AN: I'm gonna lay this down really frankly. This story is 100% self-indulgence. This is for playing with characterization and worldbuilding and practicing characterization with a pet OC and an alien harem. So like. PSA: Don't take this story more seriously than I am.

It was snowing in Tokyo, and the powder that fell from the sky and dusted the streets lent the city a festive atmosphere.

It couldn't touch Mikogami Hayato.

His day had started bad and only gotten worse. His mother was out of the country. His father didn't have time for him. He'd finally come home and his father had immediately threatened to ship him off again. Worse, he'd been enrolled in high school. Again. He was lonely, he was bored, and he was sick and fucking tired of being ignored except for when someone wanted to use him.

He was usually a pretty smart young man. Under normal circumstances, he would have known better than to pick a fight with three older boys. Especially ones who'd already demonstrated a ready willingness for violence. But he wasn't, and he did, and so three older boys had punched and kicked and shoved to the ground.

And then a rescuer came to take him away, just like he'd been wishing - dreaming - for so long.

"Well this doesn't look like a fair fight," said a smooth tenor voice. Hayato and his tormentors all turned to look at the newcomer in surprise. "I wonder, should I intervene?"

The speaker was a handsome young man just on the tall side of average. He was sharply dressed in a good quality suit and well-styled dark hair, and his stance was relaxed, with his hands in his pockets. As the others watched, he smirked, then took out one hand and made a fist.

The high schoolers, upon a moment's reflection, decided they weren't impressed. "Aw look," said the one with the beanie, grinning nastily and cracking his knuckles. "Another guy whose testosterone has gone to his head."

For some reason, the newcomer laughed out loud. The bullies' smiles faltered. "Do you think so?" The newcomer asked, still chuckling. "Hah. Then I'm off to an excellent start!" At that, he lunged forward into a short sprint. With his fist tucked close to his waist, he bowled into the one with the beanie, sending him to the ground clutching his stomach. The other two stepped back in alarm. "Is that the best you've got?" he asked. He scoffed, then leaned down and offered Hayato a hand. "Kid, you know self defence?"

Hayato took his hand and stood up. "I took classes for a year and a half," he answered defensively.

"Good, then you know the most important move."

Hayato stared, bewildered.

"Run." And still with a firm grasp on Hayato's hand, he was off. Hayato yelped in surprise, then scrambled to keep up as they did just that. The two teenagers standing by the park bench, and the one still picking himself off the ground, were too surprised to follow.

Unknown to them, they also left one more individual behind. Perched on a streetlight twenty feet away, a man with short silver hair and a sword in one hand watched them go with great confusion. Mutsu had felt the call ringing in his mind, beckoning him to his ashikabi. He had been ready, despite his misgivings, to jump down and intervene, to meet his ashikabi, to be winged. And then the young man in the suit had appeared, and all at once the beacon in his heart had guttered out, leaving only an ember.

That boy was his ashikabi. He had to be; it had been so clear only moments ago. But the powerful pull that had brought him to Tokyo from halfway across Japan was gone. In its place was not one, but two points of bright, warm potential. In the boy, yes, but also in the mysterious young man. Mutsu's brows furrowed. He leapt down from the light post into the shadows and followed the pair. Two ashikabi. He'd found two potential ashikabi. What was he to do now?

The man in the suit finally fell back into a walk as they approached a subway entrance. They had run for almost five minutes; four and a half minutes too long for Hayato. He sagged against the wall, breathing heavily.

After he caught his breath, he spoke. "After the way you talked, I wasn't expecting you to run."

"Neither were those punks," he replied, eyes dancing with mischief. "I'm Kiyoshi, by the way. And you?"

"Hayato." He offered a hand, and Kiyoshi shook it. They went down the stairs.

"All right, kid," Kiyoshi said as the reached the bottom. "Which way's home for you?"

"Oh." Hayato scowled. "I don't want to go home. Besides," he added, a little quieter, "I don't have any money for a train ticket on me."

"Wait, seriously? How did you get out here?"

"I sort of ran away from my driver."

"Your driver." He tousled his hair, laughing. "Well, I guess those boys did say your uniform's for some fancy school." He sighed. "All right. You shouldn't stay out in the cold, so how about you come to my place. I'll take you home whenever you're ready, and in return you can make sure no one charges me with kidnapping later."

Hayato bristled. "I'm not a child! I can go where I want!"

"Sure, fine," Kiyoshi said, making a placating gesture. "So are you coming or not?"

He flushed, embarrassed at his outburst. "Yeah. That sounds alright."

Kiyoshi's apartment was western-style, spacious and well-appointed. When they arrived, he shed his suit jacket at the door and swept back into the kitchen. "Take a seat in the living room," he called over his shoulder, opening a cupboard and pushing boxes aside. "I'll make some hot chocolate."

Hayato obeyed, sinking into the plush couch. The apartment, he thought, didn't look like the sort of place a young bachelor would live. It was clean and cozily decorated. The TV and the shelf of movies and games looked normal enough, at least. "Hot chocolate," he said to himself after a few minutes had passed. "What is he, a kid?"

"You're one to talk," Kiyoshi retorted, placing two mugs on the coffee table. He flopped into a chair and leaned forward. "So, what got you so upset?"

"Who says I'm upset?"

Kiyoshi raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his hot chocolate. "You ran away in freezing weather, without even a proper jacket. And you picked a fight with three guys who were older, bigger, and frankly scarier than you. None of that sounds like the actions of a person at peace with themselves and the universe."

Hayato's hands fisted on his knees, and the whole story came spilling out in a rush. Kiyoshi listened quietly until he finished. "And now Father's making me go to high school again, and it's pointless and stupid and boring. If they won't act like my parents, couldn't they at least treat me like an adult?" His voice was thick, and he reached for the hot chocolate and drank. "It's cold," he commented.

"Oh, I'll reheat it for you-"

"No, it's fine." He took another drink. "It's good."

Kiyoshi sighed. "Geez, kid. That's a lot. No wonder you're pissed."

"What would you know about it?" He muttered grumpily.

"More than you know. It's not the same, but I graduated college at eighteen and ran away across the Pacific right away."

"You went to America too? What made you come back?"

"Ah, not quite." He scratched a spot on the back of his neck. "I grew up over there and ran away here. I had dual citizenship, so last year when I turned twenty-one I picked Japan and just… stayed." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, the point is, I had trouble making friends too."

Hayato scowled. "So you think I should go back to High School."

"No way!" Kiyoshi laughed, and it was strangely light and soft compared to how he sounded at the park. "If you're smart enough that you had trouble relating to kids years older than you, it'll only be worse with kids your own age." He set his mug on the table with a clack. "No. Hold your ground and live your own way. Find something to do that makes you excited to get out of bed in the morning. And meet people." He grinned. "Meet all sorts of really strange people."

"Like you?" Hayato asked wryly.

"Who says I'm strange?" Kiyoshi joked.

"Dozens of people every day, I'm sure," he said. "But right now, me." More seriously, he asked, "So did you find it? The thing that makes you happy to get up in the morning?"

Kiyoshi grinned widely. "Sure did. I'm a famous actor, you know."

"I don't recognize you."

"Thank you, that's an excellent compliment."

"It's not a compliment."

"It is, though. I was working on a character study earlier tonight. If someone as sharp as you hasn't noticed yet, it can only mean that I'm doing a very good job."

Hayato frowned. "Are you telling the truth?"

"Cross my heart," he said, making the accompanying gesture.

Hayato watched plenty of television and movies. If Kiyoshi really was well-known, he ought to recognize him. He searched his features, trying to find a point of familiarity. Kiyoshi smiled again and leaned back in his chair. Then Hayato saw it. On the action movie poster behind him; a wide, straight nose that was a perfect match for Kiyoshi's, a smile with the same crooked tilt. Hayato did a double take. "You- you're Kiyoko Shouhatsu!" He sputtered. "You're a girl!"

He - she - grinned toothily. "See, I said you were sharp." All of a sudden, her voice seemed more feminine than before.

"But you're a girl!"

"Yep."

"But you took that guy down like it was nothing!"

"In the words of this kid I met, 'I know self-defense.'" Her eyes were dancing.

Hayato flushed at her teasing. "I can't believe this. You had me totally fooled. You still have me fooled. You look completely like a man."

"I'm flattered. I did work pretty hard on the makeup." She held out her hand. "So let's do this again. Hi, my name is Kiyoko. Call me Kiyo."

He took her hand. "Hi Kiyo," he said, awestruck. Then, "I mean, Kiyoko-sama!" He nodded at the poster behind her, exuberant. "I saw 'As The Rain Falls' last month! Orihime was amazing! I assumed you had a stunt double for the fight scene, but-"

"No," said Kiyo, smiling. "No stunt double. So far I've only worked with stunt doubles when there's vehicles involved. And it's just Kiyo, please."

"And you're the voice of Chihose-hime, and I'm at your house-"

"Yes, alright, but we've established I'm just your average socially-awkward prodigy, same as you. Moving on?"

He flushed. "Sorry. It's just- I'm a fan." Something occurred to him. "So, you're dressed as a man for a role?"

Kiyo nodded. "A TV drama that starts filming in about three months. It'll be my first major role in a TV show." She smiled earnestly. "Our scriptwriter is a fan of Shakespeare. I play a woman who crossdresses and works in a male host club. It'll be a romantic comedy, mostly, but she's also a pretty tough girl, and she manages to find a lot of trouble."

Remembering her demeanor back at the park, Hayato smiled slightly. If her character was anything like that… "I bet." He finished his drink with one last gulp and set the mug back on the table.

Kiyo checked her phone. "It's past eleven. Ready to go home?"

"I… would rather not. Is that okay? I've never used the subway much, and I've been in America, and-"

She held up a hand, smiling. "It's fine, really it is. Just," she tossed him her cell. "Call home so your driver doesn't worry, alright? I need to change out of this get-up, but then I'll set up the fold-out couch in the office for you. And I think I have some clothes you'll fit into for tonight." She stood and walked back towards the hall, then paused a moment, looking over her shoulder. "Oh yeah, I have to get used to long nights soon, and I don't have work tomorrow, so would you like to watch a movie?"

Hayato just had time to nod before she left. "Right. Call Hasegawa, then I can relax and watch 'A Maiden's Heart is a Battlefield.'" He flushed. "With Chihose-hime herself." And, filled with resolve, he moved to do just that.

They walked to the subway station the next morning, Kiyo this time without a wig or a binder, and in feminine clothes. She sorted out his tickets and talked him through his route. "You know, it's really nice to talk to someone else who's lived in America," she said when they were done. "I hope it is for you, too; they say culture shock is worse when you come back than it is when you leave." Hayato nodded shyly, and Kiyo gave an encouraging smile. "Hayato-kun, for what it's worth, I think you're a great kid. I'm glad I met you."

"Will I…" Hayato hesitated. "Can I see you again?" The look of open yearning on his face was endearing.

"Definitely," Kiyo assured him, feeling a surprising rush of affection. She pulled out her phone. "Here, let's exchange info. If you need anything, call me. My schedule's usually pretty full, but I can make time if you need it." She brought a finger to her lips. "And once my current project wraps up, I'll be mostly free for the next two months."

"Mostly?" Hayato prompted, bringing his phone up to hers.

"My character training," Kiyo said mischievously. She paused. That flash of yellow in the corner of her eye - had she seen it before? She turned to look, but saw nothing. Suddenly uneasy, she continued. "Well, anyway, you've got my number and my email. Don't be a stranger. In fact, are you any good at strategy games?"

"I'm pretty good," Hayato said with obviously false modesty.

"I've been playing Fire Emblem 19 and I get stuck in practically every other battle. Maybe you could come by and help sometime?" There it was again. Was someone following them? She didn't usually have trouble with fans or the press; she was good at blending in and not so very famous besides.

"I absolutely will," he said emphatically.

"Good." She checked her phone screen. "Best go now, or you'll be waiting a quarter-hour for the next train."

She waited until Hayato was out of sight, headed towards his platform, and made her way outside. There, in the crowd, a flash of bright golden yellow again. Feeling a bit foolish, she called, "I know you're there. Show yourself!" A few of the people around her turned to look at her curiously, but nothing else happened. She grimaced and made her way down the street a ways where there was no crowd of morning commuters. "I mean it," she said more quietly, her voice more firm than her conviction. It really could be nothing… But at that moment the soft crunch of boots on snowy pavement confirmed her suspicions. She spun around.

There was a man. He appeared to be about the same age as herself, but that was the only way they were even remotely similar. His hair was a shade between strawberry blonde and true silver. On close study he seemed somehow foreign, as if he wasn't Japanese - though he didn't particularly look like he was from anywhere else either. His clothes were like cosplay, and the spot of yellow she'd been seeing all morning was him. It was a bright golden yellow scarf, wrapped loosely around his neck like a cloak or shawl.

And he was holding a sword.

Kiyo stiffened, then steeled herself. "Who are you, and what do you want?" She demanded.

"I'm somewhat impressed that you noticed me," the man said instead of answering. The expression on his face was tentative. "I admit I'm somewhat confused," he continued. "Are you a man or a woman?"

Kiyo's eyes widened. She clenched her fists, making sure the strange man could see them. "How long have you been following me?"

"Only since last night," the man replied in a rush, as if that made it any better.

"I'll ask you again," she said venomously, "what do you want?"

The man sighed, looking harried. "This isn't going well at all. My name is Mutsu, and please- give me the chance to explain fully."

"Alright," said Kiyo, curious but wary. "We can talk over tea. You're buying." She turned and walked down the street towards a tea shop she'd been to before, not waiting to see if Mutsu would follow.

"Whichever she is," Mutsu muttered under his breath as he followed, "She's certainly formidable." She graciously pretended not to hear him.

Shortly, they were at a table indoors and Kiyo was warming her hands around the cup of a hot latte with a complicated name. She sighed and acknowledged Mutsu's presence. "Okay stalker, what's your story."

"I'm not a stalker," he said, looking very put-out.

"Fine. Then what are you?"

He shifted in his seat, then stopped himself. The cafe was all but empty at the moment, but he spoke quietly anyway. "It's complicated. Can we speak somewhere else?"

"Not a chance," said Kiyo, settling further into the booth. "I'm not going somewhere alone with some stranger who's been following me."

"I suppose I deserve that," he said. "Alright. I'll start at the beginning. I'm… an affiliate, I suppose you could say, of MBI."

Kiyo raised an eyebrow. "And what does a research and development conglomerate want with me that involves sending a spy?"

"No, they didn't send me. Not directly."

Kiyo prompted him to continue.

Mutsu sighed. "Promise to hear me out?"

"Fine."

"I'm what is called a Sekirei. An alien, one of a hundred or so discovered by MBI in 1999." Kiyo's eyes widened, but she kept pointedly silent. He continued. "MBI is organizing a tournament for next year; we're all expected to participate. The first part of it involves making sure that every one of us is attached to a human partner."

Kiyo thought she might be able to see where this was going. "Go on," she said tersely.

"This partner is called an ashikabi. If we can't find ours in time, any will do - we'll be attached to one whether we like it or not. So while I have little interest in MBI's tournament, I'd prefer to find my ashikabi sooner rather than later." He cleared his throat. "I… felt them calling me here, but the call evaporated right before I reached them. Not everyone has the potential to be an ashikabi. I don't know if it was you or that boy from before, but I thought it might be you, and if it was... I hoped you might accept me."

Kiyo crossed her arms and thought for a moment. "Assuming I believe what you're saying," she started, "accept you how, exactly?"

"... It's a mating bond," Mutsu explained reluctantly. "So you can understand why I'd prefer a beautiful woman to a teenage boy."

Kiyo's thoughts ground to a halt, caught between flattery, embarrassment, and no small amount of indignation. She started to speak, stopped herself, then held up a finger. "Just a moment," she said. "Mutsu, was it?"

"Number 05, Mutsu."

"Are you proposing to me?"

"You could put it that way," he said, his face showing he was aware of how ridiculous, how forward, it sounded. Well good, thought Kiyo, he should feel awkward.

"And what exactly does this entail?" Kiyo felt the pitch of her voice rising, and tried to calm herself.

"It's a psychic bond, sealed with a kiss."

"And it's permanent?" Her voice cracked on the last word.

"... Essentially, yes."

Kiyo placed her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands, processing the information for a few long moments. When she looked up, she saw Mutsu shifting uncomfortably. Though outwardly somewhat stoic, the set of his face and shoulders looked horribly nervous; the small worried crease in his brow was piteous. Kiyo recalled what he'd said, that he would have an 'ashikabi' next year no matter what, and it may not be someone he chose.

She made up her mind before she realized it.

"Fine," she said.

Mutsu looked up, hopeful. "You- you'll do it?"

"I'll give you a chance," Kiyo corrected. "We can date. I guess. I'll… make a decision later."

Mutsu's relief was much more powerful than his disappointment, and he grabbed her hand on impulse, bringing it up to his chest.

"I want some kind of proof first!" She said emphatically. "I'm not just taking your word for the alien thing."

"That I can provide," Mutsu said, his voice more lively than it had been all morning. He stood. "Come outside." She followed him out into the morning sun and the still empty street. "If you could put your arms around my neck?" He said, a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

Kiyo looked at him skeptically and obeyed, and he swept her up, one arm under her legs and the other around her waist. She yelped. She was half a foot shorter than him, but their weight was probably the same, and he'd picked her up like it was nothing.

"Hold on tight," he said, and she heard it rumble in the ear pressed to his shoulder. Then he jumped, and- as proof went, it was pretty good. They were forty feet in the air, then off across the rooftops at unbelievable speed. Kiyo supposed it was possible that he was a spirit or a cyborg or a government supersoldier instead, but at this point it made more sense to believe he was telling the truth.

Another building passed. Was she being kidnapped? She was about to speak up to that effect when he stopped and set her down on her own balcony. It was a fifteen minute walk from the train station and the cafe they'd visited. "... Right," she said breathlessly, a bit dizzy from the trip. "Mutsu-kun. Please take care of me." She used the traditional phrase for introduction.

Mutsu nodded, watching her intently. "And I as well, Kiyoko-sama."

"Ah, no, it's Kiyo-" She cut herself off. "Nevermind. Alright. Four PM, three days from now. We can have a late lunch before I go to work." She flushed, hesitated, then made a decision, drawing him in and placing a kiss on his cheek. "Don't be late," she said, "And I don't care if Hayato-kun can be one of these 'ashikabi' too; if you mess with him at all, I'll castrate you." She went inside, shutting the sliding door firmly behind her.

Mutsu brought a hand to his cheek where she'd kissed it. He leapt from the balcony, flustered. "That's… a good sign, right?"

Thankfully, Hayato recognized the area when he got off the train. Less fortunately, he couldn't remember what street Kiyo-nee had told him to follow to get back to his own neighborhood. He fingered the phone in his pocket hesitantly. He could call Hasegawa and ask to be picked up…

His pride rebelled. No. He was going to be independent, like Kiyo-nee. He was going to take responsibility for himself. He nodded, determined, and set off.

Half an hour later, after passing the same shop for the third time, he remembered his phone's map function. Checking it quickly and shivering - he'd refused Kiyo-nee's offer to let him borrow a coat, thinking his uniform jacket would be enough for the trip home - he realized to his chagrin that he'd managed to wander five blocks in the wrong direction. "At least I know where I'm going, now," he said to himself. He turned around and kept walking, eyes fixed on the little marker that represented his own location on the map. Suddenly, someone ran out in front of him. He collided with the figure and they both went down.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" Hayato said indignantly.

"I'm so sorry!" said the person now sprawled on top of him. "Are you alright?"

It was a girl, perhaps a year or two older than him. Her sweet, half-lidded eyes were inches from his own, and the tips of her princess haircut brushed his cheek.

"Oh," she said after a moment. "You're really pretty." She made no move to get up.

"... Um," he got an arm under him and sat up, dislodging her partly. "It's fine? Wait, where's my phone?"

The girl moved off his lap and kneeled next to him on the concrete, a soft 'clank' issuing from her long pleated skirt.

"'Clank'?" Hayato said uneasily. He looked down. "Oh no, my phone!" The girl had fallen on top of it and it was completely crushed, almost as if it had been struck by something metal. He turned to the girl, filled with dismay. "Why?" His voice filled with anguish. "Kiyo-nee's number was in there!"

She yelped, gesturing frantically. "I'm sorry! Ah, I can replace it!"

"Replacing Kiyo-nee's number is impossible," he grumbled, and reached for the phone. Popping open the mangled back, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank god. The sim card's intact. What did you even hit this with? Have you got a longsword under there?"

The girl flushed and shot to her feet. "Ahaha… no," she said, a wary smile on her face, "I must have just landed on it with my knee. Joints sure are tough, huh?" She laughed nervously, covering her mouth with the corner of one long sleeve.

Hayato stood as well, brows furrowed. "Geez, talk about unlucky."

"I'll really replace it," the girl said with a slight bow.

"... No, it's fine. I can do that. But…" he pointed at her imperiously. "Take responsibility! I don't know how to get home!"

She recoiled from his pointing finger. "Ehhh? How am I supposed to know?" She drooped. "But it is my fault. Oh no…"

Hayato watched her for a moment, then sighed. "It's fine," he relented. "I got a look at the map; I probably won't get lost again if I just walk in a straight line. When was I supposed to turn again? …Who are you, anyway?"

The girl dipped her head again. "Number 15, Himeko! I really am sorry for running into you. I was looking for someone and I got excited…"

His expression twisted in bewilderment. "Hayato Mikogami. Good luck finding… whoever it is. I guess I'll be on my way-"

"Oh no!" Himeko exclaimed. "I'll walk you home! It's the least I can do after crushing your phone like that!" She struck a pose filled with confident resolve.

"Well… okay." As it happened, Hayato didn't get lost again, and he made it home without too much more trouble. At the front gate, he turned to face Himeko. "Thank you for walking with me," he said courteously. "Perhaps I could offer you lunch for your trouble? Or just tea?"

Himeko hesitated, obviously tempted, then shook her head. "No, I'd better not. I have to keep looking for my ashikabi-sama. He's so close, I just know it!" She bowed one more time, said goodbye, and ran off again.

Hayato stared after her for a moment, then pressed the intercom to call for Hasegawa to let him in. "Strange girl," he said curiously. "'Ashika bi'? Sea lion… fire? What?"

Homura had not had a particularly good day. The Plan was starting; numbers 13 through 15 had been released and already he was running himself ragged. Number 13: Amebane, number 14: Chiyo, and number 15: Himeko had all ended up in completely different parts of the city. Just tracking them down to check up on any of them was the work of several hours. He'd have to ask Matsu if she might help him out. Satellites could keep track of people, couldn't they? He'd rather not get nearer to Amebane or Chiyo than he really had to, anyway; both of them were thoroughly unpleasant characters.

At least they were sensible enough that he didn't feel guilty leaving them to their own devices while he worked. He wished they'd just get winged already, before the next batch were released. He'd thought Himeko might have found hers a few days ago when she'd followed some kid home, but then she'd turned around and left again! Homura asked Matsu later, and she confirmed that Hayato Mikogami was definitely one of the individuals MBI had identified as a potential ashikabi. It made him want to tear out his hair.

And to think that, later on, MBI might release as many as ten sekirei in the same week.

He wasn't looking forward to it. Since his own release the previous month, his hours at the host club had quickly grown longer and more demanding. After only a week of his self-appointed duty he felt like a candle burning at both ends, and wasn't that an appropriate metaphor? But he had to make rent, and he had to search for his own ashikabi as well, so he dutifully showed up at the club five nights a week.

On this particular evening, he dragged himself into the club nearly twenty minutes late. One of his coworkers flagged him down. "There you are, Kagari!" Toshiro was a man in his late twenties with a powerful voice and a rocker's haircut. He waved Homura over to where he was leaning against the bar.

"You look lonely, Toshiro," Homura teased.

He took it good-naturedly. "Rika-chan's going to be spending some time with me; she gets off work in an hour. Anyway," he switched tracks. "The boss was asking for you."

A little concerned, Homura nodded and headed for the back. "Sir?" he said, opening the door. "I'm sorry, I was a little late-"

The boss interrupted him. "Ah good, you're here," he said, and Homura realized the boss was not alone in his office.

"Evening," the other man said. "It's good to meet you. Call me Kiyoshi."

"Kagari," the boss continued, "Kiyoshi here is new to the business, like you were a month ago. Since you picked things up so fast, I was hoping you might show him the ropes."

"Ah… yes, sir."

"Good. Then get out there, both of you. You're late."

"My apologies, sir." He nodded to the newcomer and followed him back out to the bar.

Homura examined the man as Kiyoshi swung onto a stool and ordered a drink from the bartender; a mixed juice, not a cocktail. He looked about the same age as Homura. He was an inch or two shorter, but heavier-set, his figure more athletic than Homura's. His face was attractive, though better described as open and friendly rather than handsome or elegant.

The cut of his clothes was excellent. Homura told him so, and said, "That's one thing you've already got down. We're all in suits most of the time, so if you want your looks to stand out, then a good fit is important." He gestured to another of their coworkers, crossing the room with a couple of drinks. "Take Seta, for instance. You're wearing essentially the same thing, but his is off the rack, and it doesn't flatter him nearly as much."

"Mine's off the rack too," Kiyoshi admitted, taking a sip of his drink. "But I had a feeling that would be the case, so I altered it."

"You sew?" Homura asked, smiling curiously.

Kiyoshi nodded. "I know how to wear makeup, too. I did drama in high school. I picked things up." He raised an eyebrow, and Homura chuckled obligingly.

"So you know all about putting on a show."

"Oh, sure." He grinned, then continued. "What I'm at a loss for is flirting. It feels too much like manipulation, and I end up holding back. While my natural charm is considerable," he said dramatically, "I'm no good at drawing people in. I don't feel comfortable convincing them to shell out or anything like that."

"That's a bit of an obstacle, in this profession," Homura said wryly.

"Well, practice makes perfect, right?" They exchanged smiles.

The front door opened, and Homura looked over to see who'd come in. "Well," he said, "That lovely lady is one of mine, so stick with me and I'll show you how it's done."

"Lead the way, Kagari-san."

Kiyo was completely wrung out by the end of the evening. She'd designed the character of 'Kiyoshi' to have more social stamina than herself, but acting could only go so far. Eight hours at the host club… would take a lot of getting used to.

She waved to a still hard-at-work Homura on her way back to the staffroom, thanking him silently for his help. He smiled back and nodded his head, then returned his attention to the woman beside him. Kiyo grabbed her winter coat and her outdoor shoes from her locker in the staffroom and left through the back door.

She'd barely made a few steps when a shadow alighted on the ground right behind her. "Shit!" she swore in English, jumping half a foot in surprise.

"Kiyoko-sama."

"Don't do that," she protested. "And I told you, it's Kiyo."

"Kiyo-sama." Mutsu said instead, and Kiyo gave up on correcting him.

"I thought I set our next date for Wednesday," she said instead.

Mutsu frowned. "Yes. But I- While I understand that you are an adult, and can take care of yourself… It's very late. If I could walk you home, I would be… reassured."

Kiyo crossed her arms and set off, her expression neutral.

"Kiyo-sama-"

"It's okay, Mutsu-kun. I appreciate it. It's... sweet, I guess."

Mutsu flushed. Kiyo glanced back and, seeing him, lost some of the tenseness in her shoulders.

"What am I supposed to think of you?" she asked herself, exasperated. He acted like something out of a bad romance novel. Kiyo kept finding herself on guard for him to do something you'd expect from one of those heroes, something possessive and controlling. Then he'd make that face instead: that horribly unsure, halfway adoring face, and what was she supposed to do about that? "I'll give you the benefit of doubt, alright?"

He nodded, relieved. "Thank you. For my peace of mind, if nothing else."

They made it halfway to the nearest train station before Kiyo sighed and spoke again. "You're being awfully quiet. You were quiet at lunch this afternoon, too."

"I'm not much of a conversationalist," Mutsu protested, frowning softly.

"I'm starting to realize that."

"You can talk, if you'd like. I enjoyed listening to you."

Kiyo ran a hand through the short wig she wore as Kiyoshi. "Maybe." She thought for a moment, then asked, "How would you feel about carrying me again?" She cleared her throat. "I mean, it's a little intimate, but I'm nearly dead on my feet, so I might just fall asleep anyway…"

"Yes," Mutsu replied without hesitation. His face reddened. "That would be fine."

"Are you sure? It's a long way if we don't take the train."

"I don't mind," he said emphatically, offering his arms.

She flashed a quick smile, looping her arms around his neck and hopping up into his arms. "Don't drop me," she said.

Mutsu nodded shortly, face still red. He gripped her more securely and leapt up, and then they were off across the skyline. Kiyo pressed her face into his shoulder, smiling softly. He was sweet. He was really sweet.