A/N: Not mine.

"Komori! Ishikawa!" The two girls looked up from their much-erased worksheets. The summer instructor waved them forward. "Highly irregular," he shoved an envelope at them, "but this was delivered to the office."

"Um, thank you, Sensei," Satomi replied, confused.

"See that it doesn't happen again. Now, get back on track with your calculus."

"Back on track?" Jinko moaned. "I never understood it in the first place."

"Me either," her friend whispered as she slit the envelope open with a nail file. "What? They want me to open this where Kin-chan can't see?"

A furtive check showed that gentleman with his head on the desk, drool dampening the worksheet.

"Should be safe now." They read it simultaneously. "Oh, Aihara thanked us."

"What's this?" Jinko picked up an even smaller envelope. "Oh!" She barely remembered to keep it down. "This is a gift card to that new café across from the bus stop."

"Maybe we ought to be a little nicer to her. I mean, she's a nerd and all, but we're all sisters at heart."

"Yeah, we women gotta stick together."

So when they caught wind of Kinnosuke's questionable notion to follow Kotoko home so that he could 'wow her' with his initiative, the girls decided to foil the plot. Since they found out about it when tutoring was almost finished, they had no chance to send a quick note to the tennis courts. Thus, they too joined the ever-lengthening list of people headed in the direction of the Irie home.

"Why the frack is she travelin' with that geek Irie?" the mastermind raged.

"Uh, Boss, Irie may be a geek but he's no slouch in the athletic department. I don't particularly want to tangle with him."

"Aw, quit bein' a crybaby! He's just a poor imitation of me, actin' like a gentleman."

"Eh?"

"He's protectin' her from the riff-raff on the train."

"Riff-raff?" Satomi rolled her eyes at her friend. "Seems it takes one to know one."

"Isn't that the truth!" Jinko hissed back.

Unaware of the peanut gallery comments, the boy continued. "Once they separate, he won't be any problem. We'll have Kotoko's address, easy-peasy!"

"And then?"

"Why, we–that is, I–will knock on the door and invite her to spend some time with me."

"What time, Kin-chan? We still have another week of summer school."

"Details!" He waved away the annoying fact. "Let's see: where would a classy broad like Kotoko like to go on a date?"

"Probably to the loony bin to make a deposit," Jinko cracked. "Uh-oh! They're on the move!"

The oblivious pair continued towards home and, for Kotoko, an afternoon of kitchen torture. "I know your mother means well, but you'd think she would have got the message by now that I'm hopeless," she griped.

"You mean culinarily-challenged?" he teased.

"That's too polite a term for having to tell the fire department–twice!–that they were called because I burned a meal,"

"But, 'al fresco dinners are so refreshing!'" His voice mimicked his mother's almost exactly.

She giggled then said, "Well, expect to eat on the patio again tonight. She is having me grill fish."

"Ouch!" He winced. "It'll take forever to get that smell out of the furnishings."

"Why ain't they splittin' up?" Kinnosuke grumbled as he peered around a lamp post which would have done little to hide him had the pair turned around, especially as his broader friends merely stood behind garbage cans without stooping.

"Does Kin-chan think he's some sort of private eye?" Satomi wondered. She and Jinko were being slightly more discreet, only sticking their heads around a fenced corner to watch the action.

"If so, he sucks at it."

"Goodness," Mrs. Irie raised her head from the clogged garbage disposal, Kotoko having wasted no time in destroying what the matron had thought a no-fail recipe, "what is that noise outside?"

"Would you like me to check?" the beleaguered girl offered eagerly.

"No, no," she fluttered a hand–perhaps the child could just boil the rice for the side dish?–"let the man in the house handle it. Onii-chan!" she called up the stairs.

"Yes, Ma?" He stepped into view, towel-drying his hair after a brief shower, Yuuki on his heels.

"There appears to be an altercation in the street. Can you please see if it is something I need to be concerned about?"

"Sure," he raised a shoulder and turned to his brother, "you coming?"

"Yeah!" The boy followed him to the living room with almost a dancing gait.

"Now if it looks to be dangerous," their mother called, "make sure Yuuki-kun stays well out of the way and call the authorities."

"Right." He rolled his eyes, Yuuki giggling as he tagged along. "You know something about this, brat?"

"It's been better than a TV show," the boy told him as they cracked open the door and peered out. "I had…liberated some cookies from the kitchen and was eating them on the balcony when I saw you and Onee-chan coming down the street."

"Onee-chan." He shook his head in resignation. Ever since his mother had made a prediction of his and Kotoko's upcoming marriage, his younger brother had insisted on calling the girl that.

"Yeah," he grinned unrepentantly, "you guys are apparently a lot more interesting than you think."

"How so?"

"Well, there were these three guys, sort of like a comedy troupe, following you. They hid behind bushes and poles and trash cans, sometimes diving for cover if they thought you were about to turn around."

"Hmm." The Irie home was at the end of a fairly long cul-de-sac, and their progress would have been easily visible from the location outside the boys' bedroom.

"And that's not even the best part," he continued. "'Cause they were followed themselves. By two girls. And they," he cocked his head, "were better at hiding."

"Well," Naoki remarked, "the others must not be that poor at skulking, for Kotoko and I didn't notice anything out of place."

"Nah, you two were having quite the discussion, with Onee-chan's arms moving like she was signaling a ship." A mischievous spark appeared in his eyes. "Were you talking about where you were going on your honeymoon? Maybe a cruise?"

"You rascal." He rubbed his brother's hair into a mess and slipped off the porch to more closely view the source of the ever-increasing noise.

By now the insults had shifted from personal to societal. Instead of 'Kin-chan you idiot' and 'Jealous much?' it was 'Criminal stalker' and 'What's next? Rape?' Deciding that it was time to cool things down, as certain terms might provoke the neighbors to notify the authorities, he stepped up the wrought-iron gate.

"Was there a Class F party scheduled on our street today?"

The girls quickly stopped trying to drag the boys away and retreated a small distance from the others.

"Sorry, Irie-kun," Satomi said with a head bob, which Jinko copied once her friend poked her, "but we overheard these goons talking about following Aihara to find out her address. One of them–"

"Kin-chan, the loud-mouth," Jinko put in.

"–thinks that she should be overjoyed that he wants to date her."

"From what I've been told, that is not the case," he stated, ignoring Kinnosuke's shout that he had 'lotsa babes who think I'm da bomb'.

"Not at all and he," she jerked a thumb at the boy, whose friends were trying to steer him away from the site of the previous melee, "came up with the brilliant idea of turning into Stalker-kun." She glared at her classmate before turning back to Naoki. "We're sorry for making such a fuss in front of her house, but we didn't find out about it until a couple hours ago."

"Yeah," Jinko said, "too late to send you a note."

"Ah," his eyes lit up, "are you the helpful Ishikawa and Komori? Come on in, I'm sure Kotoko will want to thank you for watching out for her safety." He turned to the boys. "And in case it was not clear, you are not invited."

"Are you sure she'd welcome us into her home? I mean, all we have in common is that we share a classroom."

"Believe me," he smirked, thinking of Kotoko in durance vile with his mother, "she will be more than happy to see you. Besides, it is my home, as she is living with us."

"You hypocrite!" Kinnosuke broke free and rushed towards Naoki, arms waving in a threatening manner. "Shackin' up with her while makin' fun of my honorable proposal."

He fell on his face when Jinko extended her leg during his approach. She bent down and rebuked him in as loud a volume as he had been using, "Honorable? All we heard you saying was that you would 'show her a good time'."

"Yes," Satomi jumped into the fray, "how can you possibly compare that to marriage? Plus, we're not of age, you baka!"

"Buh, buh," he attempted to speak through the blood running from his nose and busted lip.

"But nothing." Yuuki stepped out and kicked a little dust into the older boy's face. "Besides, Kotoko is going to marry my brother."

Naoki face-palmed as the girls squealed. "Not helping, Yuuki."

Luckily at that point Mrs. Sohma two doors down waved her cell phone. "Don't worry, young Irie! I made a video and can call the police on these hooligans, if you want."

A wailing Kinnosuke was thus dragged out of the neighborhood well before the non-arrival of a patrolman, as Naoki assured her that he had the situation well in hand.

Mrs. Irie was quite pleased to welcome two extra females into the male-dominated Irie home. She was even more impressed when the girls began to pitch in with dinner preparation. Jinko's extended family was from the seaside, and she mixed up a spice rub which had been (up to then) a secret recipe. Satomi, on the other hand, surveyed the vegetables and quickly assembled a cold salad with tofu; after she placed it in the refrigerator so that the flavors could blend together, all three were chased from the kitchen so they could enjoy some 'girl time'.

Out of the matron's buffering presence, the girls stared at each other in Kotoko's pink bedroom. "So," Satomi began, "you and Irie-kun…?"

She explained the need for alternative housing and the daydreams of Mrs. Irie for an Aihara/Irie match.

"To put it mildly, that wouldn't be the end of the world," Jinko commented.

"Yes," Satomi agreed, "I'd love to rent out his brain sometimes. Senior year is really kicking my butt."

Jinko groaned, "Especially calculus. Having Irie here as a 24-hour resource sounds like bliss."

"Um, Naoki doesn't help me with calculus that much."

"Huh?"

"I had an excellent grounding at my previous school. However, while math is pretty much the same in any language, the other courses can be more subjective. But he and his friends have caught me up in history and science–those textbooks were a little dated there. I also had to work on my English accent; the nun who taught was French, and although my accent in that language is reported to be Parisian, my English makes me sound like some sort of tourist."

"You know French?" Jinko goggled. "That's only offered at Tonan by computer correspondence, and we–Class F, that is–have enough trouble with the regular classes to take on anything more."

"Yes, yes, that's all interesting," Satomi broke in, "but let's get back to math. Do you think you could help us with calculus? Because, I swear I can't understand any of Sensei's explanations."

"And the reason you can't is because he doesn't actually understand it. I suppose," her eyes twinkled, "I could help you if you insist that the only time you can do it is in the afternoon."

"Sure, but why?"

"That's when Obasama tries to turn me into a chef."

"Cooking's not your thing, huh?" Jinko asked cheekily.

"Not a bit." She shook her head. "Besides, that's what Otosan is for."

"Your dad cooks?" Satomi was impressed. "I mean, some of the older generation are cool with tasks not being assigned by gender, but Irie-kun's mom–!"

"Yes. The nicest thing Yuuki and Naoki call her is a 'blast from the past', while my culinary efforts are either incendiaries or weapons of mass destruction. Anyway," she shook her head, "he moved his restaurant from Hokkaido to Tokyo several years ago; it's called Fugu-kichi."

"Fugu–"

"–kichi?"

"O! M! G!" Jinko gasped. "Please, if there is any way in Japan that it is possible, can you get me in there? I swear, I would be willing to eat whatever food is left on customers' plates just to get a taste of his food!"

"That's a bit far for me," Satomi looked a little queasy, "but I wouldn't turn down an offer to be put on the waitlist for a reservation. Just let me save up my allowance for six months so I can pay for it."

"Don't be silly," Kotoko laughed. "I'll have him fix me a large basket for lunch, and we can share it one day."

The girls stared at her, jaws dropping. Finally Satomi shook her head. "No, that's too much favor from you when we have nothing to offer in return."

"Speak for yourself," Jinko admonished.

"Baka!" She smacked her. "Aihara here–"

"Kotoko, please."

"–is going to help us pass our hardest class. What can we do for someone with all of her advantages?"

Jinko pondered. "Teach her to cook?"

"Anything but that!" Kotoko protested. "No," she looked at them shyly, "I have been missing female friends. In my previous school there were only girls, and the Class A study group is all boys; and then there is this household, with two sons and two fathers. I know we don't have a lot in common, but maybe we could try and find some common ground?"

"You're on!" Jinko stuck out her hand to shake.

"Yes," Satomi agreed, "and, if you'd like, we could help you with makeup and wardrobe. Unless," she looked around the room, "that's against your religion."

"No," she sighed, "just another way that Obasama doesn't listen to me." The crucifix had been joined by various votary candles, and, to Kotoko's amusement, a Russian Orthodox icon. "But, as isolated as I was for several years, I am willing to listen to you and possibly adopt what I am comfortable with."

"No prob!" Jinko grinned. "We don't want to make the savior of our high school career uncomfortable."