A/N: Hey all! Elle here. Wow, it's been a long time since I've published anything... heh heh ; Here's a little furuba one-shot for you featuring Tohru and Momiji. Hope you enjoy it And don't forget to review X3

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Tohru climbed through the hole in the outer wall, the only break into the Sohma compound other than the main door. She rushed across the paths and ran behind the homes that dotted the estate. The girl knew exactly where she was going – she'd been many times before. She made her way along the foot-worn paths where the dirt was exposed and cut through several fences, making sure that no one saw her. When finally, her journey came to an end, Tohru stealthily threw herself behind the bushes she'd become very familiar with. Her back rested against a tree, and she knelt on the ground, peering through the shrubs at the house before her. Tohru could see into the room though a large sliding glass door, which had been opened slightly.

This was what she had come to see, what she'd broken into the Sohma estate to watch.

Just on the other side of the glass door, there was a boy. His light blonde hair and childish, carefree attitude often covered up his maturity. He teased playfully, like a child. Yet other times, when he spoke, the things he said were far beyond his years.

Momiji Sohma's music was the same way. Sometimes, when he played his violin, the music was fast-paced, light, and childish. Other times, he would play a slow, sad tune.

No matter what he played, though, it was always filled with emotion. Every line and every phrase would speak about Momiji; you could hear him in there. The music was like a story he wasn't able to tell you out loud, but it was something he wanted you to hear.

You really can learn a lot about someone through their music. That was what Tohru Honda came to hear. She wanted to hear him play. She wanted to hear the stories he had to tell. That's what music was designed to do, after all, to tell stories.

Momiji started to play. The air became heavier with the cutting blare of the violin being tuned, and then the softer sound of scales being played. There was a quick pause in the playing while, Tohru assumed, Momiji set up his music. Then, the boy began again.

Tohru leaned her head back against the tree and closed her eyes, focusing all of her attention into listening to the music coming from within Momiji's room. Today, his song was neither sad nor happy. The tempo was slow and the tune was very rhythmical. There were chords placed within the music, adding depth to the piece. Here and there, a trill would denote the ending of a phrase. The song was dynamic; Momiji made the effort to adjust the volume and crescendo in some places, while lowering the volume in others. The piece was well-played technically, but music is nothing without emotion behind the notes.

Momiji's performance was not lacking that area either. As Tohru listened, she felt she could pick up on what the boy was putting into each part of the song. Some parts sounded more melancholy; some more joyous. It was like a rollercoaster or a thriller-movie. Each phrase contained some element, and Tohru was experiencing all of it. She sighed quietly, and listened as Momiji continued the song.

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The boy placed the music carefully on the stand, and opened it to the page he wanted. He took a deep breath, and listened to the first few measures of the song in his mind before starting. His eyes passed over the measures, anticipating what each one contained. He focused on placing his fingers correctly on the strings, shifting them up and down the fingerboard. He pulled the bow with his right arm, creating the perfect weight and tension needed to form the correct sound.

As Momiji came to each phrase of the song, he thought of a specific memory or image. A happy phrase was a memory of playing with his friends at school. He pictured the beach or a summer rain storm for calm phrases. When it came to creating a sadder tone, he often pictured his mother or little sister – he pictured them walking away. It was one of the saddest memories he held in his heart. But still, he could think of sadder things. Images of other people he loved disappearing topped that list. A frown defaced Momiji's pretty features as he continued playing the sad section.

His concentration was interrupted by a small sound. The bushes outside of his room had rustled. There was no breeze that day, and Momiji knew it wasn't a bird or other small animal. There was someone out there, sitting underneath the tree and listening to him play. He knew exactly who it was.

Glad that the music was shifting to happy section, Momiji pictured the girl sitting underneath the tree. He envisioned her smile. He felt her warmth as she wrapped her arms around him, cuddling his rabbit self against her chest. Memories of her flooded his mind, bringing comfort not only to the boy, but the music he was playing as well. He could feel it, and could hear it. He hoped the girl could hear it, too.

Momiji knew Tohru Honda was sitting out there, underneath the tree, listening to him. She'd snuck into the compound for the past few weeks just to hear him play. The boy smiled at this realization. He closed his eyes – he had the music nearly memorized by now from practice – and let his emotions take over. Into each line and each phrase, he put the things he wanted to share. Momiji remembered the time they'd spent together, and how he felt throughout each event. He wove the feelings into the music, as one would write their thoughts into a diary or a letter. He hoped that the message would carry to the girl sitting underneath the tree.

The boy ended the song on a long, drawn-out chord. After lifting the bow off of the string and letting the sound all die away, he let out a long sigh. He set his violin in the case, and rested the bow on his music stand, not wanting to pack up just yet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone just outside the door. Momiji turned to meet a sniffling, teary-eye, Tohru.

He crossed the room, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket while walking. He met Tohru, looking straight into her eyes, as they were now about the same height now. Momiji handed the girl the handkerchief.

"How'd you get here, huh, Tohru?" he asked jokingly. He knew the answer.

"I knew the way." she answered in between sniffles. Momiji chuckled.

"Was it bad? Did I make you cry? I'm sorry…"

"N-No! It's not that at all, Momiji-kun! Your song was beautiful."

The boy smiled at Tohru's kind compliment. Maybe she didn't understand what he felt just yet; maybe he'd have the courage to tell her someday. But right now it didn't matter. He took up one of her hands in both of his and kissed it lightly.

"Thank you, Tohru."