It had been nice, to see Kaibara High again and to catch up with their friends. Tohru, Kyo, Haru, Kisa, and Hiro had stayed at the school, talking, for over an hour after Momiji had left, then headed out together in the direction of the main estate. Haru had split off to go back to Rin's place, then eventually the rest of them had said goodbye as well when Tohru and Kyo had to turn to go to the dojo.

But not before Kisa and Tohru made plans to get together that weekend, and had another cuddle fest.

Tohru had seemed like her usual bubbly happy self the whole time. But once it was just Tohru and Kyo, she had lapsed into a thoughtful silence. He kept glancing over at her, perplexed and a little alarmed at the sudden shift in mood. The alarm only grew when her thoughtful expression started to give way to sadness, and Kyo stopped walking.

"Ok, Tohru, you've gotta tell me what's wrong."

Tohru hadn't meant to alarm Kyo. She hadn't even meant for him to know that she was thinking, let alone that she was thinking about something sad, and she felt instant regret for making him worry.

He was so sweet, worrying about her like that.

She didn't try to lie and tell him nothing was wrong; he knew her too well for that, and he'd never believe her.

"Kyo...did anything seem strange to you about Momiji? At the end there, right before he left?"

Momiji. Of course. Tohru had seemed so normal after Momiji left that Kyo had figured she hadn't noticed anything unusual. It had been a relief, so he'd tried not to dwell too much on the other man's behavior himself. But clearly she had noticed, and clearly it was bothering her.

A lot, if it was still on her mind this much later.

Kyo didn't quite know how to answer her question, though. He was aware that Tohru knew Momiji had been having some problems this past year, but as far as he knew she'd never been able to learn why. Kyo hadn't wanted to pry; Tohru and Momiji's friendship was something separate from him, and he didn't need to babysit them. Whatever they talked about was between them; unless something was readily volunteered, he wasn't going to ask. But it sure would have been handy to know now just what Tohru suspected.

After a long pause, Kyo sighed. "Yeah, he seemed a little down."

Tohru nodded. "When he was talking about the things Kisa could do now, the things you all can do now, he seemed so serious. And so sad," she said, her eyes filling up with tears. "I can understand the serious, but the sad? I wish I knew what was hurting him, what was making him still carry that sadness. And later, when we told them we were engaged...I know he was acting happy and like himself, but there was a moment when I would swear he was sad then, too. And I don't understand it." She wiped her at her eyes, gratefully accepting once again Kyo's handkerchief. "Was he sad we told him that way? In a group, instead of on his own? Was it a carryover from us seeing Haru without him? I wish I understood."

Kyo rubbed Tohru's back as she stood, sniffling, on the sidewalk. He wished it didn't have to be like this, not for Momiji or for Tohru, either. Selfishly, he'd hoped Tohru would never figure it out. He wasn't worried about losing her, but he was worried how the knowledge would make her feel. Tohru had always had a tremendous capacity for guilt, and he hated how she'd drag herself for things completely beyond her control. If she learned about Momiji's feelings, how would she take it?

For now, the best policy for Kyo seemed to be to keeping his distance. He still wasn't going to say anything; that was up to Momiji.

Kyo wrapped his arms around Tohru, hugging her close. "I guess you'll have to talk to him about it tonight, Tohru; he's the only one who can say."

Tohru was waiting for Momiji in the dojo courtyard when he turned up, at precisely 6:30. He was smiling, he was friendly, he seemed to be his usual self, but Tohru wasn't sure she believed it. Now that it was just the two of them, she found herself studying him closely, wondering how long it had been since he changed. Had he been carrying that sadness for all this time? Was he just waiting for the right person to come along and see through the mask?

The two of them had walked to a park, and bought their ice cream from a vendor. Tohru was proud of herself for hiding her concern, but she felt that she needed to say something. She needed to ask him, to finally try to make some sense out of whatever it was that had been hanging over him for the past year. The shadow behind his smiles, and the sadness in his voice. But how?

They sat down on a bench together, and Momiji gave Tohru a long look. Then he sighed, and looked away. "You might as well ask, Tohru. I can see how much you want to, how long you've been trying to fight it."

Tohru blushed crimson and internally flailed. She'd thought she was doing such a good job hiding her concern, but apparently he could see right through her! "Ah, I have no idea what you mean, Momiji! I was just thinking how nice this ice cream is, and how good it is to spend time with you and maybe feed the ducks, and..." she trailed off as Momiji looked back at her, his eyes sad and knowing. And then she sighed herself; there was no point in denying, not when she did really want to talk to him.

Taking his hand in hers, she gave it a hesitant squeeze. "Is everything...alright with you, Momiji?" She knew that sounded vague, but she didn't really know how else to begin.

Alright, huh? Such a generic term, but did it fit? Was he alright?

Momiji smiled, the same shadowed smile Tohru had seen earlier. "Alright...I guess it depends on how you mean it, Tohru. I have so many good things in my life, after all. In two days, I will be graduating, and then I will be off to college. And I am free..." He tilted his head back, looking up at the colors of the evening sky. "So I guess you could say I am alright. You should say I'm alright," he said, softly.

"But you're not, are you?" Tohru didn't know why she was asking; looking at Momiji, and the way he was sitting with those sad eyes, he clearly wasn't. Asking him was pointless, and unnecessarily cruel. But she'd asked him all the same.

And that question was enough to finally push him to the breaking point. Letting go of Tohru's hand and his ice cream, Momiji leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. "No, I am nicht alright. I know I should be. I know I have so much to be happy about. People to be happy for. People who are happy for me. And I know that should be enough. It's more than so many had, for so long. But it's not enough, not enough for me."

He was crying, deep, racking sobs that shook his whole body. Tohru was horrified; not because of the emotion, but because of the fact he'd kept it hidden for so long. And alongside that horror she felt anger, anger with herself for going so long without realizing. Without trying, somehow, to help her friend as he struggled.

"Oh, Momiji." Tohru wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as he continued to sob. And at first he let her, taking comfort in her warmth and care as he poured out years of compounded sorrow. But once he realized what he was doing, Momiji almost explosively shot to his feet.

"I'm sorry, Tohru. I know you mean well, you really do, and I'm sorry. But I just...I can't..." He looked at her with tears streaming down his face, then shook his head and looked down at the ground, a bitter smile taking over his expression. "I am just the worst kind of man. I take and take and take, and then I feel that I ought to get more. And when I don't get more, when I am left with all the good things I already had, I feel cheated."

Tohru was incredibly confused, but she wanted to understand. She'd never seen Momiji like this, so hurt and so bitter. And she hated hearing him say those things about himself, things that she knew could never be true.

"You're not, Momiji, you're not! You're a wonderful man, absolutely wonderful! As long as I've known you, you've always been so sweet and kind and generous, and when you befriend someone you take them into your whole heart! I've never heard you be cruel, never, not until right now. And I won't let you be cruel to yourself, Momiji, not when it's such a horrible lie!"

Momiji laughed, a bitter, choked up laugh. How painful her words cut, yet she meant for them to be a comfort. She was trying to lift his spirits, and yet only reminded him how he might have had a chance.

If only the way hadn't been closed from the very beginning.

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "You have always been so kind to me, Tohru. Always been my friend. And I know I should be grateful that we've always had that. I know I should want to always keep that." Momiji felt like he was teetering on the edge of a precipice, one step away from falling. If he told her, if she were to know...just how much would that change? Would it be a relief, to put it out there, to have it in the open? To not have to suppress things any more, whatever the fallout? Or would that just make everything worse, make her unable to face him, to be around him? Would saying something destroy what they had, even if it wasn't exactly what he wanted?

Momiji wasn't ready for that. He looked at Tohru again, then sat back down next to her on the bench. "Tohru...have I told you about what breaking the Curse meant for me? What it meant for my family?"

He seemed calmer now, and Tohru felt slightly encouraged. But she was keeping her distance, giving him the space he needed to work through whatever it was that he needed to say. She had thought her touch would calm him, but if he needed her to stay back then she would.

She would listen, though; listen to whatever he needed to say.

"I... I'm not sure, Momiji." They'd touched, very lightly, on the topic of Momiji's family, back in the first few months after the Curse had broken. But as Tohru thought about it, there had been nothing beyond that. And as she looked at Momiji, she felt a twist in her stomach as to why.

His voice was soft when he started talking, and he was looking down at the ground. It was like he was watching a scene, playing out in the distance. "I was foolish. So, incredibly foolish. I had thought, you see...I had hoped that when the Curse was broken, that maybe things would be able to be...better. I knew that there was no hope for us to be a true family; I knew that even if Mama's memories were restored, there would be no way to magically mend things between us. I had been apart for too long. I wasn't her son."

He twisted one fist in the other hand, squeezing it so tightly his knuckles were white. "And Papa...he wasn't willing to try. Not even to consider it. Not that I asked, or planned to ask. But that was the first thing he told me, when I told him the news. Before he hugged me, before he told me how happy he was, before anything, he told me that I still couldn't be around Mama too much. That it was still too risky, that if I were to start spending too much time around her, she'd start to remember. And that even though that wasn't me, anymore, that even though I wasn't the Rabbit, it might be too much for her."

Momiji dropped his face back into his hands, his voice shaking. "I had hoped, you know? Not for a family portrait, but for something. I had thought...that maybe, I could become a part of their lives. That Papa could be my 'mentor,' and 'take an interest' in me. That maybe that could be a way for me to get a foot into their home, and their lives. That I could visit, and do things with them. That I could be a 'big brother' for Momo, after all this time. But Papa was too scared even to try."

"Oh, Momiji..." Tohru's heart ached for him as he sat there, crying for the family he'd always been denied. She couldn't blame him for what he had hoped; she'd even thought something similar herself, that with the breaking of the Curse, his family would be able to be whole again. But that had been such a rosy outlook, she realized; you can't just pick up broken pieces and make something whole again.

And Momiji had never even had the chance to try.

"I just...wanted a chance. A chance to be a family. For a little while." Momiji lifted his face and looked at Tohru, trying to smile a little. He knew this had to be hard for her, hearing him like this. Seeing her like this. He didn't want her to worry. But it was like the stopper had been ripped from a bottle, and he just couldn't stop himself.

"There was...one thing, at least. One small wish, which was able to come true. I have gotten...to spend time with Momo," Momiji said as he wiped again at his eyes. "Papa didn't know if it was a good idea...because he still thinks Momo is too sharp about how much I look like Mama. But since I can't transform anymore, and since Momo still asks about me, he decided to let us try. And Momo asked me...to be her big brother." The smile that came with that statement was genuine, a real glimmer of happiness shining through the tears. "And I told her I would be happy to be her big brother, always."

Tohru thought back to the day where she'd met Momo in the main estate, when she'd confessed to watching Momiji. And how sad it had made Tohru then, to know that they were separated. She'd hated what life had done to them then, and she hated what life was doing to Momiji now, but at least in this one thing, they could be happy.

"I know I should be grateful to have Momo. And I am, so very much. She is so wonderful, Tohru, so wonderful. So very dear to me, now more than ever. But I am so selfish," He balled up his hands against his knees, his fingers clenching into fists. "I wanted more than that. I got Momo, but I wanted Mama, too. And Papa. I wanted a family. And I wanted..." he looked sideways at Tohru, then broke off and stood up again.

"Ach...I am pathetic."

Tohru stood up, too. "No, Momiji, you're not pathetic. You're not! I know what it's like to want something you can't have, to wish for the way things might have been. And it's not pathetic, not at all!"

She was so fierce-looking, Momiji thought as he looked at her. So intense, so determined to make her point. So eager to boost his spirits, to pull him out of his wallowing. So very, very beautiful. And so painful.

The bitter smile was back, and Momiji turned away. "Thank you, Tohru, but I am pathetic. Instead of being grateful for what I have, I grab for more and I whine when I can't get it. I want what other people have, and feel bitter that they've got them and I don't. It doesn't matter if it's a family..." He caught Tohru's hand, the one with her engagement ring, and let her fingers slip through his. "Or the girl I love."

In that moment, Tohru's heart stopped and so did the world around her. She could see it all, frozen in that one moment: Momiji's hand on hers, the sadness in his eyes as he looked into hers. She could hear it, in the tone of his voice.

'Engaged. You two are engaged, aren't you?'

'The girl I love.'

Momiji could see the exact moment she figured it out, and he let go of her hand. He wanted to turn away, to avoid seeing her shock and horror at his presumption. But he couldn't; even though he hadn't wanted to tell her, he'd had to.

And he needed to know where that left him.

She was struggling, he could tell. She couldn't look at him, not yet. And he couldn't blame her. He wouldn't want to look at himself, either.

Tohru's mind was racing, back over the past year and more. Moments, flashes, hints. His sadness, that only she seemed to be worried about or notice. The way that he would never stay too long when both she and Kyo were present, the way he and Kyo would look at each other sometimes...

Her eyes flared. Kyo! Did he know about this? Had he known Momiji felt this way?

Would he have told her if he had?

No...she didn't think he would. He wouldn't have said anything, wouldn't have wanted to make things complicated. But did that mean all this time, he'd known how much she was hurting Momiji? How much she was still hurting him now, however unintentionally? No wonder Momiji had left when they started talking about her engagement. No wonder he hadn't wanted her to hug him tonight. No wonder he was still carrying that sadness around when she kept pushing their old closeness on him and he knew there could never be more.

She didn't know what to say. "Momiji, I-"

"No, Tohru," Momiji cut her off, holding up a hand. "You don't have to say anything. I shouldn't...have put that on you. Especially not now. Not when you are so happy, so justifiably happy." He was smiling at her, but tears were once again running down his face. And Tohru was crying herself, wishing she could spare him some of that pain.

Momiji reached out for her hand again. "And I swear to you, Tohru, I am happy for you. For you and Kyo. Because you love each other, so very much. We all see it, and we've seen it for a long time." He paused, wiping at his eyes yet again. "And you two are meant to be. That's a good thing. It's only selfishness on my part that makes me ever wish even the slightest thing otherwise." He let go of her and stepped back, then looked bitterly back at the ground. "But that's why...I'm so very pathetic."

Tohru wanted to say something, so badly. To refute him, to console him. Something. But the words just...weren't there. "Oh, Momiji."

He shook his head again. "No, Tohru, please...don't try to make me feel any better, ok? Not right now, not anymore. I know you mean well, and it means so very much to me, but I just...can't. Not tonight."

They stood there for a moment in silence, then Momiji look up at the sky. "I think...I should go. And it's ok if you want to forget, Tohru. I don't want you to ever feel...like I didn't try my best to be considerate." He sighed, then smiled slightly. "Though I do have to say, that having it out there...that knowing you know...it makes me feel better. At least now I don't have to pretend."

Tohru found her voice. "Momiji, can we please talk some more? It's fine if it's not tonight, but tomorrow, maybe?" She paused, remembering that tomorrow was the last day of school and the day before his graduation. It might not be the best time to have a potentially heavy conversation, but she didn't want to leave things like this, either.

Momiji considered, then smiled at her. "If you'd wait for me again after school tomorrow...I'd like that."

Momiji had offered to walk Tohru back to the dojo, but she'd declined; she told him she wanted to stay longer at the park and that's she'd be fine staying by herself. Momiji had nodded, but as he walked away he'd pulled out his phone.

"Hey...ja, we are. We were. But I think you'd better come to Tohru." Pause. "The bench on the south side of the duck pond." Long pause. "...yes. And I'm sorry."

Tohru sat on the bench, holding Kyo's handkerchief to her eyes and crying. Crying for how unfair life could be. For how so many people could be so sad. For how hard it was, to want to fix something shattered and know you couldn't. For how happy endings weren't always possible, and for how feelings, even loving feelings, could sometimes be cruel.

She felt someone sit down next to her, and then arms were around her, holding her. Kyo's arms. She didn't even have to see him to know, she knew by feel. By smell. By the way she immediately felt safe and secure and able to cry even more freely. And she did, turning to bury her face in Kyo's shoulder and simply sob.

Kyo had started running the moment he hung up with Momiji, and he hadn't stopped until he was standing in front of her. She was crying so hard she couldn't even see him, or hear him either, and he'd felt a momentary surge of anger with Momiji. Anger for him making her this way, anger for leaving her like this, alone, at night. But the anger only lasted for a moment; brief as their conversation had been, Momiji's voice held a world of hurt.

'Hey.'

"Hey. Aren't you and Tohru supposed to be at the park?"

'Ja, we are. We were. But I think you'd better come to Tohru.'

"Momiji, what's wrong? Did something happen? Where is she?!"

'The bench off the southside of the duck pond.'

"Damnit, Momiji, I asked what's wrong!" Then Kyo had paused, finally making some sense out Momiji's dejected voice. He had asked, his own voice levelling out, "Did you tell her, then?" He hadn't needed to say more; they both understood.

'Yes. And I'm sorry.'

Kyo sat down and wrapped his arms around Tohru. When she turned to cry against him, he simply hugged her closer, resting his cheek on her hair. He wished he'd been wrong, wished that it had been something else. Or that it wouldn't be that big a deal, that Tohru would come up with one of her magic speeches that made everything brighter and things make sense. He wished he knew the right words to help comfort her. But he didn't.

All he could do was be there with her, and hold her while she cried.