I didn't believe in magic.
Not the kind in stories, anyway.
But I believed in Fruits Basket.
That night, rain tapped my window like a secret I wasn't supposed to hear. I was curled on the floor of my tiny apartment, back pressed against the radiator that never worked quite right, rereading Volume 1 for the third time that month.
I'd dog-eared the pages where Tohru smiled through her tears. Kyo looked away when someone thanked him. Where Yuki's eyes held a loneliness so deep, it made my chest hurt.
"They're all so broken," I whispered to the empty room. "And so loved anyway."
I traced the panel where Tohru first meets Shigure on the porch her bow slightly crooked, her voice too bright with hope.My heart flutters and aches over that page more times than I could count. Not because it was sad. But because it was kind.
And kindness felt like a language I'd forgotten how to speak.
My eyelids grew heavy. The manga slipped from my fingers. The last thing I saw was Tohru's smile soft, stubborn, impossibly brave.
Then… silence.
Not the hollow quiet of my apartment. This was different.
Alive.
I opened my eyes to damp grass beneath my palms, the scent of wet earth and something sweet plum blossoms? hanging in the air. Rain still fell, but gently, like the sky was apologizing for earlier.
I sat up, heart thudding.
I wasn't in my room.
I was in a garden.
Not just any garden.
This one felt… known.
Ancient trees arched overhead, their branches tangled like old friends holding hands. Moss clung to stone lanterns. A path of smooth river rocks wound through ferns and wildflowers, vanishing into mist.
It looked like…
No. It couldn't be.
I stood on unsteady legs, my clothes dry despite the rain, now wrapped in a soft yukata the color of a morning sky. My fingers trembled as I touched a low-hanging branch. Real. Solid.
Then I heard voices.
Light, warm, achingly familiar.
I followed the sound like a prayer, slipping between trees until I saw them
A porch. A house glowing with amber light in the rain.
On the steps, a girl with soft brown hair and a slightly crooked bow stood facing a man in a loose kimono. Her hands were clasped earnestly in front of her.
"I've always loved the zodiac story," she was saying, eyes bright with that quiet wonder I knew so well. "But… I always felt sad for the cat. He didn't mean to be left behind. He just… wanted to belong."
Shigure watched her, his usual playful mask slipping for just a breath. "Ah," he murmured, almost too softly to hear. "You see more than most, don't you, Tohru-kun?"
My chest ached.
The first scene. The beginning of everything.
I crept closer, hiding behind the thick trunk of a ginkgo tree, close enough to see the way Tohru's eyes shone with sparkles and hope, the way Shigure's gaze flickered just for a second toward the woods, as if sensing I was there.
But he didn't look my way.
And then he appeared.
Tall, elegant, with silver hair and a uniform too perfect for words. Yuki Sohma stepped onto the porch, briefcase in hand, and Tohru's face lit up like sunrise.
"Yuki-kun! Good morning!"
"Good morning, Honda-san." His voice was calm, polite… but when she turned to grab her bag, his expression softened just for her.
They walked down the path together, Tohru chattering, Yuki listening like every word mattered.
I stayed hidden, tears warm on my cheeks.
Not from fear.
Not from confusion.
From recognition.
These weren't just characters on a page anymore. They were real. Their pain was real. Their hope was real.
And for the first time in my life, I wasn't watching from the outside.
I was here.
As the rain slowed to a mist and the house stood quiet behind me, a thought bloomed, fragile as a new leaf
i dont know if i will return to my world suddenly in a minute or wont ever return but
What if… I stayed?
Not as a fan clutching a manga like a lifeline.
Not as a ghost watching from the shadows.
But as someone real.
Someone who could sit with Kyo when the weight of the cat pressed too hard on his chest.
Someone who could laugh with Tohru over burnt rice balls, or walk beside Yuki in comfortable silence when words felt too heavy.
I'd read their stories so many times that I knew the shape of their loneliness as well as my own.
I'd cried when Kyo screamed into the rain. I'd held my breath when Tohru whispered, "I don't want anyone to be alone."
I'd traced Yuki's smile in the margins of my notebook and wondered if anyone ever saw how tired he was beneath it.
And now-now -they were right here.
Breathing. Hurting. Hoping.
What if I could ease their pain, just a little bit earlier or more?
What if I could be the one who stayed when the world walked away?
The thought didn't feel like fantasy.
It felt like coming home.