For Nano Kunitachi and Lotta Devon and animaguswolfsong and all the people who showed me they care just as much about these characters and their relationship as much as I do. Happy Thanksgiving by the way! I am always thankful for reviews. (yeah, I know that was cheesy but hey! they make me really happy ^^)

"Hey what are you doing tomorrow after school?"

"I don't know. I have to walk Anii to a play date, but that's it. Why?"

"There's something I want to show you."

OOO

To be honest, it was a little odd walking down street with Momiji. They were friends again, but something had changed too. It was temptingly easy just to slip into the warm, fuzzy, happiness of being with Momiji, but then she would remember the fight and get a small jolt of caution. They'd each seen an uglier side of the other now, and it was hard to forget. That, and they'd both realized that the other knew a lot more about them then they'd previously thought.

Whatever the reason, Namie felt almost a little awkward following Momiji. It didn't help that he was visibly nervous and kept trailing off distractedly in their conversation. Finally when the two had run out of agreeable topics, Namie had stopped trying, and they had settled into silence.

Momiji stopped walking abruptly. Namie narrowly avoided bumping into him, then quickly looked around. Nothing seemed particularly noteworthy. A plain street, a couple of shops, and a few benches in a wide alley-turned-sitting-area.

Momiji smiled at Namie's curiosity. "We have to wait for a bit," he said, making his way over to the benches and sinking down on one.

Namie followed and sat beside him. He was definitely on edge now. Though his gaze was steady enough, fixed on something on the opposite side of the street, one of his hands tapped insistently on his leg.

Giving up on trying to see whatever Momiji watching, Namie leaned back and watched people go by sleepily. She'd slept a bit better the last few nights, probably, reluctant as she was to admit it, from the renewal of Momiji's nightly phone calls, but it still took time for the exhaustion to wear off. The warmth of the sun on Namie's face and the comfort of sitting next to Momiji was making her sleepy.

After a little while, a particularly wide yawn woke Namie from her pleasant daze. She sat forward, looking around again.

Momiji hadn't moved. Eyes still straight forward, he now seemed to be chewing lightly on his lip as his hand tapped faster and faster on his leg. It unnerved her slightly to watch him. On impulse, Namie reached out and covered his hand with her own. She didn't like seeing him so upset.

Momiji started, then looked at her with a smile. "Sorry, I should probably clam down, huh? I guess I'm just—" His eyes left her face and Momiji bolted to his feet. "There!"

Namie jumped after him, hurrying to the edge of the alley and peering around the street to see what it was. At first, nothing seemed to have changed. Then Namie noticed the small girl who'd just left the music shop across the street and to the left, carrying a black violin case with both hands.

"Who's that?" Namie asked.

Momiji never took his eyes off the girl. "That's my sister."

Namie stared at the girl, then at Momiji, then back to the girl. "Your…? I didn't know you had a sister."

He nodded faintly. "Her name's Momo."

Now Namie knew it was there, the resemblance was evident. Same yellow blond hair, same round, open face and big brown eyes. She also vividly brought to mind the picture Momiji had shown Namie of his mother.

For a moment the two watched Momo stand on the sidewalk with her big violin case. Then she turned, looking one way, then the other, down the street. As she turned in their direction, Momiji moved, not to wave or go towards his sister, as Namie expected, but away from her. In a quick step, he turned so his back was to the little girl, mostly hidden by the wall of the next building and threw out an arm to keep Namie back too.

Unaware of their presence, Momo turned and began walking down the street, away from her brother and his friend.

"Momiji," Namie wondered, with the faint stirring of trepidation. "Why are we hiding from her?"

Momiji cast one more look over his shoulder at the girl, then went back to the bench. "Because she doesn't know about me. And I'm not allowed to tell her."

A bucket of ice slid into Namie's stomach. She could only watch Momiji sit down with a dumbfounded expression.

Momiji leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped. His gaze seemed to be focused on something far in the distance.

"When I was born," Momiji began softly, still not looking at Namie, "my mother… she… she got really— depressed. Like extreme postpartum, you could say I guess. She thought I was a… a monster, and she couldn't bear to hold me or touch me, or even really look at me much. She tried, but that only made it worse. So, when I was about… six?… she had a… procedure where her—" Momiji's voice broke faintly, and he rubbed his face, "where she forgot all her memories. Of me, of her life, of everything during those years."

Namie couldn't breathe. Her heart seemed clench tighter in her chest with every word. There was no expression on Momiji's face beyond a faint line between his eyebrows as if he was trying to see something just out of sight. Namie sank slowly on to the bench next to him, as he continued talking evenly.

"It helped, though, forgetting. She had another baby, this time a girl, Momo, and it went alright. So now she can have a happy life with her husband and child. A perfect family. That's why Dad doesn't want me talking to her or Momo. Mom might remember and go back to being unhappy."

He broke off, his head bowed.

"Momiji," Namie began softly, with no idea of how to express her feelings. What could you say to something like that?

"I still see her occasionally though," Momiji went on, in a brighter tone. "When I'm at Dad's office. She thinks I'm the kid of one of the other workers, and she talks to me sometimes. Momo's with her too. Momo notices the resemblance and got curious so I have to extra careful around her."

Namie reached out hesitantly to touch his shoulder. Momiji twitched slightly at the touch, then tilted his head up to laugh.

"It's kinda funny. The only time I ever got to see her smile was when she thought I belonged to someone else." He looked back down at his clasped hands and said more softly, "Just some silly kid."

In the quiet that followed, Namie didn't move, one hand resting lightly on Momiji's shoulder, watching him. Then one, two, drops of water fell silently onto Momiji's hands. And Namie broke, pulling him towards her. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, sobs already wracking his body, as Namie felt her own cheeks grow wet.

There wasn't really any reason for them to be crying. They both knew better than anyone that tears didn't fix anything. Maybe they couldn't help just once for crying for helplessness and all they'd lost. Or maybe, it was just nice to be able to feel someone's embrace as the tears finally came.

Disclaimer: Fruit's Basket and its characters belong to Natsuki Takaya.