PART SEVEN

"Misa-chan! Misa-chan! Hey, Misa-chan, watch out—!"

But it was too late. Suddenly, Misaki lurched forward, her special tray falling from her grasp like a petal in the wind. She stumbled and attempted to regain her balance, her hand twisting in a futile attempt to catch herself, but it was useless. A mere second later, the parfait she'd been carrying had landed right on top of Shizuo's head, the silky whipped cream and fresh vanilla ice cream sliding down his face like a landslide. His eyebrow twitched visibly, the hammer in his hand suddenly feeling perfect for throwing, but with a sort of stubborn countenance he was unknown for, he took a deep breath and continued working, melting ice cream and all.

"Ah! I'm so terribly sorry!" she said, her eyes darting around the room for something to wipe his head with. A napkin was sitting only millimeters away. "Here!" she cried, handing it to him, to which he gratefully accepted. "I-I don't know what's gotten into me…"

Murmuring spread around the café, patrons surprised that Misa-chan—the respected, independent Misa-chan—had been so empty-headed. Misaki felt her cheeks heat up and, in a last minute resort, quickly walked—not ran, she had definitely NOT RAN—back to the kitchen, the mess completely forgotten in her attempts to get away.

Once the door closed, she slid down to her knees.

Damn it… she cursed, hands clasped angrily in her dress, her breathing sporadic and labored. What was wrong with her? It'd been nearly a day since she'd met Orihara, a day since she realized that maybe her cousin wasn't all he appeared to be. She should've been over it, she knew, but… It was so damn hard! Every day, when she saw that shaggy mop of blonde hair, when she heard that slightly gruff voice, when she saw those surprisingly kind eyes… She couldn't take it. She knew that she shouldn't take Orihara's words so seriously, but it was hard. Hard thinking—perhaps knowing?—that Shizuo was exactly like her father, the very man she hated; hard to think that Shizuo might steal their money and hurt her mother even more; hard to think that maybe—and she meant very slightly—it was possible that Orihara was actually the good guy, not the crazy man he made himself out to be; hard to feel, hour after hour, day after day, the weight of Izaya's business card in her pocket, the feeling of what it could do so terribly prevalent in her mind. Everything was just so damned hard.

If things continued like this, she didn't know what she'd do.

"Misa-chan?" Quickly, as to avoid causing suspicion, she stood up and brushed some dust off her uniform, her face quickly masked in a bright, cheery smile. She would not worry them. She couldn't. After everything these people have done for her—Usui… the Manager… her friends at school… even the maids at Maid Latte—she couldn't bear to see any of them hurt. With renewed strength, she turned around and gave a smile to her Manager.

"Ah, Manager!" She was smiling so much her cheeks hurt. "I was just… getting some napkins! Yeah! N-No worries!" Damn it, she was stuttering, but she couldn't help it. Her nerves were just fried, like two old copper wires that had crossed paths more than once, and she didn't like it.

She didn't like it one bit.

"…Misa-chan? Is everything okay?" Satsuki had her head tilted in confusion, her bright amethyst eyes wide with worry. "It's unlike you to be so empty-headed…" The Manager pointed behind herself, a little smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "And besides, the napkins are on the other side of the kitchen."

Misaki felt herself flush and, in a last ditch resort, attempted to cough as if she knew this all along. "Y-yeah, of course! I was just, uh… testing you! Yeah! Aha." Suddenly, the stove in the far corner of the room seemed extraordinarily interesting, as Misaki's gaze remained glued there.

Satsuki still had that worried look on her face, but after a moment, she sighed and decided to drop the subject. Misaki would tell her when she was good and ready. She would just have to trust that Misaki wasn't getting in over her head.

Giving Misaki a small smile, she said, "I understand. But just remember, Misaki, that I'm always here—no, that Maid Latte's always here for you. We'll support you in any decisions you make, but please, don't be afraid to talk to us." She giggled. "I mean, it's no good if you're worrying by yourself, right?"

Misaki felt her smile freeze on her face, but luckily, her Manager didn't seem to notice. "Of course, Manager. If something comes up, I'll let you know."

All the while, the business card weighed heavier in her pocket.

XXX

"Hey! Get back here!"

"Yeah, come back and fight us like a man!"

A cacophony of angry voices, their own singularities increasing into one, seemed to become louder as the seconds ticked by. They were gaining, faster and faster, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Giving a quick glance back, two subdued blue eyes widened in surprise, his mouth uttering inaudible curses as his feet slapped against the pavement. In a last ditch effort, he grabbed his school bag and threw it to the ground, its materials of pens and pencils and notebooks flying everywhere, and unimpeded, he took a sharp left at an alleyway.

No luck. The alley was blocked off by a towering metal fence; the only possible way to get over it was by a rusty dumpster that had definitely seen better days. Giving a fearful glance back at his pursuers, he took one last look at the dumpster before he sighed dramatically and ran towards it. The metal creaked under his weight, the dumpster moving with very little provocation, but at last, he'd made it on top and was finally able to grasp the fence. Linking his hands in the rusted metal crevices, he began a tedious climb to the top.

Rounding the corner, a group of men—six of them to be exact, all wearing bright yellow scarves—shouted something he didn't quite catch, before they charged like enraged elephants on the savanna. Unlike the pursued, they had no problem getting on the dumpster and were already catching up, their hands only precious centimeters away from his foot. With a valiant cry, he lifted himself up and jumped over the fence, just barely catching himself as he tumbled gracelessly near the hard, concrete ground. Giving one last fearful glance back, he ran like the devil was after him, his lungs burning with the need for oxygen.

Hearing the unmistakable thumps in the concrete, he could just imagine them right behind him, their teeth bared like rabid dogs hunting for meat…

Mikado shook his head of such thoughts. Why did all of this stuff have to happen to him?! Just because he was hoping for an interesting life didn't mean that he wanted to be attacked on the street!

He looked back, chest heaving, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he was going to lose. He couldn't keep running like this; he couldn't keep up and he knew, like a dying man in the desert, that those people—no, those vultures—would get him before he could even blink. He, the leader of the Dollars, was going to die because of a couple of street thugs.

He was going to die and then—

But that was the only thing he thought before a hand reached out and grabbed him from an alleyway.

XXX

-Kanra has entered the chat room-

Kanra: Hellllllooooooooo? Anybody there?

-Setton has entered the chat room-

Setton: Afternoon. It's strange seeing you on at this time of the day.

Kanra: Oh, Setton-kun! I almost thought you'd forgotten about me! :) Have you heard from Taro-chan recently?

Setton: …..

Setton: He hasn't been on here. Here, give me a minute…

-Setton has private messaged you-

Setton: Orihara, you know something. Spit it out.

Kanra: ….

Kanra: You're so forceful, Celty-san! I simply wish to pay our poor Mikado-kun a visit!

Setton: That's hardly ever it Orihara and you know it. Now spit it out. What happened—no, I'm sorry—what's going to happen to Mikado? Is this about the surge of gang violence that I've heard recently on the news?

Kanra: ….Hmm….

Kanra: May-be :)

Kanra: Who knows, really? It COULD, but then again, it could not. Have you ever thought that maybe I'm simply worried?

Setton: Cut the crap. We both know that you have a fairly good idea of what's going to happen to Ikebukuro in a few days. I feel like this increase in gang violence is just the tip of the iceberg… I've got a bad feeling and I know you have something to do with it, Orihara. So tell me: where is Mikado?

Kanra: ….

Setton: Well?

-Kanra has left private chat-

Kanra: If you're really that worried, you'll find your answers by that old Yellow Scarves hideout. You know the one. Bye~!

-Kanra has logged out of the chatroom-

-Setton has logged out the chatroom-

XXX

"Currently, there are no leads as to what happened last night to young Hanajima Ryuji. Possible sources have indicated a surge in gang violence, but they have yet to be confirmed. Some rumors have even indicated the Slasher, though these are speculated at best. This surge of violence in Ikebukuro is not uncommon, but it is unsettling, especially with the threat of an all-out gang war hanging heavily in the air…"

The woman's voice droned on and on, her cropped black hair blowing messily in the wind. Behind her were bustling skylines, hordes of people going on their merry ways; but what really stood out was the bright outline of chalk against the tattered pavement. People seemed to go out of their way to avoid it, the thought that more terrible color gang violence was just around the corner almost too unbearable. However, they're only human; there were, of course, those of despicable human nature who, instead of viewing the scene with respect and distance, got as close as the police tape would permit before smiling wide and posing for a picture. Some of the truly degenerate ones would contort their face as though screaming; much like the one would during their final moments of life, and then laugh it off as though a boy had not just been killed right in their bustling city.

The young man's parents stood by idly, their clothes dark and extraordinarily similar to the weeds worn in Victorian times, a woman crying, burying her face into her husband's chest, his own down in a small, solemn bow. The reporter gave a sad smile towards the scene, though the emotion didn't meet her eyes. "As you can see," she said, using the parents' tears as a platform for her story, "many are deeply hurt by these turn of events. However impossible it may be to shed some light on this subject at this time, the police department has assured everyone that they are carefully and vigorously working on finding the culprits responsible for such a despicable crime—"

Click.

Two bored eyes glared at the screen as a bright animated world full of geniuses and magical elementary school students danced to some incredibly catchy girls' pop song. Saburo Togusa felt his eyebrow twitch in annoyance as Erika Karisawa and Walker Yumasaki turned on their latest addiction, Gakuen Alice. Really, it was so incredibly predictable. Girl goes to new school, girl meets incredibly powerful but tormented boy, girl finds out that she also has a power (or an "Alice", as Saburo had heard repeatedly mentioned more than once), girl and tormented boy fall in love and have happily ever after. The end.

He didn't really understand what was so interesting about a story like that. It was completely unrealistic. Life doesn't always guarantee a happy ending, and if it did, it would be so terribly boring that way. What would be way more interesting is if some lunatic director made a show about him and all the crazy shit he had to deal with. Hell, he could even do one about Ikebukuro and all the crazy, scary, completely unbelievable that happened, or were even rumored.

He sighed; as if that would ever happen.

A little put out, he said, "Do you guys always have to watch these things? They're so terribly… predictable."

Erika and Walker's eyes were glued to the screen. Without removing her eyes, Erika put her hand up, and said in a very serious tone, "Do you hear that, Yumacchi? Togusa thinks Gakuen Alice is like any other anime."

Walker snorted. "Mikan is way more loveable than a lot of those other heroines. I mean, just think of Ichigo-chan. She's terrible."

"Mhmm… Not only that, but the plot is way better than Yumeiro Patissiere." The show stopped abruptly, and a shiny commercial came on the air advertising the newest brand of toilet paper that, apparently, everyone was using. It was like a spell had been broken, a dream had been shattered. Erika and Walker tore their eyes away from the screen, the magic gone, and regarded Saburo with an too serious expressions. "Besides," Erika continued, pushing her mahogany hair messily underneath her hat, "I needed something a little lighter after watching Mirai Nikki. That show was… Ugh, but then Yuno-chan was one of the best yanderes ever…"

"I hear ya." Walker had that all too familiar sparkle in his eye. "Togusa-san just doesn't know what he's missing."

"I hear ya on that one. Reality's such a boring place, isn't it?" And with that, the show came on again and much like a moth to a flame, their eyes became glued to the scenes in front of them. Saburo sighed and, stretching his arms over his head, walked out of the room, towards the bar that Kadota had just recently installed. Sitting down at one of the stools lined against the counter, he grabbed the nearest bottle of liquor—Bacardi, or something of the like—and poured a small glass to ease his throbbing head.

It was nice really; besides the fact that he couldn't watch any television because two certain Otakus were always hogging it, and the fact that they sometimes ran out of liquor, it was great. Kadota had done a really great job with the place; one of the very few hangouts for the Dollars. Saburo snorted—probably the only one. Now all they needed to do was get more members—

"You know drinking will lead you to an early grave, right?"

Saburo raised an eyebrow and, a little smugly, chugged the rest of his drink, a pleasant burning sensation growing deep in his chest. "Hic—Hell, I'm f-fine. You ain't gotta worry about liquor. It's like piss." He reached for the bottle of vodka again, but his friend, the every resourceful Kyohei Kadota ("Dotachin" for short), grabbed it and held it out of arms reach.

Smiling, he grabbed the cap and gently placed it on the bottle. "You can continue this later. Right now, we have some important business to attend to."

Saburo narrowed his eyes. "What sort of 'business?'" He didn't like the way that sounded. It almost sounded like… "You sound like you did when we were in Blue Square and had to go on some little mission. So what is it? What's the matter?"

Kadota looked down at him and chuckled a little, before he turned and grabbed his hat off the opposing countertop. He began rustling a few papers, his eyes not once meeting Saburo's. "Nothing's really 'the matter.' I just have a bad feeling is all and with Shizuo out of town… Not to mention, Orihara—"

"Wait, wait, wait. Did you say Orihara? As in Orihara Izaya? What the hell is he doing outside of Ikebukuro? I thought he didn't leave because of his 'great love for humanity.'" He sighed. "And then Heiwajima's gone, too… You don't think…"

Kadota stilled, but he still refused to meet Saburo's eyes. "I honestly don't know what to think. But this," a note was shoved unceremoniously into his face, and Saburo found himself blinking in confusion, "seems pretty clear. Part of me hopes it's a joke, albeit cruel, but my gut's telling me it isn't. If it isn't," Kadota's face seemed to darken, his eyes finally meeting Saburo's own, "if it isn't, well, we'll have a big issue on our hands. I'm talking huge."

Tearing the note away from his grasp, Saburo instantly felt his face pale and his insides turn into mush. "T-this is…"

Kadota nodded. "You got it. Somehow, someway, Blue Square is back. They're the only ones who could accomplish this."

"That's…! That's impossible!" Saburo stood up incredibly fast, momentum carrying the chair to the side, his face mere inches from Kadota's own. "We don't even know who our leader is! How the hell did they find out when it's one of the biggest secrets of the Dollars?!" His face was nearly red now, his eyes alive, vivid. He looked like a man who had seen the Valley of Death and never wanted to return. "Kadota…"

Kadota gave a small smile, though it was far from reassuring. "I don't know. But I know someone that can tell us."

"You don't mean…"

"Yes." Kadota put his hat on, his bangs hanging heavily over his eyes. "We're going to have to find Orihara Izaya. Because if we don't, the Dollars will be annihilated once and for all."

XXX

On the other side of Japan, a certain blond-haired bartender paused amidst his bustling work of repairing the café he'd oh-so-delicately destroyed nearly two days ago. Crinkling his brow, his cigarette fell out of his mouth as a bad, almost foreboding, feeling seemed to twist and contort his insides in uncertainty. Shaking his head, he went back to his work, but because he was so uncomfortable, he wasn't watching what he was doing. One demonic growl and a bruised thumb destroyed the entire wall he'd been working on for all of a day. The wood fell in splinters, the nails shattered beyond repair—cursing, he kicked the little piece that decided to stay up, almost like it was mocking him, and grinned sadistically as it was disintegrated into dust.

Suddenly, he paled and glanced nervously around the café, remembering quite suddenly where he was. Maid Café, his cousin Misaki, dangerous demonic energy… shaking his head, he nearly sighed in relief when he realized that only people that had seen his little outburst was a kind older gentlemen who could barely see his hand in front of his face and a young mother quietly soothing her sobbing baby, her back turned. Sighing in relief that no one had seen him, he almost jumped as a lithe hand tapped on his shoulder.

Spinning around, he expected to see the seething visage of his cousin (demon horns and all), but instead, he was met with the Manager. She paled a little at the wreckage, her eyes darting the other end of the café, before she took a shaky breath and fiercely looked up at Shizuo.

"Ah, uh Heiwajima-san…" She nervously balled her hands in her apron, her eyes looking everywhere but his, before she gave him a nervous smile. "Heiwajima-san, I have a… request, so to speak, and I feel as though you're the only one who can accomplish it."

Now his interest was piqued. "W-what is it? Is there somethin' the matter?"

Satsuki shivered a little but smiled nonetheless. "It's nothing too terribly pressing, but… I'm worried about Misa-chan. Today, when she dropped her tray—it was unusual. Misa-chan is so headstrong, so steadfast that she rarely, if ever, makes a mistake like that. I'm worried that something's bothering her, but she won't tell me, and I'm afraid that she's trying to fight it all by herself." Satsuki's demeanor shifted a little; like a young mother thinking about her courageous young child, too young to face the world alone, but too headstrong to be bullied by it. "If it isn't too much trouble, could you perhaps keep an eye on her? Misa-chan is strong, no doubt, and fearless, too. But… she's only human. She still needs someone to look out for her every once and a while, okay?" Satsuki's smile was large, but it was soft, tender. She really did look like a mother worrying about her children. "Just… make sure she doesn't dig some hole she can't escape from, okay?"

Shizuo could only nod, too flabbergasted to say anymore. At this, Satsuki smiled brilliantly, as bright as a thousand watt light bulb, and patted Shizuo's shoulder like she was his own mother. "Thank you, Heiwajima-san. You don't know how much it means to me." Like a burden had been lifted, she turned around, head held high and chest puffed out like a proud peacock, eager to close the café for the night. Shizuo watched her go and go and—

She paused. Then, turning to face Shizuo, she said brightly, "The wall is looking great, Shizuo-kun! I'm sure if you keep this up, the café will be even better than it was before!" And airily, like a fairy, she bounded away, laughing a sweet, soft laugh. Shizuo stared after her retreating figure till it disappeared entirely and then, glancing down at his pathetic mess of a wall, sighed and went back to work.

Unbeknownst to anyone, however, was the raging blush that enveloped his features in its fiery wake.

XXX

Finally, FINALLY, work was done. Satsuki, after Misaki's slipup in the dining room, had decided that perhaps the maids were a tad overworked. Smiling brightly, she had given everyone an early afternoon, assuring them that she could handle the few customers still milling about and would call if anything troublesome emerged. Misaki felt embarrassed and offered to stay to make it up, but the Manager would have none of it. She'd simply told Misaki that she and all the other maids had deserved whatever they got and that there'd be no changing of her mind.

So now, Misaki was waiting outside, tattered school bag thrown over her shoulder, her own battered military coat and fiercely unladylike scowl keeping away anybody who would try to talk to her. Awkwardly, she shifted her weight from foot to foot, her thoughts racing.

This is stupid, she thought, subconsciously feeling like some annoying insect, though she wasn't sure why. She just… she needed to do something, anything, to relieve her stress and try to think rationally about everything that had happened. Even if it was physical labor, she didn't care. Hell, she was wound so tightly that she could run home in the dusk night dew, and hardly even break a sweat. In all actuality, she probably would have, had it not been for one factor.

Usui.

So, here she was, standing in less than comfortable temperatures, her thoughts racing, racing like some steroid ridden horse at a track. She bounced from foot to foot, did some squats, went over some basic Aikido moves in place, but nothing seemed to help pass the time any faster. What was taking Usui so long anyway? Had he not heard about the generous early out the Manager had so graciously given?

Another five minutes passed and finally, Misaki had reached her limit. Giving an annoyed huff, she turned to leave, when a surprisingly strong hand grabbed her shoulder.

"Kaichou," his voice was lecherous. But Goddamnit, it made her skin feel feverish with an unwelcome heat. Taking a deep, drawn out breath, she tried to ignore the fluttering of her heart pounding wildly in her ribcage.

"Yes?" Hoping her face didn't look as hot as it felt, she shrugged his hand off her shoulder. "Get your hands off me, you perverted space alien."

Usui chuckled quietly and instead of honoring her wishes, he grabbed Misaki's shoulders and pulled her close, his hot breath settled intimately in her ear. "Why? Is it bad that I'm so happy that you waited for me? Hmm?" His breath ghosted against her nose and she was sure that even if the other parts of her body was alive with fire, her nose was sporting gooseflesh.

She shook her head, attempting to take control of the situation. "Idiot," she spat, though it was lacking the usual venom that accompanied it. "Why would you be happy about something as stupid as that?"

Usui chuckled and, reluctantly, pulled away. Misaki cursed herself for missing his heat. "Because Kaichou is Kaichou." And just like that, the sultry Usui Takumi from moments ago had receded into his mocking, possessive self, leaving Misaki grappling with her emotions like she always did. Sighing, she turned away, not even offering some biting retort that usually accompanied his flirting. That was odd, Usui decided. So terribly and utterly odd.

"Oi, Misa-chan~" he called out, expecting to be rebuked for using her maid name in public, but no such luck. Growing increasingly worried, he said, "Misaki?"

"Huh?" she said, like she'd been in a trance. She was acting like she was in some sort of trance and Usui vaguely wondered if she simply had a lot on her mind or if it was something more.

Growing increasingly worried by the second, he said, "Is something the matter? You don't seem like yourself Kaichou."

"I, uh…" She looked everywhere but his eyes, which made him even more apprehensive. She was never one to avoid him like this. She always stared straight ahead, no qualms, no worries; her bluntness getting her into many more problems than it was worth. "I'm fine, Usui. There's just… a lot on my mind."

"Oh? Like the fact that the only reason you're cousin might be here is to steal your money?" Her silence confirmed it. Finally her eyes met his, but they were a far cry from the fiery rage that resided there so many times before. They were shocked, flabbergasted, and—Usui felt his heart constrict painfully at the sight—full of fear. Sadness, too, if the tears gathered at the corners of her eyes had anything to do with it. Feeling a wave of protectiveness rush his chest, he leaned forward and caught the first tear that fell.

"K-Kaichou…" She flinched from his finger and pulled away, the inches between them seeming to spread out like miles. Unused to this response, he leaned forward and did the only thing he could think of.

He hugged her.

"Misaki…," his voice was low, impossibly so, his head nestled against her shaking throat, his nose pressed against her shoulder and, damn, she smelled so good. "I'm worried. You're never usually like this and it's… unsettling." When he felt more of the salty drops land on his face, he cupped her chin and titled her head up, his green eyes reflecting the very tattered appearance of the once unshakable demon president of Seika High. Her own eyes found his and held them there, like some wicked sorceress had cast a spell and entranced, Usui leaned closer and closer until…

Suddenly, their lips met, and Misaki gave a muffled shout of surprise. That, however, quickly dispersed into a tiny whimper that, once produced, had the effect of turning Misaki into a bright, budding tomato. Instead of pulling away, however, she continued to kiss him. And when a tongue gently demanded entrance, she willingly, but very microscopically, opened her mouth, the feeling of the foreign object invading her mouth making her heady, almost breathless. Very unwillingly, she pulled away first, a small string of saliva the only connection between their lips before the entire moment was lost.

Somewhere along the line, though, she'd stopped crying. A little surprised, she gently touched her lips before a bright, scarlet blush exploded all up her neck, and she jumped away, embarrassed. Rubbing her lips vigorously, she nearly shouted, "Are you CRAZY? What are you doing, kissing me out of the blue like that? At least… at least warn me when you're going to do that! Ah! Stupid Usui!"

Usui smiled—a genuine one, not one of his smirks that Misaki was so used to seeing—and said, "Well, it made you stop crying, so it couldn't have been all that bad." But when Usui saw a pained look cross her face, his mirth died like a kamikaze sacrificed to battle. Opening his mouth, he was about to say something, when—

"You already know, right?" Misaki asked, her eyes staring searchingly into his own. "That my cousin might be…" She sucked in a deep breath and for a moment, he was sure she wouldn't continue. But, surprisingly, she said, "It's… possible that my cousin might steal whatever's left of our family's money. It's possible that he might be exactly like my father, the damned bastard, and that there may not be anything that I can do about it. But worst of all…" Now she was staring at him with a sort of fiery determination, anger so bright it burned a hole in his memory. Clutching her head, she gave a pathetic, hopeless laugh, though that didn't diminish the fire in her eyes. "The worst of all is that I might be played a second time. And Usui… I can't. I won't. If this happens again, I don't know what I'll do. At the very least, I'll hunt down him and my father and make them pay. I don't care how, I don't care about the details. I just want them to suffer and… and… I just don't want my mom to suffer again. I don't think she'd be able to take it."

Usui wanted to point out that perhaps it was the other way around, but decided against it, and instead said, "Then don't."

As if she hadn't heard him right, Misaki said dumbly, "Huh?"

Sighing, Usui drew a hand to his face before he smiled at her confusion. Even when she was freaking out, his Misa-chan was just so cute. "Just don't do it. Stop your cousin before he can even hurt your family. I mean, how hard can it be?"

"Usui…"

At her hesitation, he chuckled. "Honestly, Kaichou, I thought you would've thought of it yourself. Just stop your cousin before he does anything bad. Isn't that what the 'demonic president' of Seika High would do?" As if he'd struck a chord, her eyes widened a fraction of an inch before she stared right at him, understanding dawning on her features. He… was right. Why was she here, being so worried about the 'what ifs?' and 'maybes' that were dominating her life? Damn it, when had she become a pushover? Misaki may be many things, but weak?

She was definitely not weak.

Slowly, all the nervous energy that had been gathered in the pits of her stomach seemed to ease and relax, her body finally feeling at peace in what felt like eternity. Right. She'd almost forgotten. Ayuzawa Misaki was not weak.

Turning around abruptly, she refused to give him the satisfaction. Refused. She was not smiling at what he had said, no way in hell! She was simply… yes, thinking of a perfect plan for revenge against all those who wronged—or would wrong, as the case might be—the Ayuzawa family. She swore—as the fierce President of Seika High, as Misa-chan the maid, but most importantly, as Ayuzawa Misaki, oldest daughter of the Ayuzawa house—that she would uncover the mystery behind Shizuo's real reasons for visiting and if they didn't agree, she'd make him pay.

That was all there was to it.

"Kaichou?"

Chuckling, Misaki felt her smile widen to incredible proportions, though her pride forbade her from turning around and actually confronting the culprit. "I'm fine, Usui. You're… right. I don't know when I started losing faith in myself, but you made me see what I had to do. And for that…" Now she was blushing and suddenly broke out into a run.

But not before uttering a soft, "Thank you."

XXX

Hey there guys! So I bet you were thinking that I'd disappeared off the face of the earth…

Well! For all intensive purposes, I did! (she says because she really is just lazy and has a muse that likes to take long-ass vacations). But not to fear! I'm updating, I'm writing, and I'm winning! All's well that ends well :)

BTW, I finally have a beta-reader! You can thank Rhette for her ability to make me write and overseeing my writing! I can't wait to work with her! If you're interested, you should check out her profile too. She writes a lot of Durarara! fics, so if you happen to love Durarara like I do…

;)

Well, that's all for now! Thank you for your kind reviews and alerts and favorites that you've so lovingly bestowed on this story. As the author, I give you a warm and grandiose welcome.

And as always, please review!