Thank you for the kind reviews! I'm getting more excited about what's up next and I guess it makes me update faster. That and it's nice to have a break from school. Keep me posted on your thoughts please!

And suddenly, everything was back to normal. Well, not quite normal. Namie seemed to smile more easily, and Momiji was not quite so high energy all the time, but Momiji found he didn't mind these changes. In fact, they were better, more natural.

Perfectly at easy, Momiji slid into the desk next to Namie a few days later during their break period. Namie had pulled out her math homework and was absorbed in carefully checking through her answers. When Momiji plopped down beside her, she spared a second to glance up and give him a faint smile.

"Hi," she said softly, looking back down at the numbers.

Momiji beamed back. "So I've come up with the best piece to play on the violin! It's that song they play on the radio all the time. You know, the one that goes, 'da da duh na na da!'? Anyway, I've been trying to get the tune down on my violin. It'll sound really different than on the radio but that's ok, 'cause it's still really neat and— Namie, what's wrong?"

Namie looked up at him with wide eyes, surprised by his sudden shift from bubbly to urgent. "What are you talking about?" she said mildly.

Momiji frowned, seriously. "Your eyes haven't move from that one problem since I've been here but you're not paying attention to what I'm saying either. And you've got that slightly panicked look you wear when you're trying to keep it all together."

Namie blinked, swallowed, then bowed her head back towards the book. "It's nothing," she whispered.

"Hey." Gently, Momiji placed a finger under her chin and tilted it up again so he could stare into her eyes. "It's ok. It's me."

Those green eyes suddenly filled with tears. "It didn't work," Namie's voice broke.

"What didn't?"

"The treatment. The new medication that was supposed to make Mom better." Namie brushed the hand that was still touching her chin away, but she didn't go back to hiding in her book. Instead, she stood up and started pacing the room.

"Of course," she continued, her voice rising and getting heated. "The doctors didn't say it would work. They said it 'might'. 'This might work', 'that might do the trick', 'there's a chance this could knock it into remission.' Might, might, might! I'm sick of this! Are they finally just going to give it up and say, 'well, we tried but that's about it I'm afraid.' Or are they going to find something that actually works!"

Momiji didn't say anything through the whole outburst. He quietly watched as Namie shouted the last word and accompanied it with a wild arm motion. She let out a frustrated breath, then the rush of anger subsided. As she sank back into her chair, she let Momiji reach out and squeeze her hand.

"When did you find out?" he asked softly.

"Yesterday afternoon," replied Namie in an exhausted and defeated voice. "Sorry for exploding."

Momiji smiled lightly. "Never apologize for letting go. I like listening. That sounding like it'd been weighing on you."

With a wet chuck, Namie wiped at a few stray tears on her cheeks. "I guess. It's just hard to vent like that at home. Everyone else it going though the same thing so I don't want to add my own anger to their troubles. And Mom's so brave and strong about the whole thing so I feel like I should be too."

"Your mom sounds tough," commented Momiji.

"She's the best," nodded Namie. "The queen of taking care of everything and keeping it together. I mean, she's got three kids and even when we would all be at our most difficult, she'd just gather us into a big hug, ignore any squirming, and plant a kiss on our heads. She always could cheer me up and we'd laugh about stuff for hours. She's got the most infectious personality."

Namie smiled in memory. "Whatever the stereotype about teenager daughters and their mothers, we were never like that. I occasionally got annoyed by her but she was still super cool and we were the best of friends." Namie shook her head. "Are. Still are."

She blinked, then looked at Momiji abruptly. "I'm sorry."

Now it was Momiji's turn to blink. "What for?"

"I— I don't want to be insensitive."

Momiji stared at her as the realization hit him. Namie though her talk about her mother would make him sad about his. She'd made the connection that no else really ever had before, and was worried about his feelings. The funny thing was, as Namie always seemed to do, she'd got it right. Her words did give him a small pang, but he didn't want her to stop.

"I don't mind," he said tried to say convincingly.

The corner of Namie's mouth twitched. "It's ok," she said softly repeating his earlier words. "It's me."

Momiji gave a faint laugh. "No, I mean…" he tilted his head back, trying to find the words to describe his feelings. "I didn't have a great childhood. I guess because of that I spent a lot of time wishing for a mother figure. That's sort of how Tohru fits into my life." Namie stiffened slightly. "My... situation is not unique to my family, and Tohru started taking care of us so she sort of became the mother figure for everyone. I still hang on her a little 'cause I still wish that kind of attention, at least a little bit."

He looked at Namie and she smiled softly.

"You know I'm not going to be another mother figure for you though, right?" she said gently.

Momiji laughed and patted her hand. "I know, and I don't want you to."

He sobered and went on, "I still miss my real mother and sister. But even though my memories of them are painful, I can't hide or forget them because their all I have of them, you know? And I don't wish a history like mine on other people. I like that you have a good mom. And I like hearing your stories about it." He smiled, "I can imagine what it would be like, and I can pretend to be a part of them."

Namie watched him kindly. His hand was still sitting on hers and she laced their fingers together.

They sat in a peaceful silence. Neither one wanted to break the untroubled atmosphere of all walls down and all masks dropped. Eventually though, Momiji couldn't hold it in any longer and decided to change the topic.

"You know, we should do something. Something where we don't have to worry and have fun!"

Namie raised an eyebrow. "Why does that sound familiar?"

Momiji stuck out his tongue at her. "This time will go better. I promise. We can go to the dance!"

"That again? Hasn't it already passed?"

"No, it's Friday."

"That's a bit last minute."

"There's enough time to find a dress and stuff!"

Namie couldn't help but let a tiny smile leak through. "Are you going to wear a dress too?"

Momiji raised his eyebrows. "If you would like me too," he said loftily. "Whatever makes the experience more fun." When Namie snorted with laughter, he lost it and grinned too. "No! I don't wear dress anymore. I'm too tall for most of them to fit. Plus I don't have the right curves. Anyway, I like wearing suits. They make me feel James Bond-ish."

Namie fell back in her chair, dissolving into giggles. Momiji watched her happily. Seeing her smile always gave him a burst of warmth in his chest. Her eyes still held a small amount of sadness though, that Momiji suddenly felt compelled to banish. A brilliant idea started to take seed in his mind.

OOO

Sitting on his bed later that evening, Momiji stared at the number he had copied onto a scrap of paper. He was suddenly very nervous. With a deep breath he quickly dialed the number.

Two rights, then a hoarse voice picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hello," Momiji replied, calmly and carefully, remembering all the lessons he'd ever been taught in etiquette. "My name is Momiji Sohma and—"

The hoarse voice chuckled. "Ah, I've been wondering if I might get a chance to speak with you."

Momiji was thrown for a second. "You know about me?"

"Of course." On the other end of the line, there was a smile in the woman's voice as, though still raspy, it grew stronger and confident. "Namie has told me much about you. It's nice to meet you Momiji Sohma. I am Yumiko Kimura, but I suppose you already know that or you wouldn't be calling. Now to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Momiji smiled too. Namie was right, she did have an infectious personality. "Well, I'd like to go to a dance with your daughter. But I have a favor to ask…"

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