Author's Notes: Much thanks to the ones who reviewed the prologue, most especially to Colonel Bastard for setting my spelling "strait."

I'm still playing with this fanfic, so pardon if you think it's a huge failure. I do know I have to work on my dialogues. Sometimes I wish English was my first language and not my fourth (or fifth, if you consider gibberish a language) so I wouldn't have much trouble with my diction. To add insult to injury, I've recently lost my PDA phone where two finished chapters of Seven Days were stored (along with hordes of other stuff), so this one is just written from my not-so-sharp memory. Also, darn me for not researching on how the Japanese education system works.

Standard disclaimers apply. Again, feel free to inform me of any errors.

Chapter 1: Getting to Know Her (Day 1)

Destiny? It is, in its entirety, an absolute irony of life. I believe that I'm the one who makes my own destiny. And right now, I've foolishly destined myself to be the supposed boyfriend of a currently unnamed blue-haired, purple-eyed girl for seven days. I don't know what exactly led me to agree to take part in this crazy hullabaloo. I've always been a logical person, one who always examines the situation before crashing into it head on. But for one reason or another, my logic has stopped working properly ever since I met her.

Maybe insanity is contagious after all. It perfectly accounts for my temporary idiocy during the whole encounter with her.

I've resolved to exhaust all my effort in avoiding her like a plague. However, upon careful analysis of the situation, I realize that it's virtually to completely impossible because I have to do the job my stepfather has entrusted me with. I can probably get away with calling in sick for the week, but it's not what a responsible stepson will do. What a responsible stepson will do is go to the café and at least pretend to be doing something productive. A responsible stepson will face any circumstances hurled his way, crazy girl or no crazy girl. And I'm a responsible stepson. Only, there's a crazy girl.

So much for avoiding her at all costs.

I can only hope that despite her being a guest in the hotel where the café is situated, her visits will be limited from a few minutes to naught. She does have to explore Tokyo, sight-see, and shop 'till she drops. They're what tourists do, and she's a tourist, so she has to act like one. I hope.

But just then, as I brood over a suitable plan of action to carefully extricate myself from my plight, Lady Luck decides to play with me and act all cruel by being completely dumb. I have a sinking suspicion that she's a sexist and really has something against me because as soon as I return to the café from my break, the blue-headed girl makes an entrance so grand that it's hardly unnoticeable. She looks flushed; her windswept hair and sparkling eyes tell me she's been out, probably to shop.

Everyone watches as she pounces on me, latches onto my arm, acts all sweet and innocent, and tells me she's been looking for me. Have I eaten yet? Do I feel tired? Maybe I need a rest? Do I want something? She shoots one question after another like a machine-gun, and I can't get a word in edgewise even if I want to.

"You've been gone for hours, and I was worried that something bad happened to you. What have you been doing anyway?" she babbles.

"I just went out for lunch with a friend."

The said friend, namely Hiei, just stares at her in bewilderment for a moment, surprised at the girl's odd behavior. His lips twist in a very malicious smirk. He must have realized this is the same person we talked about earlier; the one I've dashingly and conveniently nicknamed Girl Interrupted Jane Doe, or GI Jane Doe, for reasons obvious enough for me not to explain. And -- need I even forget? -- she's the same one who's probably going to be the death of me.

After the all too necessary introductions in which I've finally found out the girl's real name, Hiei decides to make up for missing his shift and now mans the counter, looking as bored as usual. He has pointedly ignored my silent plea to rescue me from the girl's death trap and instead almost instantly disappears from sight. Meanwhile, I've been cornered and am currently stuck in a table with her talking my ears off like there's no tomorrow. I have a truckload of reasons to leave her, but none is an effective excuse enough to work unless she's even a little bit gullible to fall for it. And I'm not about to take that chance lest I get caught red-handed and offend her.

The café is pitifully empty at the moment except for a few regulars, and sadly, nothing needs my immediate attention. Even the hotel lobby seems deserted save for the few employees and people who want to either check in or leave. Tourists are surely crowding the streets of Tokyo, having fun visiting different tourist spots and buying souvenirs for their loved ones, while I'm being obliged to be certain someone's boy toy. Oh, joy.

"And you know, I found this really spiffy store that sells beautiful but cheap kimonos. I'm thinking of buying one for my mother. She's a sucker for pink ones especially, and I found just the thing in that shop that has the smoothest fabric and the cutest design. Now I just have to find something for my dad, but I'm not exactly sure what he would like. You know, I remember one time I gave him five bottles of Jizake from Kochi City. You know what Jizake is, right? Well, my dad really liked it, which is no surprise because he likes drinking sake anyway. So now I'm really at loss on what to give him. Maybe he'd like a…"

And she goes on and on and on. I promptly tune out her voice, wanting a moment of silence that will enable me to think.

Botan. Utsukushii Botan. That's her name. It can be loosely translated as beautiful peony or lovely Botan. But if you ask me, it should be somewhere along the lines of "Crazy Botan" or "Annoying Botan." She's fast becoming a nuisance, but I guess lovely is still an apt word to describe her. She wears the same outfit from earlier, the only difference being that her hair is free from its straining bind, framing her delicate face and flowing beautifully on her back. I must admit it suits her better, giving her an almost angelic look. She's really not bad-looking at all. If the circumstances are more agreeable, I might even enjoy my time with her.

I look over at her while she talks incessantly, studying her glowing features and wondering just what kind of person she is. With all her babbling, she has yet to mention something personal other than the basics. It seems she's not inclined to tell me anything about her except her experiences in the places she's been to. She does talk about her family, but never about what she does, what she likes, what she loves. Or why she has asked us to be a couple for a while.

She prattles on about how Tokyo is a bit similar yet different from the place where she lives, Kagoshima Prefecture, which is located south of Japan in Kyushu Island. She seems like a walking, talking, and eating Kagoshima guidebook, enumerating the main attractions and events of her homeland. It's pathetically obvious that she has only half my attention, just as it's pathetically obvious that she doesn't really care if I listen to her or not as long as she gets to talk. I just respond to her whenever she asks questions, nod when needed, and smile when compelled. She doesn't seem to be put off by my cold detachment. Maybe she knows how much of a reluctant participant I am in this façade, or maybe she's just terribly dense about things like that. Whatever the reason is, I'm glad she's not getting on my case, especially because she's the one who conned me into this pretense of a relationship in the first place.

Hiei thinks my predicament is highly amusing. I always catch him evilly smirking, stealing glances at us from across the room, but I can give him nothing more than acidic glares with veiled threats of sweet revenge. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm powerless to do anything more than glower at him in secret. Whenever our eyes meet, he gives me a leer that clearly states, "Hey, it's your fault for getting yourself in that situation." And the annoying thing is, he's absolutely, positively, infinitely, without-a-doubt right. I'm the one who got myself into this mess. And I have to endure seven days of utter torture in the hands of a conniving, loony, extremely cheerful girl.

I shift uncomfortably in my sit, crossing my legs and clasping my hands on my knees. If there's one thing I've learned all throughout our one-sided conversation, it's that she has a very hearty appetite practically unheard of from a girl her physique. One has to wonder how she keeps the weight off with all the stuff she eats. She's not even exactly a slob; in fact she's thoughtful enough to offer me whatever it is she's having every time. Hiei is evidently as thrown off as I am, being used to women fawning over their figure and weight. I guess she's one of those people who have a fast metabolism, or don't care one way or another, or maybe even both. Still, it's a good thing she has mentioned earlier something about not having to take her out on dates; I'd surely be thousands of yen poorer by the end of the day if ever that's not the case.

She strikes me as a person who's family-oriented, a trait I find attractive in her. When she talks about her family and relatives, her eyes just glow with undeniable happiness, a fond smile on her face. She squeals in delight and tells me funny stories about them and their misadventures at home. More than once I've caught a glint of something akin to sadness in her eyes, perhaps wistful that she's far away from the people she loves.

In fact, I conclude to myself, if not for the fact that I'm a living proof and witness to her imprudent tendencies, she seems to be a terrific person all in all.

So what led her to ask me to be her one-week boyfriend this morning?

I've been asking myself that question for countless of times. Many reasons come to mind, some of them even bordering on ideas verily illogical, but none which I can confirm. Maybe it's a social experiment required in their university that deals with individual behavior when asked a peculiar question. Maybe she's from a gag show that I've never heard of, and it's just my luck to be chosen as her victim. Maybe she's a freelance writer for a fashion magazine and wants to write an article on "How to Drive a Guy Crazy in 7 Days." But through it all, I can't think of the most plausible explanation besides that she's really just mentally imbalanced and in need of patience and understanding.

A lot of patience and understanding.

So absorbed I am in my thoughts that I almost missed her turning the spotlight to me. "Why don't you have someone special in you love life? You're very handsome." I snap out of my thoughts, my left eyebrow twitching at her offhand comment, as she continues, "And I'm willing to bet my last tempura that you're smart. So, why?" She throws me a casual but questioning glance as she carefully picks a tempura with her chopsticks, playing with it for a while until she finally decides to take a generous bite.

While the prospect of getting her last tempura is tempting, I just I take a sip of my orange juice and choose not to answer.

Why indeed? Even I don't know the answer. It's not that I'm choosy, or maybe I am, but I really haven't found the one yet. No one has ever succeeded in breaking my defenses. No one has ever made me feel that it's worthy to risk my love and trust on her. No one has ever made my heart flutter and soar with joy.

I think I've been watching my mother's romance movie collection too much.

Botan waits patiently for my response, but sensing my reluctance to answer, her lips curl into a smile and she looks as me knowingly. "Oh, I get it. You're homosexual, eh?" She nods with a thoughtful look on her face as she pats my hand, as if to lend comfort and support for the nonexistent identity crisis I have. "I feel for you."

I nearly choke on my juice, shock numbing my entire body. It's through sheer control that I managed not to spit out my drink directly at her face. She says the most ludicrous and bothersome things, this woman! It's not the first time that someone has mistaken me for a homosexual, but the person in front of me lacks tact. Trust her to bring something like that up while eating. She says what's on her mind, and has no qualms in doing it. Probably one who talks before she thinks, which isn't surprising, to say the least.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," she adds in a hushed voice, winking. She continues to eat as if nothing odd has just happened. I watch her play with her second-to-the-last tempura while humming happily, expertly clamping the piece of food between her chopsticks and putting it on her mouth. I notice that she looks as if she's trying her hardest to conceal her mirth.

It's not until then that I realize she's been merely teasing me. Comprehension and apprehension of what she's doing must have shown on my face for she chuckles loudly, finding the situation hilarious.

I let out an exasperated sigh and shake my head. "Glad you're having fun," I say dryly. How anyone can possibly understand what's going on in her mind is beyond me. She's an unpredictable and puzzling character, wordlessly challenging all those who meet her to figure her out correctly.

Needless to say, I'm not up to the challenge.

"Oh, you! You don't know how to take a joke," she whines heatedly despite her sunny grin, which she covers with one feminine hand.

My face remains impassive, and I say nothing. Of course I know how to take a joke, just not the below-the-belt ones. Besides, she's annoying me to no end.

"You should have seen your face. It was so bloated, like you were about to burst!" She laughs louder, making the other customers look at us questioningly, some with annoyance written on their faces for having their relatively quiet afternoon disturbed. I give them an apologetic look then turn my attention back to Botan.

"Well, I'm sorry," I answer with mild sarcasm. "I was trying hard not to give you an untimely bath in orange juice and stain your clothes."

She waves her hands dismissively, snorting in an unladylike fashion. "Ease up a little, will you?" she chides. "No wonder you're still single."

I slightly raise an eyebrow at her words, slightly curious but still deadpanned. What does that have to do with anything? As far as I know, nothing. So I just feign disinterest in our so-called dialogue, which isn't exactly hard to do, come to think of it.

She shrugs and moves to bite into her last tempura. I eye the food on her mouth, suppressing the urge to steal it from her. I guess I'm not going to get it after all. Too bad.

"On one hand, women like men who can make fun of and laugh at themselves once in a while," she suddenly states in a matter-of-fact tone. "You, on the other hand," she points her chopsticks at me accusingly, "are so uptight. You don't know how to have fun. You're, like, an old male spinster." She scrunches up her face and shudders at the thought.

"I am not," I say indignantly.

"Are too!"

Silence.

"You're very unappetizing," she tells me as she pushes her empty plate away. After a few beats, she impishly grins and exclaims brightly, "So how about an ice cream?"

I stare at her and think, "She is so incredibly and unpredictably crazy."

The nearest ice cream shop is a fifteen-minute walk from the hotel. It has taken Botan and almost all the café employees a good ten minutes to convince me to go. Why and how my workmates have even managed to involve themselves in the situation, I don't know. Perhaps they find my distress funny and entertaining. It's not the first time they've tried to convince me to go out with someone, but I always politely turn down their offers and ideas. I tell them I will get a girlfriend when I very well feel like it. And right now, I don't feel like it. But being tag teamed by the people around me, it's another story.

Botan and I walk shoulder-to-shoulder under the tolerable heat of the sun, not one of us saying a word. She's unusually quiet. She just looks ahead, or admires different trees we pass, but never turns her eyes on me. I don't know what's wrong, but I'm too busy to ask her what it is; I'm still reeling over the fact that she's probably a psychotic, perhaps one with multiple personalities, to care. I can't figure her out, and I get the feeling that she doesn't want to be figured out.

"Shuichi?" she says tentatively, breaking the uncomfortable silence between us.

"Yes, Botan?"

"Uhm, well, it's nothing, really," she squeaks out while laughing nervously. "I just want to ask you what your favorite flavor of ice cream is. You know, for later. My treat, of course."

"Anything is fine, Botan," I reply shortly. I'm really not picky when it comes to food. Besides, I do like ice cream.

We're nearing the ice cream shop, only a few steps away. As soon as it comes to view, Botan claps her hands gaily and says, "Oh, look! There it is! Come on!" She grabs my hand and skips to the shop, catching me by surprise. I falter for a few moments until the pressure of her pull forces me to walk faster and catch up with her.

A small bell tinkles as we enter the shop, and all the customers turn to see who the newcomers are. Some groups of girls excitedly murmur or squeal to each other at my arrival, making me want to sink on the floor for their quite embarrassing reactions.

I really don't need this, I groan to myself.

I notice that most of them have shifted their gazes from my face to my left arm, their looks transforming from utter happiness to that of murderous chagrin. I look down and realize that Botan's hands and mine are still clasped together. I blush slightly and let go of her hand quickly, putting some safe distance between us.

Botan looks at me curiously but says nothing. She must be wondering what the ruckus is all about. She'd sure have a laugh when she realizes that it's about me. And I'm sure she's going guffaw unattractively when she's told why it's about me. That the one she has called an old male spinster is actually one who receives love letters like they're floods of homework.

I grimace mentally, not looking forward to anything but the ice cream.

"Hello, Shuichi! Fancy seeing you here," someone huskily calls out as Botan orders for our cold sweet treats.

Botan and I turn around find a group of girls blushing wildly huddled in the center of the room. Ishikawa Misato, the president of Minamino Shuichi Fan Club, steps forward, a wide grin plastered on her face. She's supposed to be one of the most sought after maidens in the high school I graduated in, but she lacks, for lack of better word, personality. She shoots Botan a long lethal once-over, which the latter chooses to ignore.

"How have you been doing?" she asks coyly.

"I'm doing okay, thank you for asking," I respond politely. "And you, how are you and the girls doing?"

Misato beams. "Just great! Especially now that we've seen you." A buzz of approval echoes through the room. "Who's your female companion?" she asks sweetly but with much venom.

Botan stifles a laugh, her face twisted in an odd and awkward angle. "Hello there! My name is Botan," she says cheerfully while waving to the group. I can tell she's having a hard time hiding her zest. She must have put two and two together about why the girls are acting weirdly.

Misato's eyes narrow and she asks suspiciously, "Oh! And just who are you to Shuichi?"

"Eh? I'm Shuichi's…," she trails off dramatically. The group leans forward, straining to hear what Botan's next words will be. I let out a heavy sigh, expecting the worst. "Date," Botan finishes amusedly with a glance my way, her eyes dancing in mischief.

Gasps and cries are heard within the ice cream shop walls. It seems almost all the girls are ready to faint, their features bleak and fragile. Some of them are openly gaping at Botan and me, and I ready myself for the barrage of questions that's sure to come. But perhaps they've been stunned speechless, for they never questioned what Botan has said. Their eyes are glazed, their mouths are hanging open, and they're staring at Botan with a stricken look on their faces. Misato's smile wavers a bit, but she composes herself quickly.

"D-d-date?!" someone behind Misato squeaks.

Obviously, Botan still hasn't forgotten the specifics of the deal. I'm surprised. It's either because I've terribly mistaken her for a lunatic, or she's really a lunatic, just with a damn good memory. She's managed to dampen the girls' spirits without actually going as far as saying that she's my supposed girlfriend. Sly girl, she is. But really, she can blurt out to anyone that she's my girlfriend, because it won't change the fact that she's really not. Everything is just a masquerade to begin with.

But then, I have never taken anyone on a date. I guess it really comes as a huge surprise to the girls who have made it their lives' mission to stalk and know everything about me since middle high.

I remain poker-faced.

"Oh. Okay. Well, that's…nice. We, uh, have to go. Good luck to you both! Have a pleasant date," Misato squeaks hurriedly before speeding off from the shop, followed by her equally stupefied and forlorn lackeys. I think I've seen a couple of crossed fingers as they turn their backs to me, but I'm not entirely sure.

I look at Botan sheepishly, about to apologize for the scene, but her smug yet apologetic look stops me. She holds up both her hands as if in surrender. "My bad, my bad," she snickers. "So you're an old male spinster who chooses to be an old male spinster. And here I thought you were just deprived. Honestly, I never would have thought you were that famous with girls. Whatever do they see in you?" She looks incredulous, as if personally offended that she's been wrong in assumption all this time. The man in the counter calls our attention and gives us each a cone of ice cream. Botan wastes no time and immediately licks the sugary treat.

"Beats me," I shrug.

"Looks like you're used to it. Have they been doing that for long? Do they chase you around and stuff like that?"

"Yes," I mutter tiredly.

"Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"Sure." Hell, yes!

She gazes at me from under her eyelashes, her purple eyes sparkling like rare gems, different emotions flashing through them.

"You know, it wouldn't hurt if you actually speak more than one or two words at a time." She's almost through with her cone, and I'm almost halfway through mine. She must have a bottomless stomach or something. She's been eating nonstop. Where does she store all the food she consumes?

I pause slightly before answering. "Sure."

But instead of getting annoyed like I've expected her to be, she cracks up and declares, "I think we're going to get along just fine, and we'll definitely enjoy our time together."

"Bah!" I'm not so sure about that.

She furrows her eyebrows and snaps, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," I say innocently.

"Good. You're not the only one who has read Dickens, so don't you dare pull a Scrooge on me, Sherlock."

Still, it's nice to get the fan club off my back, even for a while.

The corners of my lips twisted upward, a devious smile placed distinctly on my face. I wonder what will happen in the next couple of days when the news of me going out with an unknown girl gets around. Judging from the reaction of Misato and her friends, it's going to be a big news within the hour.

A loud thud breaks into my thoughts, and I spin around to see Botan running to a fallen child. As I approach them, I hear her trying to comfort the kid, about 5 years of age, with big brown teary eyes and gentle innocent face. He must have hit himself on a table, I muse.

"Come now, don't cry," she coos softly to the boy. "Where does it hurt?"

The boy points to a spot on his left knee, a bruise slowly forming in it. He looks like he's on the verge of bursting into unstoppable tears. His chest is heaving, about to start his bawling. I cringe inwardly. It takes a lot of patience to calm a child down when he's hurting.

Botan dons a thoughtful look on her face, her eyes full of sympathy and compassion. "You know what?" When the boy looks at her, she says, "I'm really very clumsy."

The boy stares at her, unbelieving. He must be thinking, How can someone as old as you be so clumsy?

"And whenever I hurt myself accidentally, my mother always kisses where it hurts, and then, like magic, the pain's gone!" Botan continues excitedly.

The child's eyes widen with amazement.

Botan whispers conspiringly, "Want me to kiss you there? Maybe I can make the pain go away." She winks playfully, making the kid smile brightly and forget about his mild injury.

He nods eagerly. I watch the procession in front of me almost in indifference.

"What's your name?" Botan inquires.

"Isamu."

"Isamu. It fits you. You're really very brave. Now, Isamu, close your eyes and you'll feel pain no more, okay?"

As Isamu closes his eyes, Botan kisses his knee softly, her eyes also tightly shut.

The dark sky of the coming night is slowly burning behind the skyline as the sun prepares to set, orange and pink blending together perfectly on the horizon. Sunset and moonrise in Tokyo are considered to be romantic things, worthy of sharing with a loved one especially when overlooking the Tokyo Bay. The glass windows of the hotel café are illuminated by a reddish glow, giving it a mysterious yet calm atmosphere.

Everyone is relatively quiet as they revere in the everyday magical phenomenon that never gets old. It's been a few good hours after the silly confrontation with my fan club and Botan's rescue of Isamu, a few hours to go before the coffee shop closes, but Botan's energy is still as high as ever. She never tires of speaking and smiling, no matter how seemingly nonsensical or serious the topics are. She doesn't ask too many questions too; she seems content to do all the talking. If this is a party, she'd certainly be the life of it. And I most definitely would be the party-pooper.

We've decided to go back to the café a few minutes after Isamu's mother found him. The young woman and Botan seem to have grown well-acquainted during the short moment they spent together. I've never known a person to make friends as quickly as Botan. It must be a priceless talent of hers.

The café staff has been giving me suggestive looks after we returned. I have no idea what they expect me to tell them about the so-called date, but surely there isn't anything significantly juicy for them to hear. Even if there is, the details won't come from me.

Two hours before the closing of the café, Hiei says he's had enough of work today and decides to join us in the table. He plops down on one of the wooden chairs on my right, looking a bit exhausted and totally grumpy. Laughing at my back must have completely worn him out. I'm still thinking of ways to get back at him for abandoning me, although I admittedly didn't really have a bad time at all. Generally speaking, I mean.

Botan gives him a toothy grin. He only grudgingly grunts in return. I look at them both, tickled by the fact that they're like oil and water, living in different ends of the spectrum. Oddly enough, Hiei has yet to bite Botan's head off. He's not normally this nice to people, especially those he considers strangers. And cheerful.

"So, how's your date going, Kurama?" he asks boringly, not really expecting an answer.

Botan, confused by the name Hiei used, turns to me curiously. "Kurama?"

"It's what my close friends call me."

"Oh, I see." A small pout makes its way into her face. "You're not leading a double life, are you? Different names and all..."

I sigh heavily. "It's a long story." I pause for a minute to think about something before adding, "You can call me that name if you want."

Her features brighten instantly. "That's great! So does that mean I'm a close friend now?"

"Don't push it," I retort coolly.

She laughs quite merrily at my reaction. "Anyway, it's getting late, I'm tired, and I have to have an early start tomorrow. I think I'm going to spend at least two hours relaxing in the tub before turning in for the night. Walk me to my room?"

"I can't. I have to help close up the café. Maybe some other time."

"Okay. Suit yourself." She shrugs then leans close to me, inevitably invading my personal space. It's strange. I'm not reacting defensively like I usually do. "Good night, Kurama. I've enjoyed my time with you."

I open my mouth to say I've had better times; I'm sure she'll take it quite well, knowing she sees the most humorous things in almost everything. But instead of saying what's on my mind, my mouth utters the word, "Likewise." And even stranger, I realize that I really mean it. It's been a relatively exciting day, not quite what I first expected it to be. Even the scene with Misato is funny, in a crazy way.

Botan looks amused at my answer, and, without any warning, kisses me on top of my head.

I blink in surprise.

"Goodnight, Hiei," she says as she walks out of the café.

Before I can say anything, she's gone. I look at Hiei to confirm if what happened really just happened.

He raises an eyebrow, crosses his arms, and snorts quite disdainfully. "You're getting soft, Kurama."

I think maybe he has a point. I've been doing many unpredictable things since I crossed paths with Botan.

But, as much as I hate to admit it, she's turning out to be quite an interesting person.