A/N1: Not mine.


Yasutake Shin considered himself a successful business man. He did not particularly care about whether he was a good man until he found himself in the hospital being monitored for arrhythmia. He had tried to live his life without breaking any laws, but there were many ways to indulge oneself legally, and the abrupt end of another sybaritic holiday had him suffering the results of that self-indulgence. He had been probed and poked for three days now, but finally his assistant was allowed to deliver his business correspondence.

"My nephew's latest business proposal is a restaurant? That has a lower chance of breaking even than his last one; I've seen him burn water. Turn him down again."

"Hire Ro-Kan over Yoko Construction; they may not be low bid, but they have a better chance of coming in before deadline."

"The ad campaign presented by our new investment looks good. Give it the go-ahead to roll out; no need to wait for me to be 100%."

"Ah, Yasutake-sama, there is one thing more." He handed him a letter.

"Another charity request?" He tossed it back. "Send it through the usual channels."

"But sir, pardon me, this is in regard to the school which your great-grandparents founded in the Lake Akan region."

He looked up, eyes keen. "The private academy run by the Sisters of Plenitude?" He scanned the letter, reading it twice. "At this rate, enrollment will be too low within five years for it to remain open." One fist pounded the blankets. "Get hold of Hagiwara and have him run the numbers for a scholarship program. Hii-ojiisan's legacy will not fail during my watch."


Two days later, as he walked the halls of the hospital with his attendant, he overheard half of a conversation between some nurses. "What a shame! The poor man…the child so young."

"Fujimoto," he jerked his head towards the group, "attend and report to me. I can make my own way back to the room."


With his recent confrontation with mortality, Yasutake felt a pressing need to help in the situation which had apparently landed in his lap.

Send the child to Hame-Bo Academy? No, better yet! The widowed father has a small business (coincidentally, a restaurant) which would be bound to go under in the struggle to pay the hospital. Now, my nephew has no culinary ability, but, according to reports, this man is a genius. I will offer an influx of cash which will allow him to become debt-free, and he can buy me out later at a token interest.

The child must have the very best! Not the just-barely-above-minimum of the regular scholarship. All of her books and uniforms will be covered, plus a little pocket money for incidentals. As well, I shall secure her future. Hmm, he tapped his bottom lip, how? His eyes lit upon the stack of paperwork. My investment manager will be tasked to train her with her growing trust fund. And these shares–perfect for a child–will provide the seed money for her to invest and multiply. He chuckled to himself. This should earn me some brownie points with Lord Buddha.

And so it took place as he had so carefully planned; but, as with many people, it did not stay in his mind forever, and only the annual thank-you letter the child duly sent reminded him of it. That did not negate the good which he had done. Young Aihara Kotoko flourished in his ancestor's school, which took full advantage of the fresh foothill air and provided frequent excursions to both the mountains and plains for healthy physical activity. Her fortnightly lessons on managing the money which would be completely available to her at the age of twenty-five sharpened her business acumen, and the spiritual guidance of the sisters taught her that delayed gratification provides the sweetest reward.

So it was when, after Aihara Shigeo had paid off the loan from the anonymous benefactor, he was presented the opportunity to move to Tokyo and expand, she ran the numbers and encouraged him. "After all, Otosan, my mother's family is here for me to visit during breaks. And once you have made a success of your venture, surely you could afford a shinkansen ticket every so often. Do not worry about me. I love my school, for it is the best in many a prefecture."

The man wept as he left his daughter but vowed to make her proud of his hard work. It would not be necessary to worry about housing for a while, for his school friend who had made such a name for himself in the capital had offered him a spare bedroom until he was on his feet. He was certain that by the time Kotoko was ready for university he would have a fine house for her to live in. After all, the best schools were there, were they not?


Yasutake Ichiyo was well beyond frustrated and more than halfway into irate. The sugar daddy-turned-husband who had provided for her comfort the past seven years had passed away. Unfortunately, he had tied up the business so that his trophy wife, now widow, could not ruin it and thus put thousands of people out of work, and she was only given access to several personal accounts. Those, although blessed with an abundance of yen, were insufficient to satisfy her. That stupid scholarship foundation was out of her reach–not that she didn't try to get her talons in it–considering that it supported a family-founded school, but in a sub-folder near the records for it she discovered a source of connected but not locked-down cash. It would only cover her make-up purchases for two months, but every little bit helps.


The headmistress of Hame-Bo was most distressed to tell one of her prize pupils that, for some reason, the funds had dried up for her education. The young woman took it more calmly than supposed, and, when asked, merely responded, "It was always in the plans for me to move to Tokyo for my university education. I shall let Otosan know that I will arrive a year early. Perhaps he will have some idea of a school of comparable quality."

When she presented the director with the name of the school which her father's friend recommended ('Iri-chan's older son goes there and he's a genius'), she was pleased that it was high on the list from that woman, who still fretted that she was losing the one who would likely have been valedictorian. "Please permit me to write you a letter of recommendation. It is the least I can do to make up for this unforeseen calamity."

Kotoko did not demur that it was an unnecessary gesture, for her economics tutor had drilled in her to accept any advantage offered, financial or otherwise. Thus, in due course she received a testing date.

Unfortunately, Hokkaido experienced a brief warming trend, and the snow changed to cold rain, which turned everything to slippery slush. As she approached the train station, a careless hurrying commuter bumped into her, which resulted in a slightly painful landing in a pile of not-yet-liquid snow. Passersby assisted her to her feet, and a few minutes leaning over the hand fans in the restroom dried her clothes and hair to some degree; the chill remained with her, however.

By the time she reached Tokyo, she was wiping her nose every few minutes. Her father served her warm miso soup and put her in his bed instantly, but the damage was done. The next morning her sinuses were so stuffy that she almost believed they were packed with cotton balls.

"Ith otay, Otothan," she assured him from behind her mask, "I'd be fine. I dow de material." Her confidence slipped with every hour that passed, but at least when she left she felt the satisfaction of completing the assessment.

She stayed a couple of days longer than anticipated to allow her father to act as the hovering parent of which he had been deprived for many years. "Iri-chan pointed me in the direction of a house, almost new, which the owners are selling as they are moving to Shanghai for business. When you come back to stay, you will have your own suite of rooms to live in."

"And no more sleeping on the sofa for you," she scolded. "I would have been just as comfortable there."

"Nonsense," he argued. "Nothing is too good for my little girl."

And so they parted, looking forward to the end of winter term so that once more they could live together–year'round–as a family.


A/N2: So, after a foray into the Harry Potter fandom, I'm back. Just a warning in case someone would like to write in that genre: the reviewers can get downright nasty if your story does not go the way they think it should. With over 800,000 stories based on Rowling's universe, one would think they would just find another to read, but No! And then, most complainers are Guest reviewers, which I take to mean that they have never put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) to write an original story themselves. Yes, I 'Bless Their Hearts' a lot.

Anyway, back to Itakiss. This tale, like a number of mine, changes a single event of canon then shows the ripples which result from that one pebble. Most of the story takes place in the senior year of high school with lots of Mrs. Irie confusion and Kinnosuke just being Kinnosuke. (Sorry, Kin-lovers, but he's not First Male Lead material in my book.) And while a misunderstanding based on religion plays a part in the plot, I mean no insult. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!