Disclaimer: I really don't own Fruits Basket.

Even from the womb, I was obedient.

According to family legend, my mother knew not only the month and day of my birth the moment she discovered she was pregnant, but the exact time. My father even told me that on that day my mother looked at her stomach and told me I would come when she told me to. It was a phenomenon, the doctors remarked, that she had gone through labor with such an expectant look on her face, as if she were merely waiting for a guest at a tea party. Because of her uncanny sense of future events, I learned not to try deceiving her. Mother had those penetrating eyes that knew my every misdeed, so I grew up a little scared of her. I didn't need mother's or father's interference; I gave myself limits to please them.

My mother had the looks that I lacked. My hair was dark; hers was luminous. My eyes were distrusting fox slits; hers were big and friendly. She didn't share my stringy hair or my awkward frame. We didn't share anything. I wondered if I was truly her son. I'm the spitting image of my father, right down to the glasses.

Our relationship wasn't warm or loving, but she did her best to raise me despite her illness. I can never forget the day she was diagnosed. I was five at the time, but I could still pronounce her ailment: tuberculosis. On a day when her health was particularly bad, she beckoned me to her side. Pale and beautiful, her delicate bird-wing hand fluttered to stroke my face. To think that someone so lovely could bear to touch such an ugly person brought tears to my eyes.

That snowy day, Mother told me, 'Makoto, you don't share any of my traits. You don't have my face or my fluidity of movement. You don't have any extraordinary talents. However, you don't need those to succeed. I love you despite what you do not have, my son. Please...' Her voice went very soft, but I could still hear her clearly. 'This is why you must work very hard to win... To win at life, these are the things you must use: your intelligence and your name. You're very smart, Makoto, do you know that? You're just like your father in that respect. You must study very hard, do well in school, and let that brain of yours grow.

'Takei… Son, your family name is your weapon. You have a very good place in society. We are not rich, but we have a good life. Let people know that you are somebody. And, darling, you must listen to this piece of advice very closely.' I placed my ear next to her mouth. She breathed warmly into my ear. 'Your family name may come last, but it must be the first thing people remember. Remind people of who you are. Don't ever forget that.'

Her recovery inspired me to do as she wished. I was always the snack distributor in kindergarten, the line leader in elementary school, and the class representative in junior high. I made myself stand out, but not in creative ways like starring in the school play or painting skillfully. I was good at being good, and so I always behaved. I was the trust-worthy person, the model student, the outstanding young man who respected authority.

I was the person every child loathed.

It was a lonely road, but I walked it, for my mother's sake, my father's sake, and for my own. If I wasn't living up to my potential, how could I obey my mother's wishes? How could I win at life? It was a scary thought, simply being forgotten. So I endured the taunts, the hatred, the fear and loneliness. I tried to handle it gracefully, but my despair always followed me. I couldn't forget and I didn't want to remember. It was an endless burn that painted itself over my existence, stinging and tortuous.

Once, I thought winning was all there was to life. I thought that being a better person was the only way to live.

Until I found her.

I didn't have the exact details. I didn't know the exact second I regarded her differently, but I knew that she has begun to change me. However, it was too late to tell her--to thank her for ending this selfish way of living.

Without her, the happiness around me, the laughing students, only served to torment me. These halls were desolate, empty, and gray.

I went to my desk by the window. The teacher began the lesson, but I couldn't understand the words and didn't want to. I looked out of the window, something I'd never done during instructional time. The scenery was gorgeous, but I didn't care.

My life revolved around a schedule. Everything, from waking up to going to bed, had a time slot. My school life and home life weren't so dissimilar in build.

Motoko was the nuance that kept my ordered life running smoothly. And without that nuance, I felt useless. Little by little, she folded herself into my life. How little she knew of her importance.

She was no longer the ground, but my sky.

Unrequited affections... Oh, how it hurt! I never thought about it, but the way she felt for Yuki was a painful one-sided affair. And I wanted to be with Motoko but she would never want my heart. I fully understood her pain now. We were too twisted for love, but we both wanted it so badly.

I had to see her. Now.

I jumped up from my desk, the chair clattering in protest and fainting behind me. I yelled something about having to go to the bathroom, then fled the scene. I heard my teacher calling my name, but I didn't dare return. On my frantic path, I literally ran into Minami.

"H--Hey!" she yelled angrily, pushing me. "Watch where you're going!"

I was so relieved to see her, I could've kissed her. That sentiment must've made itself clear to Minami because she eyed me warily. "What?"

She snorted, trembling with red and puffy eyes. Of course. Minami knew.

My hand awkwardly went for her shoulder. She recoiled. "It'll be okay."

She shook her head. "I thought I could be president. But not now. Not like this!" I felt uncomfortable as she bawled into her fists. "She's my friend. Why'd she have to leave?"

My consolation had reached its limit. As insensitive as it was, I had to leave. "Minami, where does Motoko live?"

"Wh... Wh... Why you wanna know?" she sniffled.

"Please. I just need to know. It would be helpful if you told me."

She regarded me with suspicious eyes. "Not because you're better than me and I have to tell you?" she demanded. "And, just so you know, I'm not saying that you are better than me, 'cuz you're not, understand?"

"Of course not. It's because... Because I'm worried about her and... I want to see her. I need to see her."

"Bring her back then. Bring her back!" she blubbered in a half-crazed tone.

The day when Motoko changed roles in my heart floated to mind. I said as warmly as I could, "Don't worry. I'll find her."

"You're cheating if I tell you." She sobbed out Motoko's address. I had to ask her many times to repeat the street name, the house number, what was near her home, but she cooperated without complaint. Well, just one.

"Clean out your frickin' ears and you wouldn't need me to repeat it!"

I laughed as I placed a hand on her head. "Thank you."

Then I sped past her. I jogged past the window where I found her beauty, ran past the place where I yelled at her and almost kissed her, sprinted past the office where that nurse teased us about being a couple. Motoko will never know how my heart now thunders at that assumption.

I dashed out of the building.

I really wasn't winning, was I? Not with my sheltered life. Not with my discipline, my morals. I laughed into the crisp morning air. How exhilarating it felt to flout the expectations of my betters! I pressed my hand to my heart... there. There it was, beating. I was breathing, I was living. For the first time, I felt as if my heart was beating for someone. I had someone to live for! It didn't matter if she never loved me. It hurt like hell, yes, but this was what it meant to be alive.

I didn't care about anyone else's feelings but hers. Hers and mine.

Winning doesn't matter anymore.