wall."

Hans stared at him. "You punched the wall."

Momiji nodded, then corrected himself. "Technically I think I punched a picture, but the wall was involved, too."

The wall, the picture, a fair amount of glass, the concrete the wall was made of...it was no wonder it had hurt so much.

Hans was still staring at him, then sighed. "Come, sit. Let me get you something to drink, and then you will tell me the long answer."

As Momiji headed to the couch and Hans to the kitchen, Momiji called after him, "This is why I told you I'd explain when I got home!"

There was no answer from the kitchen, but Hans returned shortly and handed Momiji a glass. "Here. Drink. And then talk," he said, frowning at Momiji. "Whatever is going on with you, I need to hear it."


Momiji had always known, somewhere in the deepest corners of his heart, that dating would never be easy, for him. Even without him being hung up on Tohru, even without him being bound by the Curse, his situation was complex; he was half-German and half-Japanese, a boy who lived on the 'Inside' of the Sohma family estate behind a massive locked gate and basically had no parents. Explaining his situation would always be tricky.

It was easy, when he was casually dating. In high school, he had dated a lot; he had always been very popular, and following his growth spurt that popularity manifested in the form of a lot of romantic interest.

Momiji had always been the one asked out; while he loved the idea of dating and had been almost desperately eager to move on from Tohru, he felt wrong asking anyone out without having a connection first. And since he'd never really felt a romantic interest in anyone, it had been easy not to ask anyone out.

That didn't stop anyone from asking him out, though, and he dated regularly all through high school. Nothing serious had ever come from any of those dates, though...and in a way, he supposed that made things simpler.

The first year of university had been more of the same. He had been popular there as well; his charm, intelligence, personality, and unique good looks had proved a potent combination that drew a lot of attention...from all sorts of people.

He couldn't say when it was, exactly, that he'd figured out he was attracted to men as well as women. It would be more accurate to say that he'd always known; maybe it was a side effect of growing up surrounded by the Sohmas, an admittedly beautiful bunch of people regardless of sex, or maybe it was just...who he'd always been. Tohru had been his first love, and he'd always found her beautiful. He still found her beautiful. But she hadn't been destined for him, and when he dreamed of finding a new sweetheart of his own, that person...could truly have been anyone.

Perhaps that was why it was so easy, the first time another man had asked him out. Even though he knew that he already brought so much baggage into any potential relationship and having that relationship be with another man would complicate things further...he didn't care.

After all, in more than two years of dating, nothing serious had ever come of any of it.


"What would you say to a date with me? You say you two are not serious, you are not exclusive...so...would you be willing to go out with me?"

Hans' face had been pink, but his expression was serious. And it was Momiji's turn to stare, completely unprepared for the question even if Hans had already repeated himself once.

It had been over a year that they'd know each other, since the very beginning of each of their first years. Over a year of playing together, of talking music together, of spending time together.

Momiji had always liked Hans. He appreciated the other man's dedication to his music, and admired his commitment to his future plans. Hans had never had any doubts or reservations about what he wanted: his dream was to be a concert cellist, and he'd been working towards that dream for his entire life. Every chance, every opportunity he'd taken; every step that Momiji had missed, himself.

In the beginning, Hans had seemed a little stand-offish, but Momiji quickly determined that he was just more reserved, and possibly even a little shy. In some ways, he actually reminded Momiji of Hatori; someone who was a little intimidating at first glance, but was actually a good listener with a good heart, and a strong sense of responsibility.

As time passed and they all got used to each other, Hans had slowly but surely unbent, allowing Momiji to see more glimpses of the man behind the cello. The man who loved music, but also had a passion for dancing and classic literature. Who drank coffee like it was water, was creeped out by garden gnomes, and could happily live the rest of his life eating nothing but bread and cold cuts. Who always worked so hard, all the time, and was so expectant that everyone else would naturally be working that hard, too...

Christian hadn't been the first man who'd asked Momiji out at university, but he was the first one any of his quartet-mates had known about. The three of them were his friends, and he was theirs; dating had come up occasionally, but none of them had been in a relationship (other than with their studies, as Julia liked to joke), so it had been only ever in passing. If Christian hadn't approached him that day, it was possible none of them would ever have known, until and unless things actually became serious.

After all...had it ever really mattered?


"You want to go out with me?" Momiji had asked, once he was finally able to speak, and Hans had nodded, looking slightly off to the side.

"You only ever mentioned women, and I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable," Hans said, and Momiji nodded.

He could understand that.

"I never realized you like men," Momiji commented after a moment. "It's never come up, has it?"

Hans stared at him for a moment, then smiled. "Why would it have come up? It's not like it's something one just regularly discusses, is it?" he asked, giving Momiji a pointed look that made Momiji blush, realizing how neatly that logic applied to him, too.

"Nein, it isn't," Momiji admitted after a moment. "And you never really talked about dates."

"Well, I haven't really gone on any, so that's not surprising," Hans said. "I've been so busy with orchestra, and my ensembles, and my lessons, and quartet...and I haven't wanted to, either," he admitted, shuffling awkwardly.

"But now...you do?" Momiji asked, and Hans nodded.

"I haven't wanted to, because the person I wanted to ask out never seemed...available. But since I know he is..." Hans looked at Momiji, hesitating, then smiled slightly. "I had to try, ja?"

"Ja," Momiji said, smiling back. "In that case, if you're sure...I think I'd like that, too."


Dating Hans had been completely different than any other dates he'd ever been on. For the first time ever, he and his date were actually friends. Yes, he'd been friendly with some of the people who'd asked him out before, but at best, it was a casual friendliness. Classmates who he chitchatted with before lectures, people he saw every day while passing in the halls. He would know their names, and what they thought about their lecturers, and how long they tended to stay up studying the night before exams, but he'd never actually gone out with someone who he truly considered a friend.

And he'd been surprised, just how nerve-wracking that was.

Momiji couldn't remember ever being so nervous on a date; not his first date, not his first date in Germany. Not the last date he had with someone who thought they were getting serious and Momiji had had to gently let down. Never, not once, in over two years.

But nerves or not...it had been fun.

"I debated between this and a beer garden," Hans had told him as the two of them walked side by side down the sidewalk of a busy Berlin street. "But as much as I think that would be fun, too, this seemed more to your taste, especially when it's this hot out."

"Well, you're not wrong," Momiji had laughed as Hans pulled open the door of the ice cream parlor and they both walked in. "Though I don't think I'm the only one who'll enjoy it," he said, smiling as he looked at the large board displaying the assorted coffee options. "Let me guess, an Eiskaffee?" he'd asked, referring to the dessert that basically amounted to a coffee and ice cream float, and Hans smiled.

"Ja, of course. Why break with tradition?"

They had sat and eaten their ice cream and talked, and laughed. Then they'd walked more, and talked more, and smiled more...and it had been Momiji who asked if maybe, next time, Hans would be interested in getting dinner.


Dinner had led to a second dinner, which had led to a kiss, and to Momiji telling Christian he couldn't see him anymore. Additional dinners had followed, along with walks, visits to museums, to musical performances. To a beer garden, where Hans ended up astonished at Momiji's alcohol tolerance and teased him for concealing just how German he really was. They were both still busy; dates often had to be fit in at awkward times, to accommodate their respective class schedules and Hans' performance load. But they made time for each other whenever they could...and it was wonderful.

But it was also complicated, as Momiji had realized the very first time the two of them had been sitting together and Hans had commented how little he actually knew about Momiji's family.

'Considering you're living so far from home, I'm surprised you don't talk about them more; if it was me, I would probably be an emotional mess from homesickness, especially at first.'

Momiji had smothered a laugh at the idea of serious Hans as an emotional mess for any reason, but he supposed he could see it. He'd heard a fair bit about Hans' family by then, about his parents, older brother, and his older sister who was recently married. Hans' family was close, not just his immediate family but his extended family as well, and listening to Hans talk about them had been sweet...but a little bit painful, as well

Though not nearly as painful as that question.

He had smiled, though, and tried to keep himself sounding upbeat.

'Well, there's not nearly as much to say as there is about yours! Papa has always kept very busy, working, but we talk regularly. You've heard me talk about Momo, of course, and as for Mama...we have never been close.'

Hans had picked up on what Momiji wasn't saying and let the subject drop. Future conversations had included Papa and Momo...but never Mama.

Not then, anyway.


How do you explain to a person who has grown up in a normal, loving family, living a normal, loving life, that yours...was not? How do you explain that for all your life you've been on the outside looking in, that regardless of blood, you had never been allowed to actually be close?

How did you explain that your mother didn't know you, that the reason you had no contact with your German family was because they thought you had died? That the sister you loved and talked about all the time had no idea your bond was of blood as well as of spirit?

And speaking of spirits...

'Schatzi...Hans. Ja, I would love to move in together, so very very much, but there is something I have to tell you, first.'


Their relationship had been everything Momiji could have ever dreamed of and more. He was happy, and he was loved; he loved in return, so very, very deeply. He could have gone on the way things were, contentedly, forever. But that had never been an option.

He knew he could have kept it to himself, especially while they lived in Germany. His past didn't matter, and shouldn't matter; he would never be the Rabbit again, and he was far beyond the reach of anything connected with the Curse.

But it didn't feel right. Hans...deserved to know. He loved Momiji, Momiji knew, and he was always showing it in a million different ways. It shouldn't change anything, Hans knowing. Momiji prayed it wouldn't. But he couldn't make any assumptions, and he couldn't keep something so important from the person he wanted to be with for the rest of his life.

Even if it meant losing him.


Commencement wasn't a thing in Germany like it was in Japan, but Momiji had been delighted beyond belief when Hatori and Tohru had accepted his invitation to come to Berlin for his undergraduate graduation. He had invited more of his cousins, too, but he hadn't been surprised when no one else had been able to come. It was a long distance, and a busy year; Yuki would be graduating himself in just a few more weeks, and he and Machi were getting married that summer, so everyone needed to save up their vacation time to attend the wedding.

But having Hatori and Tohru come had been more than Momiji could have hoped; two of his favorite people, finally coming to see his home? To help him celebrate such an important milestone?

And to actually, finally, properly meet Hans, for the first time out of any of his loved ones from back in Japan?

It was absolutely perfect. It all went absolutely perfectly. And he wished he could have kept it that way, forever.


Telling Hans about the Curse had been the hardest thing he'd ever had to do in his life, not the least because so much of Momiji's Japanese upbringing was already literally foreign to Hans. Understanding the concept of the Sohma family at all had taken time; coming back to that and throwing in the complications of a generational Curse did not make any of it easier.

Momiji had told him about it all; about the Curse, and about the Curse's impact on his family. About the real reason he and his mother weren't close, the real reason he rarely saw his sister. Hans had listened to it all, asked questions...and asked for space.

It hadn't been unexpected. Momiji had braced himself for that eventuality. But it had still been devastating, and he had laid in Tohru's hotel room, his head in her lap, and sobbed like a little boy. Knowing he had done the right thing, and hearing her say he had done the right thing, had helped, but done absolutely nothing to ease the pain.

Nothing had, until there had been a knock at the door, and Hans had stood there with Hatori.

'Momiji...can I talk to you? Alone?'


Tohru had left with Hatori, telling the two of them to talk as long as they needed and text when they were done. Momiji had been anxious, and scared; Hans' voice and expression had been serious, and he hadn't known what to expect.

What he got...was a hug. A tight, backbreaking hug that knocked the wind right out of him without him caring in the slightest.

"I know it never would have stopped us," Hans had whispered, holding him close. "For you and I...even if you were still Cursed, it wouldn't have changed anything. Still, for you, I am so happy. And so very glad you told me."


There had been no secrets, after that. They had moved in together, each of them tackling their respective Master's degree with the same dedication and focus they'd applied to getting their undergraduate degrees, just with more companionable breakfasts and much cozier nights. Hans knew everything: about the Curse, about the Sohmas, about Momiji's family. He had known everything, for over three years.

And there weren't about to be any new secrets now.