[COMPLETED] Change - Book 1[Fruits basket and OHSHC fanfic]

Change. (cross over series between fruits basket and ouran highschool host club)

Chapter one

The only reason I'm moving back to Japan is because my father died and my mother lived back and Japan, and being the last member of my family, I had to move back there. After naming me, mother fled the hospital with my step- brother to go live in Tokyo. Father took good care of me and stuff, like normal parents do. When I hurt my knee in a full-out tennis match between me and my American friend, Annett, he rushed me to the hospital even though it was a minor injury that only would last for a day or two. And when some retarded guys in my science class made fun of my name 'Shizuko Yoshida' for being Japanese, and my natural color hair being silver, he ran down to the school and kicked them where it hurts most. How he found about what they were saying to me that day, I don't know. But I did enjoy seeing that one guy's face turning so red that he had to be brought down to the nurse.

But with the moving, of course, there was going to be consequences. I had to say good-bye to my nice American friends: While they'll be fulfilling their dreams , I don't know. I am working towards my goal of becoming a doctor, but I don't think 8 years of school are really worth it. Another option is a writer, but I don't think I have the exact writing skills to have any book of mine published, no matter how much I do read. Working at a gas station is looking like a pretty good option now.

My friends hadn't come to say goodbye to me in my small brick house that evening, but I preferred it, I wouldn't want to deal with all the crying. And I didn't mind Mrs. J, my neighbor at the time, and her 4-year-old son Jonathon coming over to make sure I had everything packed and ate lunch. I hadn't, so good thing Mrs. J brought me over a bagel while she helped the moving guys load the stuff in the truck. She was giving me a ride to the airport after all.

"Have you ever been to Tokyo before, Shizuko darling?" She asked me while I munched the bagel in the car, which I hoped she didn't mind. I replayed with a mouthful of bagel "No." and then the conversation died.

The Westside Airport was as large as an airport can get. I might have lost myself in it if it hadn't been for my sense of navigation, which, thank god for that. My flight was boarding just then, so I hoped on the plane, praying it wouldn't fall during the flight.

I've watched enough shows like Lost to know what a plane crash looks like, and since I've seen actors pretend to tumble to there doom, I have been mortified ever since. I don't think this certain aircraft would fall, but I'm terrified more the less. I've never been on an airplane before, but my dad has, and has been one of 6 survivors on a trip when he was a young boy. I remember him saying that's how he lost my uncle. All I can see are pictures are him before he was 15, the age he died. And know I was 15, terrified that this was a curse of some sort, and because of me, and this plane would tumble down at any moment. But it hadn't, and I landed in Tokyo, Japan, safely with my entire luggage. It must have been a miracle, or just luck.

I was thankful at that very moment that father taught me Japanese when is was 7 years old, or I would not have been able to read the signs at Tokyo's airport. All I had to do was sit and wait for my mother, which was no problem. Except for the fact I have no idea what she looks like. I hold in my hand a photo of her from 20 years back, but it's pretty much useless because who knows how different she might look like today. And I don't know her name either, which made life much easier for me! The only information I had on this woman is from the aggressive arguments over the phone with dad when I was 9 and able to understand Japanese clearly. She was a remarried woman who lived with her son. That's all I could get from the phone calls because half of them where made when I had been in school. If I was lucky, she would look exactly like me, and I could instantly tell we were related, and everything would be just fine besides the awkwardness of living with the woman who abandoned me at birth. But maybe she would apologize for what she did, and everything WOULD be just fine. But I could only pray.

And as everyone left the airport one by one, leaving me the only one left in the large room, a tall woman with white hair and black highlights walked into the room wearing a fancy shirt and blazer with a skirt and 2 inch heals. Her glasses were placed perfectly at the tip of her nose where her eyes hadn't struggled to see right through them. She looked honestly serious. I might have given her the nickname 'skunk'

"You must be Shizuko Yoshida." The lady said in a low voice. She had no resemblance of me; I really hope that she hadn't been my mother! She stuck out her hand. "Shizuko... correct...?" One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows moved up questionably. I nodded my head yes, and she gave me a smile. "Ai Sohma, pleased to meet you." I shook her hand. Please don't say you're my mother. Please don't say you're my mother. "I'm so glad to see you again. Shizuko darling, I am your mother."

Shit.