A/N: So, prepare yourself for some intense second-hand embarrassment. That's all I got to say.

Enjoy.

First thing's first, Momo needed money.

Considering Momo blew most of his allowance on twenty loaves of bread, the obvious route to success was figuring out a way to capitalize on his now abundant amount of wheat product. He had fourteen loaves of bread to work with, absolutely no cooking equipment whatsoever, and very few culinary skills in general. But Momotarou was always resourceful, for what he lacked in cooking skills, he made up with zany antics. Who said he could only make money off of feeding people bread? The entertainment business was where it was at.

As he and Nitori sat on the bottom bunk, Momo took inventory of everything in their dorm room, looking for anything that could be of use. In the snack department, they had two jars of peanut butter, saltwater taffy, half a box of corn flakes, and wasabi peas. In the toy department, they had toy soldiers, a butterfly net, a harmonica, a bottle of bubble soap, and a couple of water guns. In the art department, they had crayons, some markers, some printer paper, blue glitter Nitori had to use for a school project once, scissors, and all sorts of stickers Nitori collected for some reason. For everything else, they had razors, shaving cream, a pair of fishnet tights that Nitori wore last year at the maid café, Momo's prized golden speedo, and duct tape.

It wasn't much, but they could entertain people somehow.

So, with a cautious, gentle air to his voice, Momo turned to Nitori and asked, "Nitori-senpai, we're friends, right?"

But Nitori knew where this was going and said, "No."

"Whaaaat?" Momo's heart broke a little. "Nitori-senpaiiiii, how can you say that?"

Oh, Nitori didn't want to be cruel. They were obviously friends. How else would Nitori have gotten this deep in embarrassing shenanigans? One could say he was spending too much time hanging out with Momotarou lately, which is why when Momo observed the contents of their dorm with the intensity of MacGyver on a mission, Nitori wanted none of those plans.

"I'm not doing it," he said, crossing his arms.

"You don't even know what the plan is!"

"I'm still not doing it."

"I just need you to collect money. You won't even have to do anything." Momo bowed before Nitori on the ground, his arms stretched out, and pleaded, "Please, Nitori-senpaiiii!"

Don't give in, Nitori told himself, it'll be bad if you give in.

Momo latched himself onto Nitori's legs, whimpering, begging, wailing. Oh god. Nitori attempted to nudge Momo's head away only to have Momo stubbornly nuzzle his face into Nitori's knees, shaking him, begging him, practically trying to fuse with him. But no, Nitori told himself, because things had gone too far now and this was Momo's problem, not his. Perhaps if he was assertive about not helping Momo this time, his foolish kouhai might drop the prank altogether and live peacefully again—for, who knows, a week or something.

"I'll do whatever you want!" Momo pleaded, resting his chin on Nitori's knees. His eyes sparkled like sunshine, beaming with hope and desperation, and he smiled his suffocating, sweet smile once more as he took Nitori's hands in his and insisted, "Anything."

Nitori sighed.

Nitori looked away, biting his lip.

Nitori threw his head back, groaning.

Goddamn it, not again.

"Ugh, fine, okay," Nitori groaned, falling onto his back and sinking himself into the mattress. Here he was again, walking into the lion's den behind his dimwitted kouhai. Why was he so easy to break? He didn't even want to think of what haphazard absurdity he was about to get himself into, but at least he got a favor out of it. So he said, "You owe me."

Nitori felt Momo stand up a little, gasping an eager yes, just before he plopped himself onto Nitori, rocking side to side with him in a tight hug.

"Waaahhh—oh god!"

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Momo bounced up from the bed, letting go of Nitori. "Anything, you name it! But for now, I need you to put on your swimsuit."

"I thought you said I didn't have to do anything?"

"Oh, you don't," Momo assured him, already pulling out his golden speedo from his underwear drawer. "Nothing to worry about, Nitori-senpai. You're just gonna stand there and look pretty as the money comes in."

Somehow the sounds of that made Nitori worry even more.

They were on the beach boardwalk, and since it was a Saturday afternoon, plenty of people curiously stared at Momotarou slathering his bare chest with… peanut butter.

Nitori held his hand over his eyes like a visor, his head looking down in shame as he stood in nothing but his swimsuit and a teal hoodie. Surrounding him was a miscellaneous bunch of items Momo had pulled out from their room, and just to Nitori's left was a propped up sign that read, "SHOW STARTS EVERY TEN MINUTES." Oh, it was about to be a spectacle, all right, which Nitori dreaded for many reasons. The main reason was that Momo blatantly lied to him about having nothing to do—he actually had quite a bit to do as the show technician. On the ground to the right of Nitori rested a stereo they borrowed from Sousuke, who didn't even question why, just lent it to them with a stern don't break it, and even showed them how to hook up Momo's mp3 player to it.

"Momo-kun," Nitori sighed, watching a small audience form around them. "I really don't think this is going to get us money…"

"Performance art, Nitori-senpai!" Momo shouted, now rubbing blue glitter onto his face, which gradually sprinkled onto his peanut butter-covered chest. He pointed to the supplies on the ground as he asked, "You remember the order, right?"

Bubbles. Water guns. Bread.

"Yeah…" Nitori said, reluctantly.

"Great."

There Momo stood in front of twelve or thirteen people in a golden speedo, covered in peanut butter and blue glitter. He pulled a harmonica out of his swimsuit, much to everyone's surprise and vague horror, and hummed a sharp tune to grab the audience's attention before outstretching his arms and announcing, "Welcome! I will be performing a dance I've titled 'All for the Paper Cranes' for you all! Feel free to donate any money to my lovely assistant over here by the radio."

Momo flagged his arms over to Nitori, who made no eye contact as he held up his hand to wave at the audience.

"Enjoy the show!"

And so Nitori pressed the play button on the mp3 player, triggering a playlist centered around new age electro. As the electronic beats blasted from the stereo, so began the trance-like dance by Momo, who threw his arms in the air as he rocked his shoulders from side to side. Modern dance at its worst. There was absolutely no way people were going to give money to watch a teenaged boy prance around covered in peanut butter and glitter.

The bass began to pulsate louder, triggering Nitori's first step to blow bubbles against Momo, who waved his arms like a goddamn hippie. As the horde of bubbles floated past Momo's face, his eyes shut as he got lost in the music, and Nitori gaped as more people crowded around them in awe, actually entranced by this performance. The kid smeared his hands against his glittered face and people looked like they felt moved. For crying out loud, people pulled out their cell phones to record videos.

The bridge of techno song echoed across the boardwalk, prompting Nitori to pull out the water guns from his hoodie and squirt aimlessly at Momo, who jumped around, bopping his head back and forth as he shouted, "Higher! Higher!"

Nitori squirted water towards the sky.

People audibly gasped.

But you could tell what they were most curious about. The pile of bread loaves behind Nitori. What was the lovely assistant going to do with the bread, they wondered. Did it involve the peanut butter on the dancing odd boy's chest? What did this all mean? Was this dance too deep for them, mere commoners walking along the beach boardwalk? The props used—bubbles, water guns, bread—what was their significance at being thrown in Momo's direction? Was he, perhaps, the beaming delight in a random world throwing life's obstacles at him?

Or was he just some maniac dancing as some shit was thrown at him?

The chorus rang out in the air again, and Nitori took some slices of bread from one bag and, sure enough, aimed for Momo's chest, where slices of bread stuck onto him as he leaned back further and further to parallel himself to the ground.

This was, perhaps, the dumbest thing Nitori had ever done.

And he was going to have to do this on a ten-minute cycle.

People took photos, made videos, and waved to their friends to come see. People cheered as Momo leapt in the air, flexed his pelvis out, and provocatively waved his torso with the beat. Was this art? Was this some weird strip tease? They didn't know, but they threw money over to Nitori and Momo anyway.

Dear god, they actually gave money.

And with each dance and each increase of the profits, Nitori became disillusioned with the world, because if it were this easy to make money, what purpose did he have in doing anything else? Perhaps Momo and he would become street performers for the rest of their days, living off the land and people's desperation to understand modern dance. The bohemian lifestyle.

But no, he couldn't do that. What would he tell his mother? That he had run off with his kouhai to become street performers?

"Ai-chan!"

Oh god, was his mother here?

Horrified, Nitori looked beyond the crowd Momo entertained, noticing Nagisa Hazuki's blonde curls bounce up and down as he waved for Nitori's attention. He had mixed feelings about this, because on one hand, Nitori was grateful to see Nagisa instead of his mother because he simply had no real way of explaining why he was throwing miscellaneous items at his gyrating partner-in-crime, and that was a conversation he never, ever wanted to have. Yet, on the other hand, Nagisa Hazuki was the bane of his existence, ever persistent in scandalizing Nitori's life in some fashion or another, and he was definitely not looking forward to—oh no, Nagisa was making his way over—oh no, oh no, oh no.

"Ai-chan!" Nagisa pushed his way through the crowd, making his way up to Nitori.

"He-hello, Hazuki-san…"

"What are you doing?" Nagisa asked, glancing over towards Momo, who shimmied his shoulders as he sang along with the music. "Or rather, what is that guy doing?"

"Oh." Nitori still had his music cues, so he spoke to Nagisa in between blowing bubbles toward Momo. "Momo-kun is trying to raise money for a project."

Momo spun himself in circles, letting the bubbles twirl with him.

With a pointer finger pressed against his lip, Nagisa asked, "But Ai-chan, don't you think dancing for money is a little… promiscuous?" He pointed at Nitori's swimsuit. "Are you going to dance, too?"

"What? No!" Nitori held up the water guns. "I'm just props."

Nitori said this with such simplicity that even Nagisa took notice of the casual tone he had developed since meeting Momotarou Mikoshiba. It sure did seem like his life got more exciting with the peach boy wonder around, a constant bag of surprises. In a way, Nagisa envied Nitori for having such a lively kouhai. Not that he disliked his own friends, but he doubted the Iwatobi team would be up with the level of performance art Momo was willing to enact in front of a crowd.

"Hey, Ai-chan—"

"Could you stop calling me that."

"—hand me one of those guns, please."

Nagisa originally came to the boardwalk to frequent that new ice cream joint that opened up, but getting the opportunity to squirt water at dear Ai-chan was just as fun, he felt. If only Rei hadn't been busy with homework, but oh well. Nagisa snatched a water gun from Nitori's hand, squirting him right in the face. Sometimes he just had to have fun on his own.

"Ack!" Nitori wiped his face, and he would have glared but fear struck him as Nagisa held the gun up at him again. "What are you…?"

Nagisa giggled, nodding off to Momo, as he exclaimed, "Go dance with your kouhai, Ai-chan!"

Oh, for goodness' sake.

Now, it wasn't as if Nitori actually joined Momo in dancing, but rather started running around him, shooting water at Nagisa as Nagisa shot water at him. People would cheer for every time Nagisa successfully shot Nitori in the butt, making him yelp. Perhaps this was why the "lovely assistant" wore a swimsuit as well, they figured, never questioning the addition of a third person to the show.

Momo stood in the center of the two, reaching for the sky as he yelled, "Yesss! Yesss!"

He was so far gone in the music.

And even though Nitori never got to throwing bread at Momo's chest, people still gave money to this act. At this point, Nitori stopped questioning why.

"People will give you money for anything," Nagisa chimed, sitting on the sidewalk curb just outside the ice cream parlor. "But what do you need money for anyway, Ai-chan?"

"I told you," Nitori panted, "for a… project."

Nitori leaned his soaked head on some loaves of bread still left over (twelve) as he lied down on the sidewalk, panting from what seemed to be the never-ending chase by Nagisa Hazuki. And damn Momo for not even bothering to help him as he ran in circles, nowhere to go because the audience encircled them, trapping Nitori in a cage of stupidity. Nitori unzipped his hoodie to air-dry his skin, his chest expanding with each deep breath he took to calm down. He clutched his chest, a bit too out of breath.

Meanwhile, Momo wiped off the peanut butter from his chest with his fingers, which he licked clean. A job well done, he felt. The sun began to set ahead of them, slipping into the oceanic horizon. Four hours of dancing had to turn up some profits, and sure, there was that one scuffle with a policeman who asked if they had a street performance license, which they did not, but it all turned out for the better because Nitori-senpai managed to hide all of the money before he said they were high school students doing a social experiment for class. And so they were let off the hook. That senpai of Momo's, the greatest alibi expert he could ever ask for.

"Where'd you put the money, Nitori-senpai?"

In one of the bread loaves, of course.

He hid a total of 8,740 yen in bread.

"What kind of project needs you to make this much money?" Nagisa arched a brow. No school project ever requires you to make this much money—not by dancing on the streets, that is. That's what fundraisers were for. So, this was obviously a personal project, which prompted Nagisa's next question, "Are you guys doing something bad?"

Unsure of whether to trust Nagisa—he was a student at a different school, but he was also friends with Rin and generally mischievous—Nitori and Momo hesitated in revealing anything to the perky daredevil.

"If it's a something secret, I'll promise to keep it," he whispered. "Come on, I want to know!"

"What do you think, Nitori-senpai?" Momo asked. He didn't really know who this blonde kid was, just knew that Nitori and Rin both knew him apparently. Yet, by the looks of his senpai furiously shaking his head no as he lied on the sidewalk, Momo took caution with their school's competition and said, "Samezuka knowledge only!"

"Aww, don't be like that…" Nagisa pouted. "I bet I could help…"

Why the universe allowed two crazy idealists to meet, Nitori will never know, but it happened. And if there was any way to get on Momo's good side, it was telling him you just wanted to help, to be his aide, to get his dreams rolling off the ground into reality—because this kid thrived on positivity and good feedback, which is why he felt the need to compliment and encourage everyone he knew. In some respect, Nitori admired this trait about Momo, a constant propeller of spreading good thoughts.

But not if that meant teaming up with Nagisa Hazuki.

Who would exploit those good thoughts.

Dear god, Momo, no!

"Really?" Momo brightened up. "Well, okay, if you think you can, that'd be cool—so anyway, Nitori-senpai and I are saving up money to buy origami paper—"

"Uh-huh," Nagisa beamed, excited to hear the plan.

"—and we're going to make paper cranes, all sorts of them, like a shitload of them—no seriously," Momo spread his hands in front of him, "I'm talking thousands of them, like you could start farming origami paper cranes and watch them grow—"

"Uh-huh?" Nagisa didn't quite understand that last part, but okay.

"—and we're gonna take those cranes and put them in the pool, a whole layer of cranes on the pool! It'll be beautiful!" And then Momo got stern as he said, "But no one can find out."

"I see." Nagisa hummed. "Are you going to decorate the rest of the pool gym?"

Nitori slapped his forehead, because of course the plan would expand in Nagisa's hands.

"What do you mean?" Momo asked.

"Maybe you can hang lights and lanterns, and flowers and branches!" Nagisa gasped, "Oh, let me help! I bet if I ask Rei-chan, he can figure out how much we'll need. This could be really beautiful, err… what was your name?"

Momo stretched out his hand, "Mikoshiba Momotarou!"

To which Nagisa shook and said, "Hazuki Nagisa!"

As Nitori laid there on the sidewalk, overhearing the two outline the plan of action, he sighed. This project had become too big. They were going to be in so much trouble, and for what? A pretty sight? Maybe a photo's worth of beauty?

"Ai-chan," Nagisa tapped Nitori's head. "Text me when you two are going to do this and I'll bring the rest of the supplies, no charge!"

Nitori sighed.

"Okay…"

He was in too deep.