Hotaru was dreaming.

It was nice, this dream. She was wearing a yellow, floaty dress, the color of spun silk or the heart of a peach, and her arms and neck were adorned with blue gems. Sapphires, maybe? Hotaru looked down and found she was standing in a stream. Surrounding her, the stream ran alongside blank white banks, and went on indefinitely as far as she could see.

Hotaru wondered if she was alone, and decided not to find out. She dipped her fingers into the water.

"Having fun, little sister?"

Hotaru whipped around so quickly that she almost felt dizzy. Curiously, the water remained placid, running its course calmly as if no interruption had just occurred. There he was — her brother. The person she'd been worked hard at chasing every moment she could remember being alive. Then, after his disappearance — the person she'd been working so hard to find.

Subaru Imai looked fine. Actually, he looked better than fine. He looked healthy, and happy, and at the moment, slightly amused. "What are you wearing, Hotaru?"

She looked down and gasped. She was naked.

"What are you wearing, Hotaru?"

Hotaru blinked, re-orienting herself. She was in bed, and on the phone, Mikan's breaths were eager, expectant. She had no idea what her best friend was talking about. "Black."

"Oh, but you always wear black. What about something nice. Something yellow?"

This was getting to be some strange coincidence. "Remind me the occasion?"

To her credit, Mikan didn't blink. "My dinner party."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"I—"

"You told me you were free," Mikan said pleasantly.

"When?"

"Well, I called, and you picked up, and I asked if you were free, and you said yep, and I said then I'll have a dinner party, Hotaru, and you said sure, and then I asked what you were wearing." Then Mikan sweetened her tone even more. "And, Hotaru, I'd really like for you to make it. It's been so long since I've seen you after all..."

She didn't stand a chance. "Fine," Hotaru sighed. "I'll wear pink."

"Now, there's no need to be sarcastic."

"I had a dream about my brother."

Mikan's soft little exclamation came as expected. "Is he doing well?"

"Too well." Hotaru paused. Something was nagging at her, she'd missed something.

What was it?

Oh.

Hotaru had made a grave mistake.

"Who's going to your dinner party?" she demanded, a little sulky about the fact that her instincts had taken so long to kick in. Mikan's 'dinner parties' that Hotaru were dragged to were either too big — Mikan made sure to invite classmates that Hotaru would know, never mind that they were elementary school classmates that barely knew each others' names — or too small — Mikan had on several occasions in the past tried to set Hotaru up with a prospective partner by inviting both to a dinner party and unsubtly leaving the room for an "emergency" a few minutes later. Neither of those two scenarios was sounding too appealing to Hotaru.

"Well, you," Mikan hedged.

"Mikan."

"Okay, okay, well it's just you, and Natsume, and... Natsume's friend."

"I'm not going."

"Hotaru!" Mikan spoke rapidly for fear of being hung up on. "We won't see them much, only at dinner. This is not a set-up, Natsume just said it was unfair if I got to bring a friend and he didn't."

Hotaru would bet that Hyuuga had expressed that sentiment in a much less diplomatic way. But she supposed she could give in a little, given her outburst over the phone. "Fine. Whatever. As long as we won't see them much." She really sounded surly now, like someone's rich crabby grand aunt.

"They'll barely be there," Mikan soothed. "We won't even see them."

She didn't know why she was upset.

Screw that, she did know why she was upset.

"So, Imai, Ruka is a vet."

"I don't know why that's relevant to me."

They were sitting in Mikan's living room — Hotaru, Hyuuga, and this character, this "Ruka Nogi". Mikan, bustling around in the kitchen, could be heard mumbling to herself as well as occasionally dropping a spoon.

How did they get here? Hotaru had just been seated by an uncharacteristically charismatic Hyuuga (charismatic was the wrong word to use, even occasionally, he was too cunning) when he turned to Mikan. "Honey, I think there's something wrong with the stew."

The stew.

The goddamn stew. Had she been less blinded by fury she would have made a snide remark about his endearment, like "'Honey'? I guess Narumi is rubbing off of you." Hotaru sent him a hateful glare. The motherfucking stew. Even she knew about The Stew and its love/hate relationship with Mikan, who had yet to perfect the simple technique and perversely, was obsessed with mastering it.

The stew would absorb her attention for the rest of the night. Goodbye, Hotaru. Goodbye, girl's night. Hello, evil thing that is the smirking face of Hyuuga.

"So I have someone I want you to meet," it had continued.

"Not interested."

"Too bad. My house, my rules."

"You're really softening, Hyuuga. As it is, I couldn't give less of a shit about you, but this is concerning."

"I'll keep it in mind. You stay here." Then he had proceeded to bring out, with a care she thought he'd only reserve for her stupid best friend and small children, a boy with golden hair, the same kind of luxurious material she'd seen in her dreams. This "Ruka".

He had been sitting across from her ever since, a good ten minutes now, and she still didn't know what color his eyes were because he kept his head down. He looked like a sick animal.

"It's relevant," Hyuuga continued, "because —"

"Are you two lovers?"

The blonde haired man raised his head at her statement and Hotaru internally recoiled. His eyes were the darkest blue she'd ever seen.

"Because," Hyuuga sighed. "From now on, you'll be working together."