Authors Note: SURPRISE!

We started writing this back in 2007. We finished it in 2009ish, but left it alone despite minor occasional pokes due to embarrassment and also the side-splitting laughter that popped up everytime we reread it. We make no apologies. You should probably have no expectations. You should probably also not read this in a library or classroom or some place where silence is a virtue. Unless you can keep a straight face, in which case, more power to you.

Cross-posted to archiveofourown under our psuedonyms.

Momo was not a good chef. However, not being good at something had never stopped him from trying, especially today of all days. Why today? Today was the third of March, and Momo felt like cooking something. What more reason did he need?

Five years out of high school had taught Momo that if he was going to cook something, he had to try his hardest and so did everything around him, including the oven, which therefore should be put on the highest setting! So he cranked the dial and in the meantime, went out grocery shopping for all the necessary ingredients for Kaidou's dinner.

Did we mention this was for Kaidou? Well, it was. Momo always made dinner for Kaidou on the third of March, and this year was definitely no exception! Definitely not! Even if it was the first time, that didn't make a difference! Absolutely it didn't! Yeah!

In his haste to make something good and pleasing for Mamushi, Momo took his time shopping, picking out this and that, these and those, until his hands were full of bags that he carted merrily back to his apartment, fully prepared to start cooking. This would be a wonderful meal.

So engrossed was he in his planning and visions of food that he did not notice his house was gone until he tried to open the door that was not there.

"What?!" he exclaimed, in disbelief. "Where did my house go?!"

He was informed by a nearby fireman that the apartment complex had burned down, due to the negligence of somebody leaving their oven on while they went out to get groceries. Ashamed, Momo looked down at the bags of groceries in his hands. True, he had the groceries, but he had lost his house. Poor Momo.

So now what? He had groceries, but he had no home. And it was going to be night soon, so he'd better find a place to stay.

But where to go?

The doorbell rang.

Kaidou looked up from feeding his cat Pichi. Who could it be? The only person he had coming over today was Momoshiro, and the idiot wasn't supposed to be here for another hour at least. Was it Inui-senpai again? If Kaidou had to tell him he wasn't interested one more time...

Getting up, he headed to the door, already preparing a speech to send Inui on his way again ("Inui-senpai, I told you—"). Imagine his surprise when Kaidou opened the door and found not his desperate senpai, but Momoshiro, hands full of groceries and the stupidestgrin on his stupid face.

"Hi," Momo said.

Kaidou frowned. "What are you doing here? You're early."

"Yeah, I know." Momo would have rubbed his head in embarrassment, but his hands were full of groceries. "Um. Can I use your oven?"

Kaidou's frown deepened. "Why?"

Momo fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Because yours is closer than mine and I didn't want to trek the food all the way home, of course!"

Kaidou stared at him, his expression very clearly saying Walk Anyway.

Momo just grinned and leaned into the doorway. "Now are you going to let me in or not, Mamushi? It's cold out here, really cold."

Kaidou had no choice but to open the door wider and let him in. Knowing Momo's "knack" for cooking, he was somewhat apprehensive to let the other man anywhere near his oven, but Momo was stubbornly persistent (when was he not?) and Kaidou didn't want to listen to his complaining if Momo didn't get to cook, so he retreated to the living room with Pichi and let Momo have at it.

By the fifth time the smoke alarm had gone off, Kaidou was more than regretting his decision.

"Let me do it," he snapped, snatching the spatula out of Momo's hands and wondering what the black mess on the stove was and how he was going to save it. "You'll just burn the kitchen down if you keep trying."

For some reason, Momo winced and handed over the pan without so much as a squeak.

Kaidou glared at him and chucked the contents down the garbage disposal.

"Hey!"

"There's nothing I can do to make it edible," Kaidou pointed out, already looking in the fridge for something fast and filling enough to satisfy even Momo's appetite. Why was he feeding this big doofus anyway?

Momo stood there awkwardly. "But I wanted to make dinner for you," he mumbled.

Kaidou felt a little bad for him, but it didn't stop his stomach from growling. "Just get out. Go play with Pichi or something."

Oddly obedient, Momo picked up the cat and took him out of the kitchen. Kaidou heard him muttering as he closed the door behind him. "Stupid Mamushi, won't let others try to help..."

"I don't want you burning down my kitchen!" Kaidou shouted, before turning back to the fridge. He sighed. At least Momo would leave after dinner.

He didn't. Somehow or other Momo ended up staying the night, and the night after that, and the night after that. On the morning of the fourth day, something snapped, and it wasn't the rubber band that had just ricocheted off Kaidou's head.

"That's it," Kaidou shouted amidst Momo's badly muffled snickers, "You don't live here! Get out! I'm tired of it—you—just GO HOME ALREADY!"

"But, Mamushi—"

The look on his face reminded Kaidou of Pichi when she was hungry, but that didn't stop him from yelling once more (Pichi had retreated behind the sofa, anyway, so there was no need to feel guilty). "GET OUT! I'M SICK OF YOUR FACE!"

That was the last straw for Momo. Damned if he'd let Mamushi insult him! Momo huffed himself up and shouted back. "Well, maybe I never liked yours, either!"

"Oh yeah?"

"YEAH!"

And that was how Momo ended up on his butt on the front steps, with only a shirt and some pants he'd borrowed from Kaidou's drawer when Mamushi wasn't looking. He didn't even have a toothbrush.

Kaidou had locked the door behind him, and Momo knew that bothering him would only make the entire thing worse. He sighed sadly. Now where was he supposed to go?

...to somebody else's home, of course! Momo had friends. He was sure one of them would take him in. That was what friends were for, right?Right.

Momo fished out his cell phone.

Oishi picked up the phone, which was ringing. "Hello? This is Oishi!" he said cheerfully.

"Oishi-senpai!" cheered the voice from the other end. "This is Momo!"

"Momo! What a surprise! I haven't heard from you in ages." Oishi shifted the phone to the other ear, prepared for a lengthy and juicy catch-up conversation. He hadn't seen Momo in years. "How've you been?"

"Fine, fine, I've been great!" His voice sounded a bit strained. Oishi wondered if Momo might be gritting his teeth. A new habit, maybe? He hoped it wasn't causing any dental problems! "How about you, Oishi-senpai?"

"I've been good!" It was so nice of Momo to call him.

"Good, good." He could hear Momo breathing on the other end for a moment. Oishi was just about to break the silence with asking 'so, how's Kaidou?' but Momo beat him to it with another question. "So, where do you live these days?"

Oishi was thrilled to give him the exact address.

"Really?" Momo sounded surprised. His breathing was heavy in Oishi's ear. Was he walking? "That's not too far from where I am, not too far at all!"

"Oh? Where are you?" Oishi didn't wait for Momo's response, carrying on with the excitement of a sudden idea. "You should come visit us sometime, then!"

"That'd be great!" said Momo, then caught himself. "Wait—us?"

"Yes, Eiji and I!" Oishi still couldn't believe it himself. "We're living together—he lives here with me! In the same house. He's upstairs, would you like to talk to him?"

"Ah—no, senpai, that's okay. Maybe... I shouldn't come over then."

Something about the way he said that caused Oishi to sit up straighter in his chair. "Momo? Are you okay?"

Oishi's response was so fast that Momo was taken aback. He'd almost forgotten how quickly Seigaku's old fukubuchou went into Mother Hen Mode.

"Uh," he started, wondering how he was going to get out of this, "I, uh—"

Like a lightbulb, an idea suddenly appeared.

"No, senpai, everything's fine." He took care to sound as much like a kicked puppy as he could. It always worked on Kaidou, although maybe that was just because Kaidou liked puppies.

Oishi wasn't fooled for an instant by the deflecting words. "Momo, we may not be in school together anymore, but you know I'm always willing to listen to your problems. I will extend every offer of hospitality that I can! A shoulder to lean on, a shoulder to cry on, a warm meal, a bed to sleep in—"

"Wait wait wait," Momo interrupted. "Say that again?"

"A shoulder to lean on—"

"No, no, the bit about the bed!"

"A bed to sleep in!"

"Yes!"

"Do you need a bed, Momo?"

"Yes!"

"Well, I have a spare bedroom, all fresh and ready-made just for you, Momo, for as long as you need it!"

"Oh, Oishi-senpai!"

"Momo!"

If he hadn't been holding the phone to his ear, Oishi would have extended his arms, waiting for Momo to run to the loving embrace of Seigaku's mother.

"When can you come?"

"Actually, I'm at your front door!"

Oishi looked out the window and saw Momo waving at him. He waved back enthusiastically.

"I'll be there in a minute," he called through the glass, "Let me tell Eiji and I'll be right there!"

"Okay," Momo said, through the cell phone, "I have no idea what you're saying, since I can't read lips! I'll just wait out here in the cold."

Oishi hung up the phone and scurried upstairs. "Eiji~! You'll never guess who called!"

"Was it Momo?"

"How did you know?" Oishi replied, stunned at Eiji's perception.

Eiji grinned. "I could hear you. Is he coming over?"

"He needs a place to stay. I'm going to give him the spare bedroom."

Eiji's face fell, and Oishi remembered too late that Eiji had been sleeping in the spare bedroom. Smart move, Oishi. "O-oh."

Oishi thought quickly. Like a lightbulb, an idea occurred to him. "You can sleep in my room! With me, in my bed!"

Eiji's face lit up, and Oishi knew he'd said the right thing. "Really?!"

"Yes!" Oishi said, "I'm sure Momo won't stay too long. You can have your room back when he's gone!"

So excited was Oishi that he missed the sudden heartstricken look crossing Eiji's face.

Oishi smiled enthusiastically. "And then we'll all be happy!"

He moved forwards to embrace his one and only, but Eiji held him back. "Eiji?"

Devastated, Eiji choked out, "Oishi, you—you idiot!"

"Eiji! Eiji, wait! Come back!"

Too late. Eiji ran down the stairs and out the door, pausing only to glare at Momo with everything he was worth.

"This is all your fault! Momo!"

Then he ran off into the night.

Except it was still morning.

Momo looked from the retreating form of his senpai to his other senpai, standing on the stairs, one arm flung out to the other half of his soul as it fled into the distance. His face was a mask of despair.

Momo just kind of... stood there.

"Oishi-senpai...?"

Oishi heaved a great sigh. "Come in, Momo. I'll show you to your room."

Momo took advantage of Oishi's hospitality as long as he could, which was a couple of days. But then it started to bother him. Something wasn't right.

His first clue was breakfast.

"I hope you like these," Oishi said, putting some pancakes on Momo's plate, "They were Eiji's favorite."

The second clue was Oishi showing Momo photos of the last few years.

"This is Eiji and me at the park...and this is Eiji and me playing tennis...and this is more of Eiji and me playing tennis...and this is Eiji and me at the beach...and this is Eiji and me playing tennis...and this is Eiji and me moving in...and this is Eiji—you don't want to see that picture. This is Eiji and me playing tennis..."

The third clue was Eiji's toothbrush, still in the bathroom.

Momo found Oishi holding it in his hand. "What will he do without his toothbrush, Momo? It was like a part of him. How vividly I remember—"

Momo really didn't want to know what Oishi remembered. Something had to change.

The morning of the third day, after the third pancake breakfast, he called Eiji's cell phone. He had a speech all ready, but the moment Eiji picked up with a sleepy groan, something entirely different came out.

"Eiji-senpai you have to come back Oishi's going insane and he won't stop talking about you and he won't stop making pancakes and showing me photos and I'm getting sick of pancakes I don't want to be here anymore take your room and your toothbrush baaaaack, pleeeease!"

The conversation that followed was long, heart-felt, and angsty. We'll spare you the details.

When Oishi answered the door later that afternoon, who should be standing there but his one-and-only, his doubles partner, his True Love, his pancake-eating-toothbrush-using friend, Eiji.

He conveyed all his feelings into one word.

"EIJI!"

Eiji's response was just as heartfelt as they ran towards each other across a field of sparkles and daisies, arms outstretched.

"OISHI!"

They met halfway. In the midst of the passionate rejoicing that followed, Momo slipped out the back door.

Out on the street once more, Momo pulled out his cell phone. Kaidou obviously didn't want him back, and he didn't want to intrude on the almost cliché happiness of the Golden Pair. Who else was there?

He scrolled through the numbers on his phone. Well, there was Fuji-senpai. Did Momo want to call Fuji-senpai?

He looked at the number.

666-6661

Momo decided no.

The next number in his phone was Inui's. After Inui and Kaidou's—whatever-it-had-been, Momo did not want to go see him. Inui-senpai was scary. He looked at Momo in a scary way. He did not want to be force-fed Juice or whatever new concoction Inui had made up in the past few years. No, Momo did not want that at all.

It was with great relief that Momo came upon Taka's number.

Some time in the evening, Taka was working busily with dead fish when his phone rang. Setting his knife down and wiping his hands on a towel, he picked it up. "Kawamura Sushi."

"Taka-san! Long time no see!"

"Momo!" Taka said, smiling, "Good to hear from you! How've you been?"

"Oh, good. Listen, Taka-san."

"Hmm?" Taka had picked up his knife and started cutting again.

"Are you...doing anything tonight?"

Taka froze. Was... Momo... asking him out? It had been so long since his last date...

"N-nothing, Momo," he stammered out, suddenly as nervous and uncoordinated as he'd been back in middle school. "I'm free. Why?"

Momo didn't sound at all hesitant. "Well, I was hoping I could stay at your house tonight!"

Momo is so forward, Taka thought. It would be nice to see his friend again, even if—well. A light blush settled on his cheeks. "Of course, Momo, of course you can—"

The door slid open, interrupting Taka in mid-sentence. He looked up to see who it was. His eyes widened.

"Fu-fujiko!"

"Good evening, Taka-san," Fuji said, politely, "Who's on the phone?"

He must be blushing furiously, or else Fujiko would not be looking at him that way! Embarrassed, Taka stuttered. "N-nobody."

"Hmm." Taking a seat at the counter, Fuji interlaced his fingers and laid his chin on them, still smiling. "I don't believe you, Taka-san. Who is it?"

Faced with that smile, Taka-san had no choice. He could never refuse Fuji anything. "It's Momo," he admitted.

"Ah." Fuji's smile widened, and he held out a slim hand. "Let me talk to him, please, Taka-san."

"Sure," Taka heard himself say, and handed over the phone. Fuji put it to his ear.

The temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees as tensai Fuji Syusuke opened his eyes.

"Hello, Momo."

The dial tone sounded from Taka's phone less than two seconds later. Fuji flipped it shut and handed it back to Taka with a warmer smile. "There."

Taka took it and tucked it away, disappointed and oddly relieved. He would've loved to have spent time with Momo, but Fuji was here now, looking at him so peacefully, so expectantly...Taka never knew what that look meant. And Fuji had so many looks.

"You seem like you're lonely, Taka-san," Fuji said mildly, as Taka resumed his work.

"I guess."

"Well, so am I."

Taka blinked. Had Fuji just—no, Taka must have imagined it. Where had that come from? It wasn't possible. Fuji's raised eyebrow couldn't mean anything special.

At least, Taka didn't think so. He turned back to his fish and said nothing.

"I'm lonely, Taka-san."

Taka glanced up. Fuji's voice had dropped into a lower register—almost husky-sounding. Quite throaty. Was Fuji coming down with a cold? Should he mention it? But no, that might be rude –

"Taka-san! Did you hear me?"

Taka blinked. Had he just been standing there staring? How embarrassing. Color rose to his cheeks.

"Ah, sorry, Fujiko. I did, I was just—lost in thought for a minute."

"A good thought, I hope?"

For the life of him Taka couldn't remember. Not with the way Fuji was looking at him, both eyebrows raised almost expectantly, his chin on his hands—um. "Um—well—"

Just then Fuji's phone rang. It buzzed loudly on the counter between them, startling them both. Taka swallowed whatever-it-was he'd been about to say, relieved and—oddly—a little disappointed. Fuji just looked annoyed. "Sh-shouldn't you get that?"

"Hmm?" Fuji acted like he couldn't even hear the phone. Taka, for his part, couldn't. "No. Ignore it, Taka-san. What were you thinking about?"

Taka couldn't. "What if it's important? When Momo called—"

"It isn't Momo," Fuji practically snapped, "And it's not important. It's Tezuka, wondering why he hasn't heard from Atobe all day. If I don't pick up, he'll call Oishi next. Oishi will answer. He's not in the middle of something...like we are."

The phone fell silent. Taka gaped like a fish out of water. "We?"

"Yes. 'We'. At least...we could be."

The phone buzzed again, lighting up with a text message. DON'T LET YOUR GUARD DOWN flashed across the screen. Neither of them noticed. Fuji only had eyes for Taka and Taka, as he always did, found himself unable to look away—but for the first time, he was wondering if that might not be such a bad thing. For the first time they only had eyes for each other. Even if Fuji's weren't open.

"What were you thinking about?" Fuji asked, and finally Taka had an answer.

"You," he blurted, and when Fuji smiled, Taka's heart leapt like a fish jumping out of the ocean, flopping its way towards the sky.

Back on the street with nearly all of his closest friends unwilling or unable to give him a room for the night, Momo looked carefully over the numbers stored in his phone. He had gone through all his senpai from Seigaku, so... perhaps with another school he'd have better luck. Momo dialed Kamio.

Kamio picked up on the second ring. "Hello? This is Kamio."

"Kamio!" Momo exclaimed, "This is Momo! What are you doing tonight?"

Kamio's mouth fell open in disbelief and he let out a few unflattering squawks before his vocal cords started to work properly. Then he blushed in outrage. "Are you insane? Calling me up out of nowhere and asking if I wanted to go out with you?! I do NOT! Of course not! I'm in a very happy relationship with Shinji, thank you very much, I don't need idiots like you that I haven't seen in years coming along and—"

"Are you insane? Call me up out of nowhere and asking if I want to go out with you? I do NOT! Of course not! I'm in the middle of a perfectly wonderful evening, thank you very much, and on top of that I have a relationship that's just about to change drastically and I don't need idiots like you that I haven't seen in years coming along and –"

Shinji walked in at precisely that moment and stopped in his tracks. "Our relationship is going to change, is it? Kamio, does that mean you're breaking up with me? That isn't a very nice thing to do, trying to break up with me behind my back, who knows what you two would have been doing if I hadn't caught you just now. That's pretty low, if you really wanted to break up with me you should have at least told me to my face..."

Kamio's voice reached a terribly high pitch of desperation and he leapt up from the couch. "I'm not breaking up with you!"

"That's right, I'm breaking up with you first," Shinji continued. "I'm going to give back that horrible ugly gift you gave me for our anniversary. I never liked it anyway but I kept it so I wouldn't hurt your feelings but we just broke up so I don't really care about your feelings right now. Bye, Kamio." He turned and left the room.

"Wait, Shinji!" The phone clattered out of Kamio's hands, violently falling to the floor with a horrific crash that screeched through the speakers. Momo winced. "What do you mean you—I thought you liked it! Shinji, you liar! Shinjiiiii!"

Scuffling noises. The phone scraped against the floor as someone else picked it up. "Momo? Kamio's going to have to call you back. This'll take a while."

He knew that voice! Momo squawked. "Tachibana-san? What are you doing there?!"

"That, too, would take a while to explain." Tachibana leaned over and picked up his glass of wine from the coffee table. "Suffice to say Kamio and I were having an excellent conversation that Shinji walked in on a little too early. Did you need something?"

Momo spluttered, unable to envision exactly what Tachibana and Kamio could possibly have been talking about. Clearly calling Kamio had been a bad idea. "Ah—that is—y'know what, nevermind, nevermind! I'll—g'night."

Momo hung up. It was easier for everybody that way.

Scrolling down the list furiously, Momo scanned the names of all his contacts. Was it sad that nearly everybody in here was a friend from junior high? Probably.

He didn't much care, so long as one of them could give him a place to stay for the night, and maybe something to eat. Being homeless kind of sucked.

His finger paused on Sengoku's number.

Sengoku picked up on the first ring. "Hello~! Lucky Sengoku here!"

Peppy as always. Momo couldn't help but smile. "Sengoku! It's Momo!"

"Hmm? Omoshiro-kun!" He sounded suddenly interested. "I remember you! What're you up to? How've you been?"

The conversation turned easy and light, and Momo found himself relaxing. For a while he could forget he was homeless, and tired, and dirty, and hungry. It was like he had a friend in the world—somebody who cared about him, who talked to him, and who might be willing to give him a room for the night. Should he ask?

Sengoku asked for him. "Why don't you come over, Omoshiro-kun? I live alone, anyway. Hey! Maybe you could stay the night!"

"Well," Momo said, a wide grin spreading across his face, "Actually—"

And that was how Momo came to be sitting at Sengoku's table, being served a veritable feast of food. There was, to put it lightly, a lot of it, and Momo could barely talk for stuffing his mouth. The other odd thing was, the lights were really low. It was kind of hard to see what he was eating, but Momo supposed Sengoku was just trying to save on his electricity bill, and left it at that. Food was food, anyway. His bag was by the door, and there wasn't enough money in it to pay for even a salad at a restaurant. The only things he had were his spare clothes. Mooching off Sengoku was much better.

"Do you like it?" Sengoku came in, bearing—even more food! Momo nodded.

"Very good," he managed, after swallowing. Sengoku laughed.

"Good! I'm glad Omoshiro-kun is... enjoying himself."

Sengoku sat down across the table from him. Momo didn't think anything of it until something touched his foot.

He paused.

"Sengoku-san, I didn't know you had any pets."

"I don't."

...then what was rubbing against his—his leg—? Aaaahh—! Momo stood up so fast he blushed, although maybe the blush was for an entirely different reason.

"Omoshiro-kun?" Sengoku was smiling but Momo couldn't meet his eyes. Gaaaaah.

"Uh, I'm, uh—I'm full, Sengoku-san. Can I...er...help you with the dishes? Or something?"

"No," Sengoku shook his head, standing up as well and beginning to clear the table. "I can get them. Why don't you go pick out a movie, and I'll come join you in a bit? We can have some good ol'-fashioned male-bonding, so pick something good!"

Movie watching sounded harmless enough, and definitely relaxing. Momo hadn't watched TV in days, so he nodded, eagerly. "Sure, Sengoku-san. That sounds good."

He found one that looked harmless and plopped it into the DVD player. The summary looked to be about explosions, some love story thing, and a puppy. Puppies were good. Kaidou liked puppies. Momo settled back onto the couch to watch.

It wasn't long before Sengoku and a big bowl of popcorn joined them. Momo gave him a little smile as he sat down next to him, and then turned his attention back towards the TV screen. If this was the only TV he was going to get for who-knew-how-long, he wanted to absorb every second of it.

Sengoku sat at a comfortable distance next to him on the couch, and Momo was absently aware of his presence as the movie began. It wasn't until the puppy (whose name was Spot-o) had escaped from the first Explosion of Doom that Momo noticed the distance between him and Sengoku had narrowed ever-so-slightly.

Actually, more than slightly. Sengoku was now a lot closer to him than he'd been at the movie's beginning. Momo was absolutely sure of it.

...maybe he was cold. That's right. Think nothing of it, Momo. Just watch the movie.

He had just managed to forget about it when he felt something creeping ominously over his shoulders. Momo froze and lost all his hard-earned concentration. What...was...that?

He looked to his right, out of the corner of his eyes, where Sengoku was sitting. Sengoku didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, as his eyes were glued to the TV screen. Momo looked left, and saw the hand, attached to the arm, slung casually about his shoulders.

"Something wrong, Omoshiro-kun?"

"Uh," Momo started, eyes flicking nervously back and forth, "Your hand...arm, it's—"

Sengoku shrugged and grinned. "It's comfortable. You don't mind, do you, Omoshiro-kun?"

Maybe it was just a friendly thing. Maybe. Yes. "Um, sure."

Momo sought for something to distract himself from the arm across his shoulders. His eyes darted nervously about the room, from the TV to the knickknacks on the wall...to the popcorn bowl! Yes! Popcorn solved everything!

The only problem was that the popcorn was next to Sengoku.

Not Momo.

Which meant that Momo would have to reach over Sengoku's lap to get any popcorn at all.

Errr.

This was awkward.

Momo was caught in debate (popcorn... no popcorn. Reach over Sengoku... don't reach over Sengoku) when he felt the arm across his shoulders shift, and realized that instead of simply sitting next to him, Sengoku was now leaning, the same smile on his face as he'd been smiling all evening.

Momo was just slightly weirded out, and very, very uncomfortable. "S-Sengoku-san?"

"Hmm?" Sengoku turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "Oh, you don't mind, do you, Omoshiro-kun?"

The eyebrow was making him nervous. Momo blanched. "Uh—no, no, Sengoku-san! Of course not."

Sengoku smiled widely and turned back to the movie, his hand reaching into the popcorn bowl.

Try as he might to pay attention to the movie, Momo couldn't help but listen to him crunch popcorn oh-too-casually between his teeth. It reminded him that he, being Momo, really, really wanted popcorn right now. Even though the popcorn was on Sengoku's other side.

Oh, suck it up, Momo! Momo thought, It's not as if he did that on purpose. Of course not.

Just reach across... eeeeeeasy does it...

Ha! Success! Momo retreated with his handful of popcorn and munched on it happily. That hadn't been too bad.

All too soon, his prized, precious popcorn was gone. Spurred on by his success, Momo reached over for another handful. As he did, his fingers met something that was not light, soft, and buttery. In fact, it almost seemed like somebody else's hand.

Before he really registered it, the fingers in the bowl had tangled with his, and Sengoku was smiling at him again in a way that no longer seemed innocent and happy. "Oh, Omoshiro-kun. If you wanted to hold hands with me, you only had to ask."

"Uh," said Momo, his face suddenly a brilliant shade of beet red.

Sengoku's eyebrows wiggled, and he laughed. Momo wasn't exactly sure they were talking about hand-holding anymore. "So shy, Omoshiro-kun! So shy."

Momo wasn't sure, but if Sengoku was making fun of him, that wasn't nice. That wasn't nice at all! So of course, as a living breathing epitome of masculinity, what was Momo to do but prove the insulter wrong?! Of course he would hold Sengoku's hand, and hold it firmly!

...even if it meant no more popcorn. Sacrifices had to be made! Hang in there, Momo! It's only until the movie ends!

Then Sengoku's fingers began tapping a slow, meaningfulrhythm on Momo's shoulder.

Ahhh! Momo squawked and leapt up from the couch to the door, slipping on his shoes and bolting out into the cold. He heard Sengoku's voice wailing plaintively after him, but nothing was going to stop Momo! Nothing at all!

Except running into something. Momo 'oof'ed and fell back on his butt, wincing.

At first he thought it was just a tree, or a telephone pole, but as he looked up to see what it was—he looked up—and up—and gasped.

"Usu?"

Momo shrieked like a girl and ran for his life, leaving Kabaji blinking confusedly after him.

Kabaji shrugged and continued on his way.

When Momo woke up the next morning on a park bench in the middle of the park, it was raining. More accurately, it was pouring, and Momo didn't have an umbrella. He was already soaked, so it must have been raining for a while. How could he not have noticed?

He sat up, yawning loudly, and looked around him. The park was empty at this hour, save for another person snoozing on a similar park bench across from him. Momo thought he looked familiar, and wondered how anybody could sleep through this weather. Should Momo wake him up? But then what would he do? It wasn't as if he had somewhere to take the sleeping man so they could both get dry, because Momo was homeless.

Alas, poor Momo.

It was during this moment of angsty self-reflection that Momo's cell phone rang. Normally, he was the one calling everybody else, so to have somebody calling him was quite a surprise. Who could it be?

He fished it out of his pocket and answered without looking at the number. "Hello?"

"Hello, Momo."

Momo panicked and flipped the phone shut. What could Fuji-senpai want with him? Why was he calling?!

The phone rang again. The ringtone was ominously cheerful.

Why had he ever let Echizen pick his ringtone? Wary, Momo checked the caller ID. "I'm not going to fall for that again, Fuji-senpai!" he announced to the cell phone, "Not going to!" He slipped the phone, still ringing, back into his pocket.

...but wait. What if it really was important? What if Fuji was calling to say he had tickets to a game or something, or there was a Seigaku reunion going on, or he had a spare bed, or something had happened to Kaidou?! Momo hurriedly pulled his phone out and answered on the last ring. "H-hello?"

"That wasn't very nice, Momo." He could hear the smile in Fuji's voice.

Momo began to sweat. Fuji-senpai was scary, even just on the phone. "Sorry, senpai, so sorry! My hand slipped."

"Of course," Fuji said. "Saa, Momo, I hear you're looking for a place to stay."

Momo laughed nervously. "As expected of Fuji-senpai. How'd you know?" I bet Taka-san told him. Taka-san was so mean, to end Momo's life early like this.

"I have my ways."

Yup, Taka-san told him. Momo wanted to hang up on Fuji-senpai right then and there, but he knew that Fuji would call right back or else make his life a living hell. Fuji-senpai is scary... "A-ah, well, maybe. Is Taka-san there?"

"What makes you think Taka-san would be here?" Fuji asked sweetly, but continued before Momo could reply. "More importantly, I'm sure you're looking for someplace to sleep for the night, and I have the perfect suggestion."

Uh oh. "You do?" Crap, that made him sound eager. Heel, Momo! Slow down!

"Yes. A kind, caring soul, who would be more than happy to host you for as long as you need."

...This sounded fishy. "R-really?" What kind of kind, caring souls could Fuji-senpai possibly know?

Besides Taka-san. And Oishi-senpai. And... alright, fine.

"Yes, really. Would I lie to you?"

Momo kept his mouth shut.

Fuji told him the address in a pleased sort of voice, and then added, "but if you have any questions, feel free to call him."

"Why can't I just ask you?" Momo blurted, growing increasingly uneasy. Was he really going to do this? What if it was some creep or something?! "Like, who he is or what their number is or something?"

"Does it really matter who it is?" Fuji asked, almost philosophically. "You can't afford to be picky, Momo. You slept on a park bench last night."

Momo's jaw dropped. "How did you know that?!"

"Anyway," Fuji said, changing the subject, "if you really need to, you'll be able to reach him at 666-6662."

The number alone should have tipped him off, but Fuji was right. Momo had slept on a park bench, he was hungry, he was wet, and he had exhausted his list of friends. So he found himself at the given address, soaking wet from the rain, staring at the door and wondering if he really did want to ring the lavender-colored doorbell.

Who would answer?

The pale purple door was suddenly flung open, and who should happen to emerge but someone who Momo had very much hoped he would never see again.

"Momoshiro-kun!" Mizuki exclaimed, draping himself extravagantly over Momo's shoulder and pulling him inside. "What a pleasant surprise!"

Momo was so busy gaping like an idiot that it didn't really sink in whosehouse he'd knocked at until he was fully inside, shoes off, and watching Mizuki go through his closet for something that complimented his "simply gorgeous eyes" or his "absolutely delightful manly figure". Now, it was nice for Mizuki to let him in andoffer him clothes, but every single article of clothing Momo could see was either a color that was not manly at all, or embroidered with flowers and hearts and kittens. Or all three. And while Momo might like kittens (especially Kaidou's little kitty), he definitely did not like wearing them. "Um, Mizuki-san, those aren't going to fit me." Maybe, if he was really quiet, he could make a run for it while Mizuki's back was turned. Momo started edging towards the door.

"I've found just the thing!" Mizuki cried triumphantly, straightening up and twirling around. Momo froze and smiled awkwardly, pretending that he hadn't moved at all. Mizuki didn't seem to notice, instead coming just a bittoo close for comfort and holding a hideous woolly purple garment up to his chest, humming in admiration.

I am not wearing that.

Desperate, Momo stuttered out the first thing that came to mind. "P-purple's not my color, Mizuki-san, not my color at all!"

"Of course it is, it looks lovely on you," Mizuki said, moving somehow even closer and running his fingers down Momo's arm in an uncomfortably intimate manner. "It even matches your eyes, Takeshi-kun. You don't mind if I call you Takeshi-kun, do you? Of course you don't. Nfu."

Momo jerked away, wanting to say that yes, he did mind, but Mizuki talked right over him, depositing the... purple thing... in Momo's arms with a pair of magenta-embroidered cream slacks and disappearing out of the room. For the briefest of moments, Momo considered making a run for it out the window. His grand plan was only foiled by the fact that save for the skylight, there was no window. Alas, poor Momo.

"Feel free to come out here when you're done changing, Takeshi-kun," Mizuki called seductively from the other room. "However much I like knowing that you're in my bedroom, I'm sure you'd find my couch much more cozy. We can watch soap operas together."

Momo looked down at the purple and cream things he held in his hands and threw them as far away as he could. Granted, that was only into the corner, but still. At least he wasn't touching them anymore. His stomach growled loudly, and Momo opened the door deciding that the sooner he faced the music the sooner he'd get out of this place. How could Fuji-senpai do this to him? "Actually, Mizuki-san, I'm kind of hungry..."

"Oh? Well that works too, I suppose. Sit down in the kitchen and I'll prepare my famous ginger and pine nut salad for you."

Ginger and pine nut? What the hell?! That sounded worse than wasabi sushi! No wonder he and Fuji got along so well! "Uh—uh—that's okay, Mizuki-san, actually, I think I'll just be going! I think so!"

"Nonsense, Takeshi-kun!" Mizuki giggled. "The door has a two-way lock. You can't get outside. I've been taking special precautions, ever since..." His voice dropped to a mutter.

Two-way lock?! This was not happening. This was not happening. Momo couldn't help it; he whimpered. "You mean I'm stuck here?"

"That's exactly what I mean, Takeshi-kun! Nfufufu! Now come to the kitchen and we can eat. I have dinner all ready for us. Nfu."

Momo could have cried.

Sometime later found them halfway through the ginger and pine nut salad, sitting at opposite ends of the kitchen table, the candlelight casting shadows on their plates and the walls. Momo actually liked it. It meant he couldn't see Mizuki's face.

His thoughts were racing. What do I do—what do I do? I can't stay here, I can't. Even if it's raining out there! I can go back to the park bench or something, anything would be better than this and this salad. Who eats salad, anyway?!

He wanted a juicy, fat, greasy burger. When was the last time he'd had one? Maybe if he asked nicely again, Mamushi would buy him one. ...that's right! He could go back to Mamushi! It'd been a few days. Mamushi wouldn't mind.

The only problem was escaping this house.

Alive.

Momo swallowed.

Mizuki had just delicately finished the last of his salad and leaned forward into the light of the lavender-scented candles. He was twirling a lock of hair around his finger and smiling eerily. "So, Takeshi-kun. Have you ever been on a date with another man before?"

Momo dropped his fork. "W-w-what?!" Another good thing about candlelight: Mizuki would not see him blushing.

Mizuki leaned forward even farther, smiling in a distinctly creepy way, as if he had caught the scent of his prey. "I asked—"

The phone rang.

Saved by the phone, thought Momo, Phew.

Mizuki frowned, disgruntled at the interruption, but pushed his chair back to stand up and stalk into the living room.

Momo wasted no time. He bolted out of his chair and ran over to the screen door. How the hell did this thing open?!

In the other room, Mizuki snatched up the receiver and snapped, "Why are you calling me? Isn't Kaneda good enough for you?"

On the other end of the phone line, Akazawa laughed. "Nice way to answer the phone, Mizuki. Hello to you, too."

"Don't you 'hello' me," Mizuki sniffed, twirling the phone cord furiously. "Have you heard from Yuuta? I haven't seen him since he ran out on me last week."

"Yuuta ran away again?" Akazawa shifted the phone to his other ear, pulling open a drawer to rummage about inside.

"Yes," Mizuki said with distaste, leaning back against the wall. "Has he contacted you? What about Fuji Syusuke? I think this is another one of his plots."

"'This' being Yuuta?"

"A handsome young man showed up on my doorstep," Mizuki informed him loftily. "I plan on taking full advantage of him, but his presence at this particular time is too much to be mere coincidence. It must be Fuji Syusuke's doing." He frowned and twirled the cord faster.

Akazawa pulled out a piece of paper from the drawer, making another mark on his list of times Yuuta had run away from Mizuki. "Huh."

"Who are you calling?" Kaneda called, from the other room.

"Mizuki," Akazawa called back to him. "Yuuta ran away again."

"Again?" Kaneda entered the room, shaking his head. "Why am I not surprised..."

"He did not run away," Mizuki corrected, displeased. "He is merely absent. Temporarily."

Akazawa shrugged. "Of course he is. So who're you having dinner with?"

"Momoshiro Takeshi. You remember him, he was the one who smashed Yanagisawa in the—" Mizuki paused abruptly, listening. There was a noise coming from the kitchen. "Hold on, Akazawa, I think I hear that stupid cat scratching at my screen door again."

Having just slid back into his seat, Momo pretended to pick at his salad as Mizuki re-entered the room. Yet another good thing about candlelight: Mizuki would not be able to see the beads of perspiration on Momo's forehead. He really needed a shower.

Mizuki paid no mind to Momo and made his way to the screen door. He unlocked it deftly, throwing the three bolts at top, middle, and bottom, and finally with the key underneath the flowerpot on the nearby countertop. The door slid open easily, (so that was how it was done!) and Mizuki took his time in looking every which way before closing the door and redoing each of the four locks, as well as replacing the key, before fluttering back into the living room to resume his juicy gossip session.

Heart pounding loudly, Momo abandoned his salad to head for the door. Okay...bolt one...bolt two...

"Did you find the cat?" Akazawa asked, as Mizuki picked the phone back up.

"No, it got away," Mizuki grumbled. "I'll get it if it comes back, though. Now, where was I? Oh yes, Yuuta. He vanished while I was out shopping last week. It was horrible. I could hardly bear eating, knowing that Yuuta was out on the streets somewhere, possibly kidnapped, hungry, cold..." He sighed with renewed despair, hand twisting the phone cord madly.

Rolling his eyes, Akazawa debated putting Mizuki on speakerphone, so Kaneda could hear this too. He decided against it. "I'm sure he's fine, Mizuki. You're overreacting again."

Mizuki sniffed. "Don't you tell me I'm overreacting! I spent three years making sure this house was Yuuta-proof, there is no way he could have escaped on his own. Only a genius like myself could operate all the security mechanisms. Or Fuji Syusuke, of course. Hmm. Perhaps I should confront him. Akazawa, do you think—"

Mizuki stopped again, absolutely positive that he heard something. "Hold on, Akazawa, I hear it again. I'll get it this time." He put the phone down without waiting for acknowledgement and peered into the dining room.

It was suspiciously empty. There was a half-eaten-barely-touched salad on the table, the wind blowing through an open window, and all the locks on the screen door were unlocked and the door itself carefully slid shut. Other than that, there was no sign of anything amiss. No kitty. No Momo. Intent on finding and getting rid of the bothersome cat, Mizuki grabbed the broom from the corner for precautionary reasons, and poked his head outside again.

A bush rustled.

"Aha!" Mizuki cried triumphantly. "Is this is where you've been hiding, my feline friend? Well, not anymore!" He brought the broom over his head and proceeded to smack the bush to death. There would be no more scratching at his screen door for this persistent kitty! Nfufufu.

Eventually satisfied, Mizuki made his way back inside, to his telephone. "Success at last, Akazawa," he said, pleased, as he picked the phone up. "The cat will not be bothering me anymore."

Then he blinked. The dial tone on the phone sounded very much not like his old captain. "Akazawa? AKAZAWA, DID YOU HANG UP ON ME?!"

There was, of course, no response.

Well, maybe Mizuki hadn't wanted to talk to him anyway! He slammed the phone back in its cradle, taking a certain pleasure in releasing his righteous anger on an inanimate object.

That dealt with, he hurried quickly back to the dining room, calling loudly as he did so, "Ah, Takeshi-kun, you really should have informed me if you've finished your supper, I have the second course prepared—"

He stopped short.

The wind blew his fluorescent purple curtains peacefully about his closed screen door, and Mizuki could not help but think of Yuuta. The same horrendous feeling churned in his stomach, and it was with a terrible realization (not panic—Mizuki did not panic) that he rushed to the window, threw it open, and through the mouthful of lilac curtain the wind blew in his face, saw him.

Momo, running down the street as fast as his legs could carry him, completely barefoot, screaming bloody murder or something similar. Mizuki couldn't hear him over his own shriek of betrayal.

"No! Takeshi-kun! Come back!," he cried, flinging himself halfway through the window. He couldn't quite squish all the way through, and it was as if all the world were conspiring against him. "I made my special eggplant quiche just for you!"

Momo's screaming kicked up about half an octave, and if it was at all possible for him to disappear into the gathering grey storm clouds on the horizon any faster, he did (Mizuki didn't know. Mizuki only saw a sunset). He tried to push himself through the window—but if he went any further, he'd ruin his good mauve sweater!

Ego beaten down and trodden upon, Mizuki gracelessly squished backwards at a pace as miserable as that of a turtle flipped upside-down. It seemed to take forever before he was free of the window-shaped-trap and could run to the front door, undoing its three locks and flinging it open, bursting outside just as the heavens burst open and began to weep upon him. "Takeshi-kun, come back! Takeshi-kun—TAKESHI-KUUUUN!"

He dropped to his knees in despair—drenched, defeated, and downtrodden. As if echoing his sorrowful sentiment, the front door clicked sadly shut behind him.

Mizuki looked back in horror at the sound. Could it be—? No—it wasn't possible—but it was. Stepping back up to the door, lovingly painted his favorite shade of heliotrope, Mizuki realized that he couldn't get back inside. Pulling, pushing, even ringing the bell—nothing worked.

He was stranded.

Stranded outside his own home.

He sat down, dejected, on the step. All the effort to keep Yuuta-kun in...had only resulted in locking Mizuki out. He sniffled. Elegantly, of course.

Now what was he to do?

Momo was now homeless, tired, still hungry, thirsty, dirty, wet, unwashed, unshaven, unbathed, shoeless, and to top it all off, lost.

He had managed to make his way all the way back to the shopping district, which was good when it came to escape but bad when it came to finding a place to stay. Or finding out where he was, exactly. Because he realized, looking around, that he didn't know any of these shops, or any of these people. He didn't even know how he'd gotten there.

Morosely, he wandered the streets. His hair was dripping into his face, so he couldn't quite see where he was going—so really, he shouldn't have been surprised when he bumped into somebody, sending them both to the cold, wet ground.

"Hey, watch it," the other snapped, shoving Momo off. Momo blinked out from under his hair, about to utter an apology, but recognized the haircut of the person he'd bumped into. Reddish-pink, long, dripping into his face even more than Momo's was, cut into a weird bob—Momo would recognize that style anywhere!

"Gakuto—Hyoutei's Gakuto?"

Gakuto stared at him like he had two heads. "...yes...?"

Momo latched onto his arm, eyes wild, hair drooping, looking insane and feeling quite relieved. Here was the answer to all his problems! "Can I come home with you?!"

Gakuto gaped at him for just a moment longer, letting Momo's anticipation grow, and then—

—shrieked like a banshee, pulling a purse out of nowhere and waving it in panic. It collided with Momo's head once, and that was enough to knock him back several yards. It felt like there were a hundred bricks inside. "YUUSHI! YUUSHI, IT'S ANOTHER ONE! YUUUUUSHIIIII!"

"Hey! Ow!"

Of all the reactions, Momo hadn't expected this! He flailed, trying to get out of the way of the purse-of-a-thousand-bricks. "Gakuto-san, no! Hey! I didn't mean it that way, I just wanted—"

"Gakuto, what are you doing?"

"Yuushi!" Gakuto hiccupped in terror, still swinging the purse madly to fend Momo off. "This crazy man bumped into me and tried to pick me up, and Yuushi he knows my first name and the school I went to and everything!"

Yuushi? Momo remembered a Yuushi...

...and there he was, still taller than Gakuto, still wearing glasses (although they had slimmed down with age), still with blue hair that wasn't at all touched by the rain because the stupid tensai had an umbrella (stupid tensais! It was like they planned ahead or something!)—what, did all doubles pairs stick together when they got old?!

"Calm down, Gakuto," Yuushi was saying, laying a hand on his shorter friend's shoulder and peering at Momo. He squinted. "...hmmm. He does look familiar."

"Of course I do!" Momo said frantically, hands up to defend himself from another hit from the purse of doom. "It's Momoshiro, from Seigaku? You know who I am!"

Gakuto frowned suspiciously, but lowered his purse. He carried it like it weighed nothing. What was in there?

Yuushi—Oshitari, that was it!—stared at him for a moment longer before nodding and straightening up. "Yup. Seigaku. You have nothing to fear from Seigaku, Gakuto."

"Seigaku, huh?" Gakuto said, snorting and putting his purse away somewhere that Momo couldn't see. "They're just a bunch of losers. So, if you weren't trying to pick me up—which I doubt," he added, eyeing Momo mistrustfully, "what do you want?"

Momo tried his best to look like a kicked puppy. It usually worked on Kaidou. "To go home with you?"

Gakuto blinked, and paused.

"I TOLD YOU, YUUSHI!" he shrieked, the purse reappearing out of nowhere. "THE ONES WHO COME BACK ARE ALWAYS PERVERTS!"

"I'M NOT A PERVERT!" Momo shouted, automatically covering his head with his arms to prevent further abuse.

"Okay, Gakuto," Oshitari said, catching Gakuto's wrist before he could swing the loaded purse. "It's not nice to beat up the homeless."

Gakuto's look of horror almost matched Momo's expression of shock. "He's what? EEEEW! That's almost worse than a pervert!"

"It's not my fault!" Momo replied, instinctively, "But how did you know I was homeless?"

"I'm a tensai," Oshitari explained, and even though there was no sun his glasses glinted, covering his eyes. Momo was reminded eerily of Inui-senpai. "I know everything."

"Liar." Gakuto sniffed. "You probably saw it on the news or something."

Oshitari laughed. "There's always that."

Momo was hesitant to interrupt, but it was raining, and he was still homeless, tired, hungry, thirsty, dirty, wet, unwashed, unshaven, unbathed, shoeless, lost, and now confused. If these Hyoutei people weren't going to help him, he was going to go find somewhere else! Like a cardboard box, for example. Yeah. That would be...great!

Er...not.

"Um," he started.

"It's okay, Momoshiro," Oshitari practically purred. "You can stay the night with us."

"What?!" Gakuto squawked, "Yuushi! No!"

"If Atobe's bringing Tezuka we can certainly bring a friend of our own," Oshitari pointed out. "And since Atobe will bring Tezuka, we will bring Momoshiro."

Gakuto snorted. "Atobe's just mad because Jirou still sleeps on him but not with him. Besides, he isn't our friend!" He was pointing at Momo as he said it.

Momo would have been insulted had this sudden opportunity not been sounding stranger and stranger by the second. "What does buchou have to do with anything?" Was he homeless too?

"We'll take him," Oshitari decided, talking right over him, "Don't look so down, Gakuto. We can always foster him off onto Ohtori once Shishido gets drunk enough to agree. Plus, he can do our shopping."

Gakuto brightened up and agreed. Momo blinked. "Shopping?"

"Groceries," Oshitari explained, pulling out his wallet. "You can earn your keep or you can go home."

Since Momo still didn't have a home, this presented a dilemma.

He nodded numbly. Oshitari handed him a list and a credit card. "There. Our address is on the back. We'll see you in two hours."

"You're so prepared, Yuushi," Gakuto snickered, "Just like a Boy Scout."

Momo had always wanted to be a Boy Scout, so he tucked the list and credit card firmly into his ragged pockets, a symbol of his poverty. "Two hours. Got it."

I'm not getting kicked out of another home, he vowed, as they parted ways. This one'll be the last for sure!

Even if it wasn't so much a home as it was a party, Momo had been sure that there was going to be at least some awkwardness at being completely surrounded by Hyoutei members for who-knew-how-long, doing who-knew-what. But a good hour in found him sitting on the couch, drink in hand, bawling his eyes out while Ohtori listened empathetically, nodding reassuringly and looking like he wanted nothing more than to fold Momo into his arms and give him a big hug. Momo wished he would. He wanted a hug.

"And I was trying to be polite but he kicked me out anyway and none of my senpai would take me in, I tried to go to Oishi-senpai's house but he didn't want me there either, and Fuji-senpai set me up with a creep who tried to kidnap me and it was terrible, just terrible, and then on top of being wet I had no shoes and was all alone and unloved and got beaten up by Gakuto-san and nobody loves me—"

Tears were shining in Ohtori's eyes as he passed the tissue box to Momo, patting him comfortingly on the back. "That's awful, Momoshiro-san! You poor thing!"

"I know!" Momo sobbed, too distraught to even blow his nose. Poor Momo.

Shishido was standing behind the couch, arms crossed, glaring at Momo who was taking up too much of Choutarou's time. Ohtori turned to him, his large brown eyes almost dripping with empathy and sorrow, and Shishido felt the glare melt right off his face. "Shishido-san, can we take him home with us? Please?"

The glare came right back. Shishido scowled. "No. He's drunk."

"But Shishido-san, he's so sad!"

It was true. Momo had abandoned his empty glass in favor of the tissue box, holding it close as tears poured from his eyes in extreme sadness.

"He's drunk," Shishido repeated. He had to be stern. Stern! Ohtori was not bringing home any more strays! "He'll be fine in the morning."

"But he's lonely now, Shishido-san!"

"He can suck it up," Shishido snapped. "I said no and no means no!"

Ohtori Looked at him. Shishido could feel his will crumbling. He stood fast. No! He had to be strong! No meant no and that was that!

Sadly, his will was not meant to last.

"If we don't take him home, Shishido-san, I'm not going either," Ohtori declared, setting his chin firmly in the way that meant "no means yes because I said so and you know it, so don't you dare argue with me, Shishido-san because I will fight you!".

Shishido broke. "Fine. But he's sleeping in the guest room." On the guest futon on the floor if Shishido had anything to say about it.

Ohtori beamed at him, and Shishido's thoughts went completely out the window. "Thank you, Shishido-san! I promise you won't regret it!"

Yeah, sure.

"See, Gakuto?" Oshitari muttered, as the two of them passed to the kitchen to get more drinks, "I told you we could get rid of him."

"You're the best, Yuushi!"

"I know."

Oshitari's unfortunate comment prompted a new flood of tears from Momo. "I knew it! Nobody wants meee..."

"That's not true, Momoshiro-san!" Ohtori hastened to reassure him. Shishido's scowl returned full-force. "We want you!"

Shishido choked. "No we don't!"

"Shishido-san!"

"Nobody wants me—"

"I want you, Momoshiro-san!"

Shishido's face turned purple. "CHOUTAROU!"

Ohtori's passion was not enough to make Momo quit crying. "B-but Sengoku-san wanted me too and he was creepy about it—"

"Don't worry, not that way," Ohtori reassured him. Shishido sighed with relief. "But our house is yours, Momoshiro-san! You are welcome with us!"

Momo stopped crying long enough to blink. "Really?"

Ohtori nodded.

"...really?"

"Really, Momoshiro-san!"

"Do you mean it?"

"I mean it!"

Here we go again, Shishido thought.

"Oh, Ohtori-san!"

"Momoshiro-san!"

They embraced. A wave crashed on the rocks behind them, and Shishido resigned himself to a long, lonely night.

Even though Momo was sleeping on the guest room floor, he slept better than he had in nights—days—weeks—months!—well, not quite. He slept well, though. He slept good. Ohtori-san was a wonderful host and made him a midnight snack, breakfast, rubbed his back while he was throwing the breakfast up, gave him Tylenol for his hangover, and then made him lunch. Jirou slept through the whole thing. Momo didn't know what his problem was. Why didn't he have a hangover, too? He'd certainly been upset enough.

And speaking of upset...

Though he had resigned himself to Momo's presence, Shishido-san had obviously not taken as well to the houseguest as Ohtori had. Shishido had slept on the couch and apparently it had been terrible. His hair was sticking up in all angles, making him look more ferocious and violent than he actually was. (Or so Momo hoped.) Momo tried to avoid him, but it wasn't an easy task.

Shishido and his glare seemed to be everywhere Momo wanted to be, until finally his only choice was to sit quietly in the corner and wait for Ohtori to come save him from this crazy man. He usually did. Except that Ohtori had been called outside to talk with a neighbor and Shishido was advancing on Momo with an expression that told him his stay was over. Momo really hoped that it wasn't what it looked like, but Shishido's next words popped that idea like a soap bubble.

"Your stay here is over! OVER! Get out!"

And Momo found himself out on the street once more.

He waited a minute or two to see if Ohtori would return, notice his absence, and summon him back inside—

("Shishido-san, where's Momoshiro-san?" Ohtori asked, confused.

Shishido shrugged. "It was time for him to go.")

—but alas. No such luck. Momo was homeless once more.

He was also tired, hungry, thirsty, dirty, unwashed, unshaven, unbathed, shoeless, lost, confused, and hungover. Poor Momo.

It was now the ninth day that Momo had been officially homeless, and once again he was stuck looking for somewhere to live or at least spend the night. He wandered around for an hour, pavement and cement and sticks prickling his bare feet, and sneezed. Maybe he was getting sick. Wouldn't that be great. Then he'd be homeless, tired, hungry, thirsty, dirty, unwashed, unshaven, unbathed, shoeless, lost, confused, hungover, and sick. Wonderful.

He kind of hoped that he would just run into somebody who'd be willing to put him up for the night just like he had yesterday, but with the way his luck was running, Momo kind of doubted it. He doubted he'd even find someone he knew at this rate. Coincidences just didn't keep happening like that.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, you idiot!"

Or did they?

Apparently while he'd been deep in thought Momo had run into somebody, sending them both to the ground and making him even dirtier. This time Momo had to think a little to place the face with the name, but finally it came to him, and he gasped.

"Kirihara! Rikkaidai's Kirihara?!"

Kirihara regarded him suspiciously. "Who the hell are you? And how do you know my name?"

Momo wasted no time explaining. He didn't want to ruin his One Big Chance—again! He moved forward and grabbed Kirihara's hands in his.

"Hey, what the—"

"Let me come home with you!"

Kirihara paled and jerked away. "No! No way! I don't even know you!"

"That doesn't matter!" Momo insisted, moving forwards even as Kirihara moved away. "Let me sleep with you! I just need a room for the night!"

"NO!"

"Please!"

"NO FUCKING WAY! I don't even know who you are, I'm not con—con—convenient!"

"I wouldn't ask if I really didn't need this!"

"Get off on your own terms!"

"I—"

"NO!"

With that, Kirihara fled for his life down the street. Momo blinked before following, a little clumsily because he was homelesstiredhungrythirstydirtyunwashedunshaveununbathedshoelesslostconfusedhungoverpossiblysick, but following nonetheless. "Wait! Please wait!"

Breathing hard, Kirihara ducked into a convenient alley and pulled out his cell phone, pressing number 1 on the speed dial. He waited anxiously, shifting from one foot to the other, as the phone rang...and rang...and rang...

"Yukimura residence."

Kirihara wasted no time. "Buchouthere'ssomebodystalkingmeandhesaysheknowsmebutIdon'tknowhimandhe'screepingmeoutbecausehesayshewantstosleepwithmeandIdon'twanttosleepwithhimbuchouIcanhearhimcomingwhatdoIdo?!"

"Stay—get calm," Yukimura ordered, "If he asks for money, give him money. If he asks for sexual favors, run. Run home, Akaya! Your life depends on it!"

"Yes buchou! I will!"

Kirihara flipped the phone shut and ran for the hills—aka his home.

On the other end of the line, Yukimura hung up just as Sanada came up behind him. "What was that about?"

Yukimura regarded him seriously. "Akaya's being stalked by a sexual predator again."

"Again?"

"Again."

Sanada sighed.

"I'll go on ahead," Yukimura continued, suiting up, "You call the team and bring backup."

"What? Why do I always have to be backup?"

Yukimura smiled sweetly. "You weren't captain in middle school."

Sanada frowned. "I was vice-captain."

"You weren't captain in high school either."

"I was vice-captain—"

"Go get the backup, Sanada."

There was no arguing with that tone of voice. Sanada sighed and picked up the phone.

"I SAID STOP FOLLOWING ME!"

"I just need a place to stay!"

"NO! NO SEXUAL FAVORS!"

"Just for the night!"

"BUCHOU SAID NO SO NO!"

"Please!"

"NO!"

"But what if Buchou said yes?"

Kirihara stopped.

"Well he didn't, so no!"

They'd reached Kirihara's house by this point. Momo had followed him all the way home, but now he stopped to stare at the place where Kirihara lived. It was...gaudy, to say the least. Blatant. Obtrusive. Noticeable.

For lack of a better word, the entire house was painted a bright mustard yellow, with black trimming and red decals stuck in all the windows, on the mailbox, and imprinted in the bush-lined walkway. Momo gaped. Wasn't five years out of high school a little too long to still have this much school spirit?

Kirihara caught him staring and glared. "If you don't like it, go away! We'd both like that better anyway."

"No we wouldn't," Momo said automatically, and started down the bush-lined pathway towards the door.

Just when he was too far to make a sprint to the door or back towards the sidewalk, the bushes on either side of him exploded with smoke and in the midst of it seven people in uniforms that matched the house swarmed out, tackled Momo to the ground, and tied him up.

"Look at these knots! Aren't they genius?"

The neighbors closed their blinds even as poor Momo screamed for help. They were used to scenes like this.

Momo awoke what seemed like hours later, and for a terrifying moment couldn't see anything. Then his vision adjusted to the darkness, and he saw that he was in a cold, dark cellar room, tied to a rickety old folding chair. And he really was tied. For all Momo struggled, he could not break loose. Even trying to fold the folding chair in half didn't work. Momo was now homeless, tired, hungry, thirsty, dirty, unwashed, unshaven, unbathed, shoeless, lost, confused, hungover, possibly sick, and now kidnapped. Great.

This wasn't what he'd imagined when he'd thought of spending the night here. It definitely wasn't.

"Ah. So you're awake."

The voice was accompanied by a clicking noise that sounded suspiciously like buttons being pressed on a cell phone keypad. Momo looked over and sure enough, there was the blue light of a cell phone glowing in the darkness, illuminating itself, the hand that held it, and the face looking down at it. The eerie image didn't bother him so much as it should have. Something else was more pressing.

"What are you doing with my cell phone?!"

The eyes looking down at the display screen were closed. Now Momo shivered.

"Hello, Momoshiro-kun. While it was nice of you to stop by, your efforts at stalking Akaya are not appreciated. I hope you understand why we had to subdue you."

"No!" Momo snapped, rocking in his restraints, "I have no idea what you're talking about! I wasn't efforting to do anything and I wasn't stalking anybody! I wasn't!"

"Akaya says differently, and I'm apt to believe my old teammate rather than you."

Old teammate...shit. Now Momo knew he really was in trouble.

"Why do you have my cellphone?"

"I'm looking for someone who can ransom you."

Momo snorted, trying to act casual. "Well, don't call Mamushi, 'cause he's pissed at me."

"Mamushi?"

"Yeah, Kaidou."

"...Kaidou?"

Something in his kidnapper's voice made Momo look up with fear and worry. His kidnapper was still looking at the phone, but his tone...had definitely changed.

"Would this be the same Kaidou," he asked, voice tight and edged, "who stole Sadaharu from me?"

Uh oh. "You mean Inui-senpai?"

"No," the other snapped, "Sadaharu. Oh, Sadaharu..." His hand moved to clutch at his heart as if in pain. "We were meant to be together forever, but no, this—this—underclassman had to come between us in the midst of our youth! And you let him. I will never forgive you!"

"Woah, hey, calm down," Momo said in a hurry, "I didn't do anything!"

His kidnapper ignored him. "Oh, but Sadaharu—now it's my turn."

A few more clicks of the cell phone button, and Momo panicked.

"Hey what are you doing?! That's mine, get your own phone!"

"Kaidou would be 'Mamushi'," his kidnapper mused aloud. "Kaidou..."

"Don't call him!" Momo yelled, "Don't! He hates me! Don't bring him into this!"

"Kaidou...Kaoru..."

Just as he was about to press the green button, the cell phone rang.

Both of them jumped.

"I should pick that up," Momo said, seizing the opportunity, "It might be important. Um...who is it?"

"Kaidou..."

"WHAT?!"

His kidnapper raised the phone to his ear. He pushed the green button.

"NOOOOO!"

Yanagi Renji's eyes opened fully for the first time in years.

"Hello, Kaidou."

"Hello, Kaidou."

Kaidou blinked and let out a quiet hiss. That definitely wasn't Momoshiro's voice. Had he dialed the wrong number? But no—he'd hit the zero on his speed dial, and that was definitely the loser's number. What was going on? "...Momoshiro?"

"I am afraid you are quite mistaken, Kaidou-kun."

This was weird. Kaidou hissed again. "Who are you? Why are you on Momoshiro's cell phone?" Where is that idiot?

"He's a bit...tied up at the minute." The voice chuckled.

Kaidou didn't like the sound of that, either. "Is—" he started, then stopped. He thought he could hear something in the background. A tinny voice, as if shouting over a great distance.

...or in the same room as the cell phone.

"MAMUSHI DON'T LISTEN TO HIM! HE'S A CREEP! HE'S GOING TO USE YOU TO GET TO INUI-SENPAI!"

Eh? "Momoshiro?"

"Be quiet," the other voice snapped, and the volume changed as he spoke directly into the cell phone once more. "No, Kaidou-kun, it is I. Sadaharu's old...friend."

Kaidou didn't like where this was going. "Inui-senpai? What does Inui-senpai have to do with this?"

"Everything."

Kaidou hissed in confusion.

"Our terms are thus," Inui-senpai's friend continued, "Deliver Sadaharu to me within two hours or your friend Momoshiro's life will be forfeit."

"WHAT?!"

"What?!"

"NO! I DON'T WANNA DIE! MAMUSHI—"

Momoshiro's voice cut off abruptly with a loud clatter.

"I said be quiet," Kaidou heard Inui-senpai's friend say. There was a silence. "...can you hear me?" Another silence. "Ah. I think you hit him too hard, Niou." There was a muffled reply.

Hit him? Kaidou's heart leaped up into his throat, and he had trouble swallowing enough to speak. "Momoshiro—Momoshiro! What did you do to him?!"

"Just gave him a taste of the pain that I have felt," Inui-senpai's friend said coldly. "OH, the pain—you could not imagine such pain! Such pain is beyond the limits of your pitiful imagination. It burns, ripping you into shreds until you can't stand it anymore—you try to end it but you fail, falling deeper into the pit of unloved despair and darkness, the darkness within your soul consumes you—"

There was a muffled whine. Kaidou had to strain to hear it. "Yanagi-senpai's getting carried away again..."

"Quiet, Akaya, I'm on the phone!"

"You're always on the phone... I'm telling Buchou!"

"What? No! Akaya, no! Wait!"

"Buchoooooooooooooooooou, Yanagi-senpai is—"

"Anyway," Yanagi snapped into the phone, "Two hours. At this address. Send Sadaharu here or Momoshiro dies."

"Wait," Kaidou started, panicking, "I don't—"

"BUCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!"

"AKAYA STOP IT! Two hours, Kaidou-kun, and that's it! AKAYA! NO!"

The line went dead.

Kaidou took the phone from his ear and stared at it in shock. That...hadn't just happened...had it? Momoshiro...Inui-senpai...

His fingers moved over the keys on his phone automatically. Zero was the idiot...one was his mother...his thumb hovered over two.

Two. For doubles.

He'd never thought to use this dial again.

I don't have a choice.

Hissing, Kaidou braced himself, hit two, and waited.

Inui was sitting at his desk the same way he had been for days—weeks—months—years on end, lamenting the loss of the one and only purpose to his life. No, it was not his data collecting, although that too had fallen into disuse.

Numbers and figures didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. Not since...not after...

Kaidou...

His one and only, the reason he only ever played doubles or possibly even tennis in the first place. The reason he continued on in high school, collecting numbers and figures and making charts and training menus all for Kaidou, Kaidou!

Oh, what was Inui supposed to do without him? The sun had gone out of his life. The life had gone out of his life. His thoughts were wild, crazy, unorganized, going in circles and focusing around one name—

Kaidou.

Kaidou.

Kaidou.

Kaidou.

Kaidou...

Kaidou!

KAIDOU.

KAIDOU!

KAIDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU...

Kaidou.

Life is meaningless without you. How I wish I could only talk to you...just once more...

The phone rang.

And not just any phone, but his cell phone. Inui would have ignored it like he ignored every other phone call that was ever called to his phone ever, except...this one.

This call...was ringing with a particular peppiness that Inui particularly remembered picking out for his perfect, prodigal Kaidou. This tone...those hideously computerized notes...bespoke Kaidou. It could only be him.

Inui hesitated.

He rose from his place at his deskside vigil with the stiffness of an insomniac, legs creaking from disuse. He crossed to the phone...he hesitated...he touched it.

It rang louder.

He pulled away!

To him it rang louder still. More insistent. Slowly, he touched it again. He picked it up with his hand. Fingers twitching, shaking, sweat pouring down his face, his back, his hand, Inui steadied himself, braced himself firmly hold on Inui, this is it, and readied himself to flip it open and accept the call—

—the phone stopped ringing in his hand.

I'm... too late.

Inui fell to his knees. The phone clattered out of his hand and skittered under his bed. He didn't notice. All his despair and woe had returned full-force. He was bent under its weight, mourning the loss, feeling each stab of pain as if it were new, fresh, painful.

So distraught was he that it took a moment before the music reached his ears once more.

Inui looked up.

The noise—those hideously computerized notes—were coming from beneath his bed. Inui suddenly realized that this—this could be—this was his last chance. He scrambled madly on all fours, flinging himself under his bed among the dust bunnies and cobwebs, searching wildly for the blue light that was emitting itself from the vibrating, whirring cell phone.

There was no time to waste. Inui reached for it, grabbed it, and with hands that shook from adrenaline and something else, flipped it open and pressed it to his ear, opening his mouth to speak.

There was an anticlimatic silence. Inui realized with horror that his vocal cords had stiffened with disuse. He tried to clear his throat, swallowing, gathering the courage to speak and answer the damn phone already.

"K-Kaidou," he rasped. Whispered.

He could sense Kaidou's confusion over the phone. Was that what he was? Confused? Was he upset, excited, depressed—was he in terrible danger? Was that why he had called? Had he finally gotten himself into some trouble that only his loving senpai could get him out of?!

"Fsssssssssh."

Inui's breath caught in his throat.

"Inui-senpai?"

He said my name.

Inui's heart stopped beating.

The phone dropped from his frozen hand. It hit the dust-covered floor and hung itself up.

"NO!" Inui squawked, and dove for it. He cradled it carefully in both hands. Thankfully it wasn't broken. But what now? Should he call Kaidou back? But that would be too forward. Kaidou'd said he didn't like it when Inui-senpai was so forward. Granted he'd said that in the middle of their break-up argument, but still.

I hung up on him...that's rude. Kaidou hates rudeness more than anything.

The phone in his hands rang again. Inui didn't let himself think before he picked up.

"Kaidou!"

With every syllable his voice was coming back. That sounded the most like him that he'd sounded in years.

"Inui-senpai," Kaidou said, and though the sound was distorted a bit by the frequencies of the phone, it was still Kaidou saying Inui's name.

"Oh, Kaidou—" His hand shook. His voice shook. "—I've missed you—"

"Fsssssssssssssh."

Inui froze. How is it that he still knows what to say to silence me?

"Senpai, I...I, uh..."

He can't get the words out. He's just as nervous as I am. Hope surged through Inui, and he clutched the phone tighter.

"Yes, Kaidou, what is it? Have the long years away finally worn you down? My beloved, wonderful, amazing Kaidou, how—"

Kaidou sighed. "Senpai, this is why I broke up with you."

...oh. "Oh. Yes." ... "...I—I'm sorry, Kaidou. Forgive me."

What kind of a horrible person was he, to not even remember that? Inui bowed his head in defeat and hung up the phone.

It rang again not even a moment later, and if a phone could sound angry, this one definitely was.

"Inui-senpai," Kaidou said, the second Inui picked up. "It's rude to hang up on people."

What kind of terrible human being was he?! "I am sorry, Kaidou." Inui removed the phone from his ear and moved to—

"SENPAI, that means don't hang up on me!"

Chastised, Inui returned the phone to its proper place by his ear.

"I need your help," Kaidou continued. Inui's heart skipped a beat. His hand twitched. Only after it had twitched again did he realize that it was creeping towards his old green notebooks, stacked away to ward off time and abandonment under his bed. His fingers sought one with the most worn cover, a name lovingly inscribed onto the supple binding. A pen was still pressed between the pages where he'd written his last note. Inui picked it up, and it fit snugly in his hand just as it had years ago.

He uncapped it, and pressed the tip firmly down onto the white, lined page. A spot of black bled into the paper, and Inui quickly shifted the pen to convert it into a number.

0.5% — probability that Kaidou wants to get back together with me.

Suddenly he felt a whole lot better. Squirming, Inui wriggled his way out from under the bed, notebook in hand, cell phone still pressed to his ear, and positioned himself once more to take notes.

"Yes, Kaidou. Of course. How may I help you?"

"I need you to...meet me somewhere."

Plus 7%, Inui wrote. "Where?"

"At my house."

Plus 50%, Inui wrote, and nearly ripped the page in his excitement. 57.5%!

"Of course, Kaidou." He was amazed at his sudden calmness.

On the other end of the line, Kaidou was pacing furiously, unaware of Inui's mental and emotional battles. While Inui might be feeling confident and collected about the situation, Kaidou couldn't have been more stressed. Every time he spoke he wondered if he should tell Inui why he suddenly wanted to see him so badly after five years of silence. And every time he thought about doing it, he remembered the look on Inui's face when Kaidou had told him "no" for the last time.

He just couldn't bring himself to do it. So he paced instead, trying to work out his frustration by moving.

He hissed. This was so confusing.

Sensing the conflicted nature of Kaidou's thoughts, Inui paused in his calculations. "Is something wrong, Kaidou? You sound agitated."

Inui-senpai still knew what he was thinking. Kaidou was very glad they were on the phone, because there was a blush on his face he most definitely did not want anyone to see. Yes, he wanted to say, Everything's wrong and I'm not sure if I'm fixing it or making it worse. "N-no, senpai."

Inui didn't sound convinced. "Kaidou, there is a 87.3% chance you are lying to me."

He was doing probabilities again. Kaidou flushed. At least he's not completely broken, he tried to reason to himself. I was worried. It's...good to hear him like this, but still...

He gave in. He couldn't take this anymore. "Senpai, it's not about me."

Not about him? What's not about him? Inui frowned. "What isn't?"

Kaidou's only response was to hiss. While Inui was inwardly glad that Kaidou had not lost that endearing habit over the years, he knew that this silence meant that something wasn't right. "Kaidou. Please tell me."

Kaidou fidgeted, pausing in front of his living room window to look out across the street at the apartment complex. "Senpai, I really don't—"

"Kaidou."

Just the way he said it sent chills down Kaidou's spine. His resolution fell, and he stared straight ahead at the apartments across the street where Momo lived. I wonder what that idiot's doing now, he found himself thinking, then shook his head to clear his thoughts of that nonsense. This isn't about Momo. It's about...

"Momoshiro. It's about him."

Inui froze. "What about Momoshiro, Kaidou."

"Momoshiro's in trouble and that's why I need your help," Kaidou said, curtly. Something wasn't right, and this was it. ...or maybe it was the view out the window? Kaidou was absolutely positive he hadn't been able to see those trees before. Where had they come from? Had they always been there?

The bottom dropped out of Inui's world. He barely mustered the strength to cross out all the calculations he'd made and write instead, Probability of Kaidou wanting to get back together with me: minus 50%. Well, at least I'm the one he turns to for help. That's something. Yes. I will content myself with something!

The conversation settled into an awkward silence. Kaidou would have checked his watch to see how much time was left before Momo's demise, but his thoughts were otherwise occupied as he stared across the street, thinking hard. There was no way those trees could be new. They couldn't have grown so tall so fast. That meant that something had to be missing. But what was it?

Momoshiro's missing, his mind supplied helpfully. Kaidou frowned. Yes, Momoshiro was missing, but that didn't explain why he could suddenly see right through Momoshiro's house—

Momoshiro's house—

"Senpai, I have to go," Kaidou blurted numbly. He hung up the phone, abruptly cutting off Inui's confused protests. He turned his phone off before it could ring again and slipped it into his pocket before grabbing the address he'd written down earlier and running for the door.

Momoshiro, you idiot!

He arrived at the house a scant fifteen minutes before time was up, breathing hard, but there. The vibrant decor failed to startle him (he'd seen Momoshiro's apartment once, and nothing could be worse than that), and Kaidou went right up to the yellow, black and red door and, since there was no doorbell, knocked.

There was a long silence in which Kaidou worried that he might be at the wrong address. But no—there was no way this could be the wrong address. Not with a house looking like this one did. Only a house so eccentric as this could hide somebody psycho enough to kidnap Momoshiro.

Kaidou suddenly felt a little better. He could deal with crazy people. He dealt with Momoshiro all the time.

Finally the door opened. Kaidou took a deep breath and prepared himself for whatever—whoever—was inside.

The door opened...on nothing.

Huh?

What he could see was quite literally nothing. It was pitch black inside the house, and despite how he craned his neck and head and squinted, Kaidou could not see more than a foot or so past the door. That was...creepy. He wasn't so sure about this anymore.

Momoshiro, he reminded himself, This is for the idiot!

His triumphant charge inside was halted by a light appearing at the end of the long, dark hall beyond the doorway. Kaidou blinked, now very much unnerved. The light grew closer, and he could see it was a single candle, seeming to float its way forwards without support from anything. Kaidou took a step backwards.

The candle came closer, and closer, until he could see that it wasn't really floating at all, but being suspended in the air by a pair of hands cloaked in black gloves, the figure itself cloaked in a black cloak.

Against his will, Kaidou took another step backwards, wanting to run but ready to stand and fight if he had to.

The cloaked figure spoke. Kaidou almost jumped out of his skin.

"I've been waiting for you...Sadaharu!"

Kaidou blinked. The figure just stood there, waiting. Kaidou blinked again.

"Um...no. I'm not Sadaharu." (It felt weird calling his senpai that.)

If the shrouded figure could blink in surprise, it would have. It seemed to be taken aback. "You're...not?"

Kaidou opened his mouth to reply that no, he was Kaidou, but the shrouded figure cut him off by pulling the hood of his cloak off viciously, staring him in the face with closed, wild eyes.

"No, you're not! CURSES!" He threw the burning candle to the floor in a rage. It rolled off into a corner.

Kaidou would have taken another step backwards, but those eyes held him frozen in place. "I'm Kaidou," he said, at a loss. "Inui-senpai...couldn't make it."

"WHAT?!" Yanagi screeched. Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed Kaidou's arm and pulled him inside, marching him down the darkened corridor before he could even protest.

"If he won't come for Momoshiro he'll surely come for Kaidou," he muttered furiously as they went. Kaidou didn't need to wonder what he meant, because it was suddenly far too clear that he had just been kidnapped as well.

"Inui-senpai will never come to you," he started, viciously, but even as the words left his mouth he knew they weren't true.

Yanagi laughed madly. He laughed so madly and hysterically he couldn't reply.

"Yanagi-senpai's scary," Kirihara muttered, as he passed them going the other way. "Senpai! Why are all the lights off?"

"Leave them, Akaya, it's for dramatic effect!" Yanagi snapped. Kaidou squirmed but the dataman's grip was too hard to squirm out of.

"Fine." Kirihara pouted. "Who's that? Another Seigaku loser?"

"Hey."

"Kaidou Kaoru," Yanagi informed him, "He's joining his friend Momoshiro downstairs."

Momoshiro's here? Kaidou went still instantly to listen.

"Okay, fine, whatever." Kirihara seemed to have lost interest with the situation entirely. "I'll go tell buchou and we can have a tea party or something with Seigaku, wouldn't that be nice?"

"You're not funny, Akaya."

"Whatever."

Kirihara left, and with him went Kaidou's one and only hope of escaping. Darn it.

Yanagi marched him straight down the darkened hallway and down a darkened flight of rickety stairs into a similarly darkened basement. By this point in time Kaidou's eyes had adjusted to the darkness somewhat and he was able to make out the form of Momoshiro, tied to a folding chair, with a large bruise on his forehead and duct tape over his mouth.

"Momoshiro!"

"Mmnphnn!"

Kaidou began to struggle against his captor, but the hands were forcing him into another folding chair and the next thing he knew, he was tied to it and unable to move. He glared, but it failed! Yanagi was unaffected and actually reached into Kaidou's pocket, pulling out his cell phone.

"HEY! Give that back!"

"Sadaharu will answer if it's from Kaidou," Yanagi murmured distractedly, and left. The door to the basement shut and the lock clicked, trapping them inside and in the dark.

"...this is all your fault, idiot."

"Mmnn phnnn."

It was no fun arguing when he couldn't understand Momoshiro's replies. Kaidou sighed with frustration and began to see if he could wiggle out of his bonds. Or at least undo them by folding the chair...

Having made contact with Kaidou for the first time in years only to lose contact with Kaidou almost immediately, Inui was torn between a state of bliss and a state of panic. Where was Kaidou? Where could Kaidou be? Where oh where? Where would he go after hanging up the phone so abruptly?

He said something about Momoshiro...and then he hung up on me. He didn't even give me a chance to respond. And he'd insisted that my hanging up on him was rude, and then he hung up on me...

Something must have happened. It was the only explanation. Something sudden and drastic and terrible enough to make Kaidou break from common courtesy.

As his senpai, it was Inui's responsibility to find out. His fingers moved over the keypad on the phone he was still holding. With each jerk of his fingers a little of his shock wore , which speed-dial was Kaidou's? Oh, right. One! For One-And-Only!

Inui's thumb moved over the one. The keypad there was worn, the surface rubbed off by so many calls to Kaidou. Inui pressed the number. His ears still remembered the cheerful beep that sounded whenever he pushed the One, letting him know that his call was on its way. In fact, his mind still remembered the ringtone he associated with Kaidou, so bright and cheerful it was like it was ringing right now.

...oh wait. It was.

Inui blinked down at the vibrating phone. Kaidou is calling me again?

He picked up, eagerly. "Kaidou! Why did you hang up—?"

"Hello, Sadaharu."

The low, mysterious voice that cut him off was not Kaidou. No, not at all. Inui stilled. He remembered this voice far too well.

"Renji."

"Sadaharu."

Tension.

"It's been a long time, Renji."

"Far too long, Sadaharu."

"Not long enough."

"I beg to differ."

The silence between them stretched. The tension grew.

Then Inui chuckled maliciously. "Still living by yourself, Renji?"

Yanagi gasped. His voice shook with carefully controlled emotion. "Still fraternizing with kouhai, Sadaharu?"

Now it was Inui's turn to gasp. Before he could protest that it wasn't fraternization, it was friendship! a voice from the other end of the phone cut him off with its own tear-filled gasp. "Yanagi-senpai, does this mean you don't like me?!"

"Akaya, no! I didn't mean—"

"Ooooh?" Inui sniggered. "Now who's fraternizing with kouhai? Renji?"

Yanagi hissed. "That was underhanded, Sadaharu. Akaya, no! Stop that! I'm on the phone!"

Inui heard a whine. "But it's my house!"

Inui adjusted his glasses on his nose. "So you live with your kouhai?"

"No, I do not 'live with him'," Yanagi snapped, pushing Kirihara away with his foot. "I'm merely doing business here."

"Business, hmm?"

"Business, yes."

"Business that involves kouhai?" Inui was smug. "I've done that kind of business before."

"No, you haven't." Yanagi's voice was smug, too, and Inui felt something cold trickle down his spine as he continued. "You've never held a hostage before."

"Yes, I have," Inui pointed out, remembering.

"Ah, but you've never kidnapped your significant other's lover, have you? Sadaharu."

That was true. Inui had never kidnapped Momoshiro.

"Renji! You have kidnapped Momoshiro for me?" Maybe old friendships never died. Inui felt a surge of hope.

But no. Yanagi's maniacal laugh brought back the cold sensation sliding down Inui's spine. "No, Sadaharu, oh no. It was not I who kidnapped Momoshiro."

"What?"

"However, it was I who kidnapped your beloved...Kaidou."

Inui gasped. "What?!"

"He came quite willingly. I'll admit I was surprised, since I thought it was you he cared for."

The cold sensation tripled. Inui felt as if he was drowning. "That's—that's a lie, Renji. You have no data."

"Then does your data explain why Kaidou is currently sitting in my basement, waiting for you to come get him before he dies, Sadaharu?"

Inui looked down at his meager 7.5% .

"I—of course it does!" he lied. "Are you questioning my data?! Renji? You have no basis for—"

"Kaidou is in my basement," Yanagi repeated. Inui froze. "Would you pay any price to free him, Sadaharu?"

Inui replied without hesitation. "Of course! Kaidou is my one and only!" Perhaps it was not a good idea to say that. Oh, well, he'd already said it. "Kaidou is number one on my speed dial. There's nothing I wouldn't do for him!"

Yanagi froze. That is the speed-dial number I assigned Sadaharu...

"Name your price," Inui stated confidently. This could be his big chance. If Momoshiro couldn't save Kaidou, Inui would! Inui-senpai to the rescue, now and forever! "I will win back Kaidou!"

Yanagi named his price.

"Your love."

The pen fell out of Inui's fingers.

Lost without it, he stuttered. "I—I can't, Renji. Kaidou is my one and only—"

"Then he dies," Yanagi spat, through with beating around the bush, "I knew it was useless trying to convince you to come back to me! Farewell, Sadaharu, and to your little kouhai too!" He hung up viciously.

In a daze, Inui did so as well.

Kaidou...my precious Kaidou...dead...? How can this be? How can my love have killed you?

Oh, Kaidou...no, Kaidou...

Inui turned his face up to the ceiling in despair, only to get a mouthful of water from the leak in his roof.

Oh, Kaidou, he thought miserably, blinking the damp from his eyes, Is there any way I can save you?

Automatically, Tezuka whacked the rebounding tennis ball towards the wall. Anyone viewing him might not have noticed anything amiss, so stoic and graceful was he, but inside he was as turbulent as the raging sea. Despite what anyone (Fuji) might have thought, Tezuka did have emotions, and right now...they hurt. If only his heart could go as numb as his hand, which had been clenched around the handle of his racket for—minutes? Hours? Days? He had lost track.

Time was not the only thing Tezuka had lost track of. Fuji had disappeared from his life as dramatically as he had appeared, leaving naught but a gaping void. Tensais were one of a kind, and hard to keep hold of. Tezuka supposed he should have remembered this. Perhaps then Fuji would not have left.

But he had.

Tezuka grunted and smacked the ball again.

Seeking solace, he had turned to the only other constant in his life: Atobe. They had, after all, been playing tennis once every day for some time. Sometimes more than once every day. Sometimes several times every day. The solution had seemed so...convenient. So easy. So...

Perhaps that should have been a warning.

But now it was too late.

Tezuka thwacked the ball with an angry swing. It wasn't his fault. How could he have known? Maybe he should have seen it coming. It was how Atobe was. He was cunning. A manipulator. A betrayer. Atobe had only been using him. Tezuka felt...used.

Was this how Fuji had felt?

The tennis ball cracked remorsefully against the cement. Tezuka swung at it again.

I let my guard down.

Was this—

Cutting short his morose, angsty introspection, Tezuka's cell phone buzzed loudly in his pants. He fished it out with his free hand and answered. "Tezuka."

"Tezuka," the voice on the other end said. It was a low voice. It was a familiar voice. Tezuka knew this voice. "This is important."

Reflexively, Tezuka hung up.

He blinked, staring with detached curiosity at his hand, which had ended the call of its own accord. How strange that a body part can move without conscious attention, he thought, as his other hand automatically continued to wield the racket against the ball.

His phone vibrated again, insistently. Tezuka put it to his ear and answered. "Tezuka."

"Tezuka," the voice on the other end said. Tezuka knew this voice.

"Inui," he said.

"Yes," Inui said, "This is important."

Tezuka's thumb twitched.

"Do not hang up on me," Inui said, "It is a breach of common courtesy. Additionally, I have already been hung up on several times today."

"Sorry," Tezuka said, "Habit."

"Ah," Inui said. "I called you first. I am unsure as to why. It seemed right."

"Of course," Tezuka intoned. "It's the Tezuka Zone."

"Regardless," Inui continued after a moment, "I have a problem."

Tezuka missed his swing. He looked down at his racket.

"I have a plan."

Kaidou blinked in the dimness of the basement. "He's not coming."

Yanagi glared at Kaidou. "He will come. He would never abandon you."

"Mmphnnmm..." Momo muttered skeptically.

"Yeah," Kaidou agreed. It was the first time he had agreed with Momo.

"You don't believe that," Yanagi stated levelly, gazing at Kaidou with closed eyes. "You know he'll come. I can see it." He turned away.

Kaidou was silent.

"The SNAKE is in the cage. Repeat, the SNAKE is in the cage."

"Snake? What snake?"

"CAT. This is PILLAR. Is MOTHERHEN nearby?"

Gasp. "I'll go get him!" Muffled scuffling. Click.

"MOTHERHEN here! What's happening?"

"This is PILLAR. We have an emergency."

"Is it—"

"The SNAKE is in the cage."

"No!"

"The PEACH is with him."

Gasp!

"NO!"

"I'm here with DATAMAN. We're mobilizing. Call APPLE and SUSHI and rendezvous in one hour."

"Roger that!"

"10-4!"

"Don't let your guard down."

"He's not coming, senpai."

"Yes he is!" Yanagi snapped. "Do not speak of that which you do not understand."

"But it's been hours," Kirihara whined, sticking a finger in his ear and wiggling it around. "He'd be here by now if he was coming."

"He's coming! No senpai would ever abandon their kouhai."

"Even you?"

"Even—" Yanagi paused and carefully weighed the ramifications of his sentence. Kirihara watched him expectantly.

"The SNAKE is in the cage? Yes. The SNAKE and the PEACH are in the cage. Together."

"Well, that is interesting news. Are they coming out anytime soon?"

"APPLE! This is serious!"

"Oh, very. Where is this cage? Should I bring my camera?"

"No! We're mobilizing! This is an emergency!"

"That's strange. Last I heard from PEACH he was...heading over to a friend's."

"The last time I saw him—" Sniffle. "—I was kicking him out of my house."

"There, there. I'm sure he doesn't blame you."

"You think so?"

"CAT told me what happened. It was the right thing to do."

"You're probably right." Sigh. "I still feel bad about it."

"Don't. It's in the past. It's time to move forward."

"Yeah...so how are you doing?"

"We're doing well. SUSHI's making lunch right now. He's very talented."

"CAT and I should come over some time!"

"You should. We'd all enjoy that."

Pleasant laughter.

"Would you like to talk to him?"

"Oh, no, that's all right. We're on a bit of a schedule."

"Oh, that's right."

"But you could tell him 'hi' for me?"

Chuckle. "Of course."

"You should have enough time to eat before we rendezvous with PILLAR. CAT and I were just about to have lunch, anyway!"

"...PILLAR?"

"Yeah, he's with DATAMAN right now!"

"DATAMAN, hmm?"

"That's right!"

Silence.

"APPLE? Are you still there?"

"On second thought, let's get this over with before lunch. SUSHI and I will be right there."

"Okay!"

"APPLE out."

Kirihara tapped his foot impatiently. "I'm waiting."

"It is a hard question to answer," Yanagi said, at length, in a desperate bid for time.

"Would you or wouldn't you," Akaya repeated, "rescue your kouhai if he were in ever so much danger? Senpai?"

Yanagi hesitated.

"Senpaaaaaai!"

Yanagi looked frantically about the basement for something he could use as a distraction. He gasped and pointed. "Akaya! The window!"

Kirihara crossed his arms petulantly. "I'm not falling for that again."

"No! He's here!"

Kirihara blinked. "Wha?"

"He's here!" Yanagi exclaimed joyfully. "Sadaharu, you came!" He ran out of the basement, as though slow-motion frolicking across a field of daisies, his arms flailing through the air.

Akaya was a little more cautious. He stood on tip-toes to see out the window. His eyes widened in horror and he shrieked.

"Senpai, come back! He brought Seigaku AND THEY BROUGHT TENNIS RACKETS!"

He too raced out of the basement, still screaming.

"SENPAI! BUUUCHOOOOUUUUU!"

Warned by Akaya, Yukimura quickly mobilized the house. Tennis rackets were grabbed, mustard-yellow jackets thrown on, shoelaces tied and double-knotted. The team spilled out of the front door, a yellow flood, rushing across the lawn to combat the blue tide of would-be rescuers that threatened to overtake them.

Time slowed. Hearts pounded.

Th-thump.

Grass crushed under the weight of many feet.

Th-thump.

Rackets raised above heads. Mouths open in silent battle cries.

Th-thump.

Drawing close enough to see the whites of their eyes.

Th-thump.

Except for Yanagi and Fuji, who did not have their eyes open.

Th-thump!

And then they met.

"FIGHT-OOOOO!"

The battle that followed was of indescribably epic proportions. Words fail to do it justice. There were screams. There were tears. Balls flew through the air. Tennis rackets sang like the finest blades, wielded by masters of their craft. No one would back down. They would fight to the end.

"BURNING!" Taka shouted, swinging his racket wildly. "BURNING!"

"Yes, Taka-san!" said everyone, drawing strength from his cries.

"BURNING!" Taka repeated, holding his racket aloft.

"BURNING!" Seigaku echoed.

"No! BURNING!" He pointed with his racket. Eyes followed the weapon and saw the truth.

The house.

On fire.

The house was on fire.

"MY HOUSE IS ON FIRE!" Kirihara shrieked.

"KAIDOU AND MOMO ARE ON FIRE!" Eiji gasped. Like a rhinoceros, Inui bellowed and surged forward.

"KAIDOU!"

"Inui, wait!" Oishi yelled, "You'll be—"

"—ON FIRE!" Taka finished, "BURNING!"

But Inui had already disappeared into the raging inferno, so like the passion in his heart. There was nothing to do but wait and hope that he would remember to save Momo, too.

Inside the house, the basement was filled with smoke and fire.

"I think the house is burning down," said Kaidou.

"Mph hnm?" Momo asked, rolling his eyes.

"Don't get smart with me!" Kaidou growled. "We're in mortal peril!"

"Nhm fhph!"

"Shut up! Try and fold your folding chair!" Kaidou strained against the ropes.

Momo sighed.

The door burst open. Through the explosion of flame and wood, a silhouette was framed against the door. It had glasses.

"Inui-senpai!" Kaidou cried.

"Mmrn-mnphn!"

"It is I," the silhouette said, "Inui, come to rescue you! Kaidou!"

"Mmmph?!" said Momo, in panic.

Inui raced forwards and picked up Kaidou, folding chair and all, holding him tenderly in his arms. "I am here for you. There is nothing to fear."

"I'm afraid you'll leave Momo behind," Kaidou said, flatly. Inui looked pained. "Please? Save him? For me?"

Inui looked at Momo. Momo did his best to look helpless and in need, which wasn't hard, considering that he was homeless, tired, hungry, thirsty, dirty, unwashed, unshaven, unbathed, shoeless, lost, confused, hungover, possibly sick, kidnapped, gagged, and now in danger of being on fire. Poor Momo.

No, really.

Inui sighed.

"Please?" Kaidou said plaintively.

Inui had never been able to say no to him in the past, and he wasn't able to start now. He picked up Momo's chair, his love for Kaidou giving him the strength of a thousand men, and carried them both out to safety. They were greeted with cries of relief and joy as the house exploded behind them. A safe distance away from flaming shrapnel, Momo and Kaidou were quickly and efficiently untied. Coughing up smoke, Kaidou pointed a shaking and irate finger at Yanagi. "This is all your fault!"

"Me?" Yanagi queried, befuzzled, "You must be mistaken."

"No I'm not," Kaidou snapped, "You had a candle. You threw it to the floor! Who even does that?"

"I expected it to roll harmlessly into the corner," Yanagi protested.

Kirihara rounded on him. "You burned down my house?!"

"Akaya, no, I didn't intend—"

"Let's go home," Kaidou said to Momo, over the sound of Rikkai bickering.

Momo spit the gag out of his mouth and looked away. He didn't say anything.

"Are you deaf?" Kaidou grumbled, "I said, let's go home."

"I don't have a home, okay, Mamushi?" Momo snapped.

"I know," Kaidou said. Momo blinked. "You should have told me."

Momo looked like a kicked puppy. "You threw me out."

Kaidou's heart melted. He held out his hand.

"You should have told me," he repeated, softly.

A delicate tune rose in their ears. The bystanders sighed happily. The Golden Pair held hands. The air around Inui appeared to have turned grey.

Momo stared at the outstretched hand. "I don't..."

"You have a home with me," Kaidou said.

Momo took his hand, stars shining in his eyes. The music swelled gloriously. A wave crashed majestically behind them. The sun began to set, painting the sky with rose and pink. A flock of doves flew through the clouds. A few of them settled on the happy pair's shoulders. A straggler pooped on Inui's head.

"Let's go home," Momo agreed.

And so Momo was no longer homeless, tired, hungry, thirsty, dirty, wet, unwashed, unshaven, unbathed, shoeless, lost, etc.

"Really?"

"Yep, that's what happened," Momo said amicably. He took another bite of his burger. "It was all kind of awesome. Kind of sucky, too, but really awesome."

"Well, good for you," Echizen said. His voice sounded kind of weird over the phone. Momo frowned.

"Something wrong?"

He heard a strange, choked noise.

"Echizen?"

"I just have one question," Echizen mumbled after a moment.

"Shoot," Momo said, around another mouthful.

"Why didn't you call me?"

He sounded hurt, as hurt as Echizen could sound. Momo blinked, and swallowed.

"Y'know, that never occurred to me. Tell you what, next time I'm homeless I definitely will, definitely! You'll be the first person I call."

"I—"

"Oh, gotta go! Mamushi's home and he doesn't like it when I eat before dinner. I'll call you later!"

He hung up. Ryoma looked sadly at the phone before placing it in its cradle.

"Guess it's just you and me, Karupin," he murmured, bending down to pet his cat.

Karupin meowed and walked out of the room.

"Karupin—!"

Abandoned not only by his senpai, but also by his cat.

Poor Ryoma.