Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice.

Summary: Mikan is a natural born Hostess because she was taught to be one. Her parents had not realized how much their daughter had come to despise being the Club's Number One Kyabajou.

Rated: T for Language

キャバ嬢の生き方
Kyabajou No Ikikata
by Yamashina Risaki

Chapter One

"Few enjoy noisy overcrowded functions. But they are a gesture of goodwill on the part of Host or Hostess, and also on the part of guests who submit to them."

– Fannie Hurst

Steady. Back straight. Stomach in. Chest out. Chin up. Inhale. Exhale. She repeated the process in her mind, making sure there were no mistakes afforded. Her feet glided with feathery steps across the bridge towards her assigned sector for the night.

She wore a traditional, a kimono to be exact. Blazing orange, designed with red petals of the deadly flower, a Red Spider Lily. Dark, auburn curls were held up with a unique pair of Orange Jade chopsticks, leaving part of her frame rested naturally beside her ears. A simple pair of Cat's Eye dangling by both her ears had held in contrast with her dark, amber orbs which shimmered under the reflection of the night's full moon. Her lips pursed perfectly into a line making her features close to flawless.

Her delicate fingers brushed against the smooth surface of the shoji before sliding it open. She knelt gracefully down onto the wooden flooring, her left hand placed over her right as she landed on the tatami-matted flooring from the interior. Her head was bowed low, in respect to her customers.

She was taught and trained by the best, and everyone expected the best from her. As soon as she was given the order to rise, she saw them gasp. She fought her inner rationally. She never ceased to bring awe to her customer's expressions. That, she was disgusted. She picked up their whispers. They were of her.

She soon found herself shutting their voices out of her mind as she greeted, with a slight tilt of her lips which one could hardly call a smile, yet she was beautiful the way she presented herself nonetheless, "Konbanwa. Mikan Sakura desu."

She was the center of the customers' attention, yet again. She felt the glares, from the other hostesses who had been in the room since her entrance, directed to her. If glares could kill, or burn, she would had been long gone, or burnt to nothingness. Not the worst idea.

"Come over, little blossom." She distinctively made out the voice of an aged, salaryman sitting near the corner of the low table. She nodded towards the man then proceeded to keep the shoji shut. She made sure her stance remained upright as she made her way to the man's side.

Once again, she knelt in respect. Her eyes traveled to the cigarette he had conveniently tugged onto his lips. Upon instincts, she lit the weed with the lighter she had professionally hidden within the flaming, red obi which held her kimono in its rightful place, with her left hand held upon the right sleeves of the kimono. Yet, such gracefulness and elegance were not appreciated, not in a place where they were labeled, hostesses.

After relieving a ring of smoke, the customer was offered a cup of shochu Mikan had ritually prepared for him. Yes, it was a ritual. The way she acted around all her customers, she had long categorized them as a cycle. She would light their cigarette, pour a soothing cup of shochu sealing a contract between an entertainer and the entertained, and then she would make sure they pour all of their troubles out on her.

"… and then he threw the whole stack of invoice on my tables," He paused to take another sip of the bitter solution which she was sure had burnt his throat, he exaggerated the next set of words, "Right in front of everyone!"

She soothed him with her hand against his plump back, she made circular notions to calm him down from the anger he was presently clouded with. And he did. He smiled sadly as he returned to gulp his refilled shochu. Mikan smiled, "Tanaka-san, please let this unworthy one attempt to take your frustrations away." She felt her throat went dry as soon as she drowned her intestines with the flammable solution.

His smile widened, only to conclude her victory. And she was always concluded winner in the end. She was born with it. The talent was hers and hers alone. There was no one there to compete, to throw her off the throne she had sat herself on for years, without much effort put in.

"Tanaka-san seemed to have taken the liking to you, Mikan-chan."

Mikan had her eyes fixed on the Mama-san. She held a similar gaze over the young hostess. Experience seemed to be the only difference between the two conflicting chocolate-shaded orbs. Ironically, she was the same woman who had spent nine months straight nurturing her in her womb and gave life to her. She was also the same woman who had thought her ways of an entertainer, a woman, and the seducer.

"Yes." Mikan answered firmly. The woman does not like it when she spoke soft.

The woman smiled, proudly. Her eyes glinted and Mikan was sure it was caused by the thought of cash-rolling. This woman had always been the money-driven. Never had she once showed her the proper way a daughter should communicate with a mother. Everything was business. And so, she was taught.

"Trust me; he's going to bring in more business than you ever think he could."

Mikan dreaded. So she was right after all. It was all about business. It always had been. She silently laughed at her naivety for a hope so impossible like a family dinner or a random family gathering.

She nodded, respectfully. Her face held nothing but a firm jaw set. Despite having entertained a number of customers for the night, her features were still as perfect as it had been for the day. The way her hair fell above her powdered face and the way her eyes were kept shadowed, they were distinct.

Mikan took her leave silently as soon as Papa-san came into the Mama-san's sight. She was sick of waiting, and sick of hoping, that something more would come out of their daily make-out sessions. At least, she would hope one of them would take an initiative to joke a brother or sister for her so that, she would have someone whom she could turn to for comfort, for love even.

None came, as predicted.

Tonight, she let herself wander down the streets of Kabukicho. Tonight, she would let herself be served. Tonight, she wanted to let herself drown in an embrace which would keep her safe from her parent's cold shoulders. Tonight, she wanted to be an average seventeen-year-old.

This was the street she had come to grew up with, a place she would rather call home than her current. Pulling the Orange Jade chopsticks out of the tight bun at the back of her head, her gold-auburn tresses fell onto her shoulders etching naturally around her shoulders' curves. She tugged the accessory into her orange-furred purse which swung handily from her grip. There were familiar faces of other hosts and hostesses from her parent's Club and she knew they had recognized her instantly with the look of surprise plastered over their face. But with her glare, they scampered from her sight.

As a hostess herself, Mikan knew which places she would love to avoid were and she knew the consequences which would follow if she were to act carelessly. She was surprised to see a Host Club advertise none of their Hosts. The Unnamed. She trailed her fingers along the title which was attached as a metal plate beside the button number six in the lift. She had unconsciously made her way to the place, with her geta positioned under her white tabi. She walked, without swaying from the height the wooden platform had caused, nimbly down the corridors.

"Welcome to The Unnamed!"

She was greeted by two rows of young, promising, and handsome boys. She was slightly taken aback from the friendly atmosphere they had offered. The place she worked for more than seven year was never this lively. She was literally dragged into the place by two look-alikes, whom she later learnt their names as Kokoroyome and Kitsunememe, Koko and Kitsune for short.

"Is this your first time to The Unnamed?"

Mikan nodded to the blonde, blue-eyed host who looked so friendly she would have mistake him as a non-potential customer. She shook the idea off instantly, silently cursed the way she had been brought up. The Mama-san had definitely rubbed her habits on her, the wrong way.

Ruka. He introduced. Her face scrunched up when she saw him chuckle at her unresponsiveness. He said something about knowing the perfect host for her then left her by the furry lounge sofa. A tired sigh escaped her pink-glossed lips as she brought her cup of Margarita to her lips. She could faintly taste the orange-flavored liqueur before she took another sip of the salted tequila which soon lured her into another sip, this time she could taste the bitterness despite being a lime flavored beverage.

She had not realized a host was already assigned to her, sitting right opposite of her. If she had not been so enticed by the cup of tequila, she would have noticed him studying her with his intense, blood, crimson orbs closely. She ran her tongue over her lips, licking excessive salt off. Just as she was about to place her cup down, a callous hand held out to her glass. She lifted her head in surprise, only to find herself caught within two deep pools of blood, red depths.

"Hyuuga Natsume." He offered, with a smirk.

Mikan stared. It took her a while before she realized he was expecting her to acknowledge his presence by speaking. She bowed slightly as she gave her introduction as well, "Hyuuga-san. Sakura Mikan desu."

He eyed her posture, mentally took note of her professionalism. Ruka did tell him it was her first time here. But, that blonde would not miss out the way she talked, unless, he had not gotten her to talk. The way she presented herself was the same way any host would to their customers.

"Natsume." He insisted, taking his place beside her. He noted the way she straightened her posture to his advance. She was reacting instinctively. Smiling, Natsume slung his right arm lazily onto the back of the sofa, landing just beside her shoulders, brushing lightly against the silky material of her kimono, he suggested, "What would you like me to do? Mi-chan?"

Her head tilted innocently to the side as she picked up the foreign name, "Mi-chan?"

Natsume chuckled. She was cute. Did she know that? He mentally checked. He continued, "Did you not like it?"

Mikan lipped the name silently before a small smile etched itself to her lips, "I like it." She softly added.

He had his eyes fixed on her petite form as she beamed at such trivial matter. He smiled, "So, what does Mi-chan want poor o' me to do to make her happy?"

Mikan bit out a giggle when she saw Natsume made a really interesting face, a really funny expression though. She smiled, "Natsume-san really knows how to bring a smile to the customers. It gives a very warm, tingling feeling in the heart."

He chuckled, "Would you like a hug? Mi-chan?"

Surprised, she found herself questioning, "You can hug a customer?"

The raven-haired host looked at her with an amused glint which she soon caught herself look away in embarrassment. He made sure he held her chin before she turned away from his sight. Her innocent amber orbs shone brightly under the Club's dim lightings. The tilt by his lips warned her he was not going to let go of her any sooner than he had captured her.

"Yes." Amusement never did left his eyes. She continued to surprise him in ways he never thought a customer could by leaning her face gently against his chest, her right hand rested beside her face on his shirt. She sighed contently. His arms encircled around her obi, and pulled her closer against him. Her face looked really peaceful as her breathings regulated.

"Hugging is a form of healing." Natsume explained, knowing full well she was far from being asleep, "Another person's heartbeat might help to soothe one's soul."

"I see." Mikan noted softly, "I didn't know that a mere hug could calm my nerves so much." She almost sounded surprise.

His eyes were fixed on her and he was starting to wonder why he could not seem to break his sight away from this particular customer. He asked curiously, "You haven't received a hug before?" He brushed a few stray strands of her golden-brown tresses away from her frame tugging them behind her soft ear. His gentle approach swelled something within her heart. She had never been treated with gentleness.

She shook her head lightly, still attached to his chest, she slurred slightly, "Uh uh. Never gotten any. She was more interested in money. He had no time for a daughter." He assumed she was talking about her parents. His arms tightened around her, assuring her that he would be there to listen. She sighed, "I wasn't taught to."

He realized he was lost. He could not fix the broken pieces she was trying to show him. Catching Ruka sitting by the bartender, Natsume motioned for a cup of Ginger Tea.

"So," Natsume started, "What does Mi-chan likes to do?"

Her eyes fluttered open, a light smile played on her lips. She pushed herself up so she could see his reaction, "I have yet discovered." As predicted, he looked shocked. She smiled, "Natsume-san? What do you like to do?"

He looked at her. Amazed at her talent, and how easily she had countered The Unnamed's Number One host with her innocence. Pondering slightly, he smirked, "Club out, with my boys and their girls."

"Wow." Mikan stared.

"Ginger Tea!" Ruka sung his way towards the table. He passed the black mug to her casually, motioned for her to take a sip.

"Thank you." She answered shyly; she took the mug from the hands of the cheerful boy. Her curiosity got the better of her when she saw him sat himself down, opposite of herself and Natsume; she turned towards Natsume and asked timidly, "He's one of them?"

A low chuckle emitted from his throat, utterly amazed at how pure she had looked, "Yes."

"And Koko-san, Kitsune-san?" She pointed excitedly.

Natsume nodded with a smile, noticing how much her posture had slackened since the start of their meeting. For once, he felt it was an accomplishment. He wanted her to smile. He felt the need to see her bright, cheerful attitude she had hidden way behind her mask. Something about this girl, made him feel different. He wanted her smile for himself, a genuine one, which he was reward with.

For a moment, she felt happy for Natsume. He was so lucky to have a bunch of people who loved him. She covered her sadness with a slack grin. After taking a sip of the Ginger Tea, she realized the time. Gasping at the clock, she held a choke against the mint-y tea. Natsume's eyes shone worriedly as his hands worked on her back to soothe her chokes.

"Um," She started, rushed, "I have to leave for the night. It had been a pleasant time, Natsume-san, Ruka-san." She bowed, reached her hand into her bright-orange fur of purse, she fished the stack of tips Tanaka-san had handed to her out. She held it out to the dark-haired host who had been staring in awe at the amount she had fished out. That, was a lot of zeros! He wanted to exclaim. "Thank you for keeping me accompany for the night." Mikan held onto his hands which were rigid for the moment, and gently shoved the stack into his palm, "Good night."

She was about to leave when she heard him call out. Her head turned to see him running towards her with an expression close to confusion, "This is too much." He bit.

She looked at him in confusion.

"This amount," Natsume started breathlessly, "Is enough to buy me as your personal host for the whole year!"

Mikan gawked. He cannot be serious. Those were considered tips in her parent's Club! Then again, speaking of her parents, there was no time to lose. Not now, not ever. She did the only thing she thought was rational, "I don't need those. You can have them." With that, she ran off into the streets, back to her Club, her home.

"Serious dude," Ruka stared on, "She must be filthy rich."

Natsume frowned. His hand held onto the stack tightly, he muttered, "She is a hostess herself."

"No fucking way!" A chorus of shouts sounded from behind, which he highly believed were from his boys.

End of Chapter One

Glossary

The 'kimono' is a Japanese traditional garment worn by women, men and children. It literally means 'a thing to wear'.

A 'shoji' is a Japanese traditional architecture, a door, window or room divider consisting of translucent paper over a frame of wood which holds together a sort of grid of wood or bamboo. These doors are usually designed to slide open, thus conserve space that would be required by a swinging door.

'Tatami' (which originally means 'folded and piled') mats are used as traditional Japanese floorings. They were traditionally made of rice straw to form the core, with a covering of woven soft rush straw, made in uniform sizes.

'Konbanwa' means 'Good evening' in Japanese.

'Desu', a Japanese copula, a word used to grammatically link a subject and predicate. It is often translated into English using the verb, 'it is'.

A 'salaryman' refers to someone whose income is salary based; particularly those working for corporations.

An 'obi' is a sash worn with a kimono, or with the uniforms used by practitioners of Japanese Martial Arts.

'Shochu' is a distilled beverage native to Japan. It is most commonly distilled from barley, sweet potatoes or rice. Typically, it contains 25% of alcohol by volume.

'Mama-san' is a woman who works in a supervisory role in certain Southeast Asia, typically those related to the sex industries, or those in drinking places as well. 'Papa-san' may be used to refer to a man of a similar role.

'Kabukicho' is an entertainment and red-light district in Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan. Kabukicho is the location where many hostess bars, host bars, love hotels, shops, restaurants and nightclubs, are and is often called the 'Sleepless Town'

'Geta' are a form of traditional Japanese footwear that resembles both clogs and flip-flops. They are a kind of scandal with an elevated wooden base held onto the foot with a fabric thong to keep the foot well above the ground.

'Tabi' are traditional socks that are ankle high and with a separation between the big toe and other toes. They are worn by both men and women with zori, geta, and other traditional thonged footwear.

'Margarita' is a common tequila-based cocktail, made with tequila mixed with triple sec and lime or lemon juice, often served with salt on the glass rim.

A/N: Sinful Attempts, is not on hold. I have a chapter working for that story and will soon update. This story would not exceed four chapters because I personally felt I was trying to practice and brush up my writings here. But still, this idea had been something new and I hope something really do come out of it. I liked the idea of having Mikan and Natsume in the Host and Hostess industry a lot. I wonder if anyone agrees with me though. Thank you for staying till the end, so would you please do this writer-wannabe a favor by leaving a review of what you think so she could gauge if she had been on the right track? Till next chapter, peepos.