The Proposition

Nine times out of ten, when you look inside your refrigerator and smell the last of your milk souring within the small, dark compartment, you know that the lights aren't turning on not because the lightbulb broke, but rather because your electricity has finally been cut off.

Life is depressing that way.

I grew up in an orphanage. It wasn't one of those abusive institutions that teen fiction authors describe in horrid detail, in fact, it was the exact opposite. I grew up in a 3-bedroom house with eleven other kids. The room I shared with two other girls and our orphanage mother had cream colored wall paper and sunflower patterned curtains. The other two rooms were divided among seven boys, and everybody shared the kitchen area like a big, happy family. Students from the nearby high school sometimes dropped by to help take care of us, and, I suppose, that's where I went wrong.

The orphanage mother, Kimiko-san, used to tell me, "Haruka-chan, if you can dream it then you can be it," with a smile like a ray of sun even the luxurious drapes next door wouldn't be able to keep out.

Ah… my neighbor. He was such a ray of sunshine back then and he still is. His smile is reminiscent of my grandmother's armpit hair – something I've never seen and have never dared to imagine. Well, I'm exaggerating a little, but the point is that he's usually taciturn and surly.

Anyways, Kimiko-san used to tell me I could be anything I wanted to be, and she was right. I've held just about every (menial) job imaginable, but she failed to mention that it's much easier to lose a job than get one and, more often than not, I will be something that I don't want to be. More specifically, I mean, unemployed. No matter how hard I try to stave it off, unemployment follows me like a devoted stalker.

If only I had a devoted stalker… If I had a devoted stalker, I would ask him for money, but, unfortunately, only people like my old roommate Izumi, who got married last month, have devoted stalkers.

Speaking of Izumi, she asked me to be her bridesmaid. I told her over the phone, "No. I haven't seen you in two years." Incidentally, our eighteenth birthday (Goddammit, why do we even share the same birthday?) was two years ago and we were both politely asked to leave the orphanage.

Speaking of being politely asked to leave the orphanage –

I should finish talking about Izumi.

Despite the firmness in my tone, she pleaded with me, "C'mon, Haruka, it'll be just like old times!"

"By 'old times', do you mean when I went skinny dipping with the guys while you and Shizuka picked flowers?" Living in an orphanage didn't mean we went hungry every night, but it did mean that we went without stylish clothes and, more importantly in this case, swimsuits. So like any group of rambunctious, resourceful children, we swam in our birthday suits instead. Of course, that practice stopped when puberty hit. "Or when you told our entire class I was a juvenile delinquent?" That one was a complete lie… at the time.

Izumi's voice turned cold. "Look, Haruka, Shizu said she'd go if you do, so you better be there." And then she hung up. Geez, some people never change.

I understand if she wanted me to go to her wedding in order to get Shizuka to go too, but why did I have to be her bridesmaid?! Forgive me for being bitter, but the money I ended up spending on a bridesmaid dress could've paid the rest of this month's electricity bill, and Shizuka ended up going into labor that morning so she didn't make it anyways.

Their lives are moving so quickly. Forget about getting married and having children, I haven't even had a boyfriend. Sure, I've had a crush or two, but- Who am I kidding? I've only have one crush.

It's hot.

Today is day twelve of my most recent unemployment. My longest record is three months and twenty nine days, but I managed by crashing at the bar for a while.

About the juvenile delinquent thing… I did eventually fall off the beaten path, and joined HOMRA as a vassal of the red king Suoh Mikoto along with the neighbor I mentioned earlier and his friend, but we didn't go around and hassle kids for money or anything like that. It was just nice to have somewhere to belong.

I, as per Kimiko-san's wishes, kept at school despite my poor grades and sad attendance record and graduated at the bottom of my class. That's not the important part though. What matters is I graduated, and that's what employment agencies like to see. On the other hand, they don't like to see my on and off relationship with work. Every job I lose, for whatever reason, is another red flag marking me as undesirable.

Not physically, if I do say so myself. Earlier I mentioned that only people like Izumi have devoted stalkers, and I maintain my position because people like me have amateur stalkers. They 'fall in love' at first sight, but quickly opt for a career change after tasting the underside of my shoe.

I admire the tenacity with which some of Izumi's stalkers pursued her, even after I 'dealt with them'. They stalked her like the efforts of unemployment and the sun's hot rays stalk me combined, but I digress.

It's hot. Why am I outside on such an ungodly hot day? Because it's on days like this that lazy teenagers haphazardly discard their bottles and cans on the side walk. One man's trash is another's income. Not only am I earning a living, but I'm also racking up good karma by saving the world one piece of litter at a time.

So yeah… that's how I spend my days. Of course, I'm still looking for a job, so I try and keep my eye out for any open positions. I think the most challenging part is steering clear of the kinds of places I like to avoid. For example, on this lovely, sunny day I spotted a rather rare bottle on the next street corner, but it was dangerously close to the bar, where I might encounter Misaki, a fiery redhead who my childhood neighbor was enamored with for a while (not romantically, I think), so I grit my teeth and ignored it.

But then, lo and behold, I see another rather rare bottle later lying surreptitiously on the edge of both a gutter and blue territory. How can I pass up both of them? I mean, it's been a year and a half since Mikoto-san died, so I probably won't be recognized by anybody, and what are the chances that Saruhiko, my old neighbor, will be passing by at the precise moment I bend down to pick up a piece of trash?

My time to deliberate is cut short when I see a foot heading straight towards the can. Without sparing a moment to think, I drop my bag of cans and sprint forward, but it quickly becomes clear that I'm not going to make it in time. I should have worn my wheels. As a last resort, I launch into a forward roll, feeling very badass. In the background, I can faintly make out a pair of voices bickering. It goes something like this:

"It's not there."

"It has to be!"

"Whatever, just-"

I clutch the bottle in my hand victoriously. It's surprisingly clean. Sure, there's a startled businessman's crotch in my face and a few bottles spilled out of my bag when I dropped it, but everything else is good.

But then I turn around to add my acquisition to the collection and, all of a sudden, Hidaka Akira and the otaku are standing on the sidewalk, staring at me.

"Did you guys find it?"

Doumyouji Andy and Akiyama Himori appear from around the corner. And, to make matters worse, the blue king, Munakata Reisi, and Awashima Seri come walking from the other direction.

How is it that I've managed to avoid everybody I know for an entire year and a half, but then run into basically everybody in Scepter 4 while picking up a glass bottle?

The only person who looks remotely pleased is Munakata. And I'm not sure that's a good thing.

"Kurokawa Haruka…" he turns my name around on his tongue, looking oddly contemplative. "It's been quite a while."

"Uh… no," I want to say, "I don't think it has." But I wisely decide to keep my mouth shut. Instead, I nod mutely, more aware than ever of the eyes of our onlookers. How does he know my name!?

"How would you like to join Scepter 4?"