You sighed as you stared up at the large sign above your head, the giant, pulsing neon kanji "水商売" flickered continuously between colours, red, blue, red, blue, their iridescence bathing over the worn stone walls and concreted path that surrounded the shabby looking doorway, the outside of this place was always such an eye-sore. At least it was a week night, that would make your shift a lot easier, but of course they just had to be short staffed today, of course they had to call you, of all the people they could've called in for assisstance, they called you in, on the night that you were finally going to start studying for finals. But it's not like you could refuse, you had to get the extra money somehow, being a college student isn't cheap.

That's the only reason why you worked here, at this poorly treated, down-trodden looking hostesss bar that was tucked away in a one of the back alleys of Shinjuku. Sketchy place, but it paid well.

You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly, the soft humming of the lights filling your ears and making you wish you were back at your dorm room with the broken window and bug zapper, constantly humming. But you weren't, you were here instead. Sighing again, you slowly made your way around to the side-door, the employees entrance, and briskly entered the change-rooms, glancing down once at the large '6:00pm' on your phone screen before you stuffed it into your designated locker space and pulled out your 'uniform', a short, wispy, tight-fitting black maid outfit with a flayed and frilled skirt and white accents, matched with a pair of thigh-high black socks that are just a little too tight, a big white bow on each, the hostess uniform.

As you carefully slipped on the delicate looking outfit, as with every other day you worked here, you found yourself thinking about your first day, how scared you were of the uniform, how horrified you were by the rules and regulations, and the special menu. You used to wonder how this place hadn't already been been closed down by the police or something, but the answer to that is pretty clear, the bar itself is small, both in physical size and in publicity, it was set up in a building in a quieter, smaller area of the big 'city of the night', it's so small it seems to even get away from the eye of the law, or, at least, they haven't been able to prove that anything illegal happens here, all the workers like the money too much to fess-up.

Though, you had one little thing that'd allow you to hold onto your last strip of sanity while working here, the fact that it was a week day, the bar never really has any patrons on a regular basis, but today it'd be even more empty than usual, that's what you held onto as you quietly stepped into the parlour and let a content sigh escape your lips as the bitterly sweet aroma of coffee and vanilla enveloped you. That was another thing that you liked about working here, the aesthetic visuals, compared to other bars and clubs this place had a more welcoming feel to it, all while fitting with a soft black and white theme, and the incense they had commonly burning around the parlour, your eyes glided over the current patrons, just as you expected, there weren't many, it was rather quiet too. Good.

Most of the patrons had already been served, that made your job a lot easier, so you quickly set to clearing the tables that still had any plates or cups on them, feeling secure in the fact that all the attention was going to the other maids, until you got to the fourth uncleaned table. You could suddenly feel someone's eyes on you, boring into you, and you stiffened. No. This happens all the time. You tried to calm yourself with that thought before you went to return the used dishes to the kitchen, but something caught your eye, well, rather, your ear. A loud, obnoxious, and obviously impatient sounding groan emanated from a few booths to your left, your head turned automatically in the direction of the sound only to see a booth filled with 5 young men, when did they get here?

"Uuuuugh com'n dude, we've been waitin' for half'n hour! Why won't anyone serve us?!" The same voice, it was coming from the one with slightly spiked, blond-dyed hair, the way he was laying hunched over the table in a defeated stature seemed overdramatic.

"Ryuji, you must learn to be patient. Only ruin presents itself to impatience." The tall, sleek one with the slick blue hair spoke next, his voice mimicking a drawn-out regal tone, it seemed he had an aire of sincerity that the blonde lacked.

"I must whole-heartedly agree with Yusuke, Ryuji, you are being rather impatient." A soft, even voice, it sounded so familiar, you couldn't see the person behind it from the angle you were at though. That was frustrating.

Having had enough of just listening, you set the plates back on the table and made your way to their booth, doing a half skip-like jump and spinning on your heel to face them as you reached them, at a huffed 'finally' from the blond you clasped your hands together in front of your thighs and bowed politely, maybe somewhat apologetically, even.

"I am very sorry to keep you waiting, we are severely undertaffed as of the moment," You tried to make your voice come out clear as it usually did when you were serving patrons, but something about these boys seemed to make it falter, you straightened back up and kept your hands clasped, "is there anything you would like to order?"

The blond was about to open his mouth to respond but suddenly the fourth boy piqued up, as he tried to stutter out something incomprehensible you watched him, how he seemed to make a lot of hand movements, how his blue bangs kept falling into his eyes, how his face slowly got even more red. He seemed like a sub.

"AS Mishima was trying to say!" The blond cut him off and he just sunk back into his seat, yep, definitely a sub.

"Yes, we would most certainly like to order something, miss." The soft voice from before started up again, you instinctively looked only to have your entire state shaken. That was Goro Akechi, the detective prince. To think he'd be friends with a group like this.

"I heard that the food and coffee here is absolutely devine!" The regal voice chimed.

"Damnit Yusuke, we're not only here for the food, remember?!"

"You assured me that we would not be taking part in such actions."

"Ryuji, it seems as if you have lead us here as some form of trap."

"Shuddup! You guys would'a come regardless!"

"T-to be honest, considering our group, w-we probably would've..."

"See?!"

Everything was starting to blur by now. The voices had all phased into one and you just stared blankly at the wall beside them, dealing with large groups was always impossible. That's when a sigh from your right brought you back, you looked down to your right to see the fifth boy running his fingers through his hair in a slightly agitated way.

"The plan was that all of us would eat except for one." The chesnut and blue haired prince-like figures stilled, suddenly completely silent, staring at the black haired boy in shock.

Then...

"YOU WERE IN ON THIS TOO?!"

You rubbed your forehead and muttered some obscene words before drawing a deep breath.

"Listen, can you all please quieten down? You're disturbing other patrons. I will leave this table with a copy of both menu's and I'll come back in a few minutes." You dropped the menus on the empty table and turned, walking away in an annoyed huff.

"H-how will we decide...?" Mishima mumbled.

"Let's have a game of chance."

For about fifteen minutes you passed the time by moving from table to table, occasionally glancing back at the booth of those five men, you couldn't seem to keep your eyes away from them. Now they seemed to have settled for a decisive match of Rock Paper Scissors, it seemed that every few times you glanced over your shoulder one of them would be sitting back, no longer participating. It seemed that they had become relatively serious over such a weird decision.

Time dragged on slowly, it always seemed to slow while you were here, but now it felt like it had slowed to an agonizingly slow speed, you had a strong feeling in your gut that something was off, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was, it wasn't until you returned to the parlour from the kitchen, now free of a duo of plates and cups, with the intention to once more return to the booth that harboured that frustratingly annoying and confusing group that you looked around and realised something.

Dread.

Your blood ran cold at the thought.

Now, as you stiffly walked over to the booth, you could only hope that one of them could finish before the men made their orders. But as luck would have it, it wasn't on your side.

As you reached the booth, you bowed once more in your politely apologetic manner, before mumbling-

"I apologise, I'm the only hostess available at the moment."