Chapter 2
The light was there again, insistent and hurtful, clawing at her eyelids. Haruhi reached out to get the glasses, barely on time to stand up as the pod started to twist around her – the low horizontal structure becoming tall and narrow as it flipped.
"Lights on," says a light synthetic voice that came from the outside "Dormitories 1 through 3 initiating morning routine in ten seconds,"
A sleek plastic slider crawled up the pod walls, covering the bed, which was now standing up. The synthetic voice rolled down a countdown, and a whirling nose coming from somewhere up made Haruhi lift her chin and look at the ceiling just in time to feel a drop fall on her front.
Haruhi realized what was going to happen a second before lukewarm antiseptic water soaked her to the bone, underwear and all. The voice restarted the countdown, indicating that Dormitories 1 through 3 had fifteen seconds to scrub themselves clean before a final rinse, which Haruhi did, being extra careful around her eyes. Hot air blew from up and her skin and the pod walls were dry in seconds.
"Dormitories 1 through 3, get dressed. You have twenty seconds to complete this task,"
Haruhi hurried up, slipping into the unisex briefs and thermal camisole, zipping up her uniform –which was, as she had suspected, amorphous on her frame- and sliding into her issued indoor slippers. There were no mirrors, and there was nothing that she wanted to do about her appearance except maybe becoming invisible, unnoticeable, transparent, and unseen.
She put her glasses on just before the pod's door opened.
"Dormitories 1 through 3, step out of the pods and stand at attention for inspection,"
The door closed immediately behind her, and the pod went back to its original horizontal position. The air outside was dry and much cooler, and laced with the scent and the whispers of a lot of people breathing at the same time.
Haruhi looked to her left, and saw a boy about her age with a bowl cut and square black glasses standing straighter than an arrow, his hands behind his back and his legs slightly parted. She looked to her right, and there was a girl with long dark hair – just like she used to have mere hours ago- in the exact same position. The other wards of the state were already adopting the same posture.
Haruhi positioned herself just so, making sure to look ahead instead of sideways, and crossing her fingers inside her clenched fists behind her back, thinking very hard about happy memories, her mother teaching her the kanas and the letters, her father trying to teach her to sing, and failing, and laughing, the soft raindrops tapping the glass of her old classroom while she solved one equation after another.
She heard her fellow inmates holding their breath before she saw him enter the room – a tall and skinny man, so ancient that his curling moustache and beard looked like the ridges of a trilobite, and so close to death that his skin and the shape of his skull were undistinguishable. He wore the same uniform as the teenagers, only his was equipped with pockets and metal artifacts, and reflective metal glasses that gave him the appearance of a large insect.
"Dormitory 3, step up!" he said. Haruhi, who still did not know in which Dormitory she had landed, almost stepped forward, and only stopped when she saw that the two students to her left and right were immobile as statues and, just like statues, barely breathing.
She heard the step of a hundred students behind her, louder than a hundred drums.
"Dormitory 2, step up!"
Another hundred feet moved forward. Haruhi, who was in the first row, directly in front the old man, held her breath. So she was in Dormitory 1. She threw a quick look to the boy wearing the square glasses, to be sure that she used the same leg as he did to step forward when their row was called.
"Dormitory 1, step up!"
Haruhi thanked her mother's ghost when she didn't trip, or falter, or call attention to herself in any way. Her fingers were crossed so hard behind her back that they felt numb. She looked blankly ahead.
"Matsuyama, Jonouchi and Hikaru Hitachiin!"
Two pairs of shoes behind her, and one flash of red to her left. She looked sideways at a slender boy with flaming hair, who was standing a foot before the Dormitory 1 row.
"Matsuyama, Jonouchi and Hikaru Hitachiin, you will report to lab 51 for random search before your morning class," shouted the old man. "I will be conducting it personally – so you'd better have been good,"
Haruhi shuddered. The nurse assigned to her had been cold but kind – there was nothing merciful in the voice of this old man. The redheaded boy saluted and nodded, stepping back in his row.
"Today is a very special day. A new student has joined our hallowed halls," said the old man, "A very special student,"
Haruhi stiffened and considered whether playing dead would help her. That drill sergeant, with all his terrifying authority, was about to call everyone's attention to her. She was going to be exposed to the eyes of all those roughed-up strangers, judged and appraised.
There isn't much to see anyway, said Kosaka's voice inside her head, snapping and mocking, and Haruhi prepared herself.
"This student's family is currently at the top of the Authorities' list, and is considered a top priority. This student is tainted. You have Ouran's board permission to address this student as and it – no longer human. It has no rank. It will have no marks. It will have no rest," the old man coughed roughly, wetly, and covered his mouth with the gloved palm of his hand. The fit only enraged him more, "It will have NO rest until every single one of its associates is caught and punished! Do you hear me?"
"AYE," said the mass, like one man.
Haruhi wanted to tremble, but she could not move. She could barely move her lips at the same time as the others. The old man was walking down the row, and soon he would be in front of her and would point her out to all the others.
"It will have no friends. It will have no teachers. And it will not fall under the eye of the law,"
Cold terror seeped into Haruhi's bones. Not being under the eye of the law meant that any recording that featured the condemned party would not be valid as a proof of crime. If somebody beat her, and it was caught on camera, it might as well have been whispered to the wind. The old man was giving her inmates permission to practically kill her with impunity.
He stepped closer and closer. He was now directly in front of Bowl Cut, and the next time he spoke he screamed on the boy's face, who didn't even flinch.
"Until every person in its family is in the hands of the Authorities! Do you understand, students?"
"AYE!"
Another step, and he was facing Haruhi. He was going to tell her to step forward, so that everyone could see her. She told herself that she would not react, that she would not tremble and that she would not cry. She would be still as the earth
which you will soon inhabit
and indifferent like the stars, and she would not make a sound, even if the old man hit her or insulted her any further.
His breath was ragged and whistling, and his throat trembled when with every intake of air. His breath smelled like dry beetles and aspirin and something else, something wet and rotten and sickly sweet lay beneath. She saw with fascination how his lips crinkled and split, how his teeth were impossibly white and straight and sharp for his age, and she braced herself for what was to come.
"Ritsu Kasanoda!" he shouted, and it was only because one of her neurons was still working that Haruhi did not step up again in reflex, so convinced she was that she was about to be marked.
Wait, what?
The old man had passed her by, and she risked a glance at both sides of her classmates, to see another boy, tall and knobby, muscled and long-haired and furious-looking, standing alone. Haruhi felt inexplicably grateful that she was not the one being called, and then her joy mixed with terrible guilt and sadness and rage.
"Take a good look at it. I forbid you to forget this face. I forbid you to show it kindness. I forbid you to acknowledge it, in any way, until its whole clan has answered for its crimes,"
To punctuate his words, the old man unsheathed the fire baton that he wore at his hip and he hit Ritsu Kasanoda hard behind his knees. The boy fell, and while he was fallen, the man hit him harder than his crackling frame could possibly allow across the back. Haruhi's felt her fingernails cutting the skin on the palm of her hands like it was butter. She swallowed a prayer, and tried to think that at least the old man had not warmed the baton before punishing Kasanoda, that at least his skin and his flesh would not burn.
That could have been me.
Don't be ridiculous – you did not do anything.
Maybe that boy did not do anything either. Maybe it was only his family.
Just like it was only your father?
The old man kept hitting Kasanoda until they boy grunted, and then he stopped and carefully reattached his fire baton to his belt.
"Welcome to Ouran, beast," and then, clapping his heels he addressed the Dormitories.
"Report to your first morning class. Dismissed!"
As soon as the old man left, bowl-cut boy turned to her. Haruhi saw the Hitachiin boy and two girls – one with pigtails and an inauspicious semi-smile, another one with curly hair and sharp glasses- disappearing behind the man into the corridor. Kasanoda was uncurling from his fetal position on the floor, and Haruhi saw with great relief that the students were just ignoring him instead of using those minutes before class to hurt him further.
"You were SO lucky that he did not actually inspect us today," said the boy with the square glasses, reaching out, "Where the fuck is your wristcell?"
"My what?"
"You are Fujioka, right?" asked the long-haired girl. She had a sweet round face and a very kind and efficient smile. Haruhi felt better just looking at her "Low risk student? Arrived last night?"
"Yes,"
"Low-risk students are allowed a wristcell," she said, pulling up the sleeve of her own uniform and showing her a dark gray rubber circlet dotted with blinking lights. "It is, of course, a tracking device – but you can also use it to navigate the school, track your spending and your salary…"
"Wait, what? Spending and salary? I thought I was a ward –"
The boy rolled his eyes, and the girl shrugged. "Walk with us. We will get you your wristcell. We are Dormitory 1 delegates and supposed to take care of the new arrivals anyway,"
Haruhi glanced at Kasanoda, who was leaning on the wall, rubbing the back of his legs and putting on a very convincing stone face.
"You heard Vice Principal Kazama," said the boy, with deep bitterness barely concealed with his martial stance. "Non-person status until further notice,"
"He probably prefers to be ignored right now," said the girl, softer, "Wouldn't you?"
Haruhi found it hard to argue her point.
"I'm Momoka Kurakano," said the girl, stepping in on Haruhi's right.
"Kazukiyo Soga," said the boy, taking her right side. "Anyway, just because you are a ward it does not mean that you don't have to pay your way. We all do. The uniform, the food, the security measures-"
" The pods, the wristcells -"
"- they all cost money. You are lucky because you are allowed to work and apply that salary towards your upkeep, so if you work hard you will leave with only a minor debt, or even some savings,"
"That's nice," said Haruhi, trying to pay attention to her surroundings. The corridors were surprisingly pretty, with slender stone pillars and tall glass paneled windows – that were nonetheless very dirty. They overlooked a courtyard with a dry square depression on the middle. Beyond the fence stood handful of buildings that looked right out of an old-fashioned fairytale (only much grayer), and if she squinted she could see the tiny dots of other inmate-students heading out to the fields. Some of them were so small that they had to be very small children.
"Those at mid or high risk are not allowed to work, or their salary goes towards repaying the cost of their crimes to society. So when they leave, be it to the world or to another institution, they will still carry their debt,"
"I can't believe they didn't give you a wristcell last night. Nurse Okai never forgets anything. What's wrong with your eyes?" asked Kurakano.
"Flash,"
"Ah – yes, right. Poor you. Well, if you start tearing up blink really fast and nobody will notice,"
They arrived to a tall and narrow metal door. Soga put his wristcell against a small panel that was next to the door frame. A green light blinked both on his wristcell and the panel.
"Object of your visit?" said a light voice through the panel.
"Retrieval of wristcell for new student," said Soga.
"Permission granted. Please proceed. Time to your next slotted activity – less than 2 minutes,"
"Prepare to run really fast after he comes out," adviced Kurakano, "Or we will be late,"
"Ok," The door slid open and Haruhi saw a tall and narrow storage room lit only by the blinking lights of the robot shelvers. One of them scanned Soga from head to toe, and then slid back on interconnecting rails to retrieve Haruhi's wristcell.
"What's our first class?"
"Modified History," said Kurakano "It only appeared on the schedules last week, so you should be fine,"
"That's weird. My old school has not taught History for decades,"
"Yeah, well, that's what we thought –" the small robot came back with a plastic circlet between its pincers. Soga gestured to Haruhi to come forward, and she instinctually extended her arm and let the mechanical creature come closer. "It's not exactly useful, but it helps pass the time," the robot extended its pincers and slid the wristcell around Haruhi's naked wrist. The cold rubber warmed immediately and tightened against her skin.
"It's taking your pulse and other data," said Kurakano. Soga had already step out of the storage room and was poising himself to run. "They may look alike, but each wristcell is assigned to just one person and it cannot be hacked by another,"
The lights on the wristcell lit up one by one. There were seven in total, in the seven colors of the rainbow. They twinkled, almost as a salute, and then the grip relaxed. Haruhi felt the blood flowing back into her hand.
"Welcome to Ouran, Haruhi Fujioka," said the robot. "Estimate time to your next slotted activity – 40 seconds,"
"Run!" yelled Kurakano.
She took Haruhi's hand and pulled hard. The three of them dashed through the corridors and up the stairs, which were now almost empty of other students or teachers. Haruhi started panting barely 10 seconds after they had started their sprint. She was not used to physical activity.
Soga turned a corner, and just then they were overtaken by Hikaru Hitachiin – and his mirror image. Haruhi barely had time to think "twins" and then they had arrived to their destination, a large door that someone had cared a lot about in the past – ornate and barroque – but that now was surrounded by functional security panels and marked with a simple 1-A sign.
The twins, who had not even glanced in the trio's direction, went in first and immediately sat down in the middle of the classroom. Soga got in second, but instead of looking for a seat he proceeded to the front and quickly typed something on a wall console. Haruhi saw rows of numbers and signs reflected on his glasses.
"Sit wherever you want," said Kurakano, "But beware of the Hitachiins, they are fun but can be really mean,"
Kurakano joined Soga at the front of the classroom and used her wristcell to light up a second console on the other side of the wall. Synchronizing their movements, they pushed a button, and the lights went out. The blurry hologram of a middle-aged woman wearing a positively antique green cardigan and mid-calf skirt materialized. Haruhi, who had found a seat at the back of the class, noticed with mild interest that she was smoking a cigarette.
"Hello, monsters," the lips of the hologram moved, but the sound came from all over the classroom. One of the Hitachiins hooted at it, the other laced his fingers and leant his chin on them. "Today we are going to be discussing historical legislative changes regarding enhanced interrogation techniques and their influence on the modification of the human genome,"
"Torture and mutants –" said one of the twins, followed by the other Hitachiin.
"– those are a few of my favorite things,"
Modified History was fascinating but practically useless. Haruhi felt frustrated by her inability to take notes, and annoyed at the sarcastic personality of the simulation. She was uncomfortably aware of how the hologram listed the legislative adjustments that had been made through history to allow for new interrogation and counter-terrorism techniques with just a tiny hint of distaste disguised with the intake of smoke. Holograms were not supposed to have personalities; they were supposed to present the facts in the most objective possible fashion that would not create dissent. Haruhi, who was used to memorizing facts and figures that applied only to the everflowing here and now, did not appreciate the avalanche of previous versions of the law and the many-branched consequences of its subversion.
Because, what good did it do to know that fifty years ago humans had debated decrees and laws in the arena of the parlament? That had been a waste of time and resources. The Authorities System was much more efficient, shuffling current information and adjusting the laws to every individual situation, and taking the responsibility away from human hands. It was not perfect (moms sometimes died on slabs) but it was better than they'd had in the past.
Her other classes were only slightly more practical, but still weird and offbeat. She had Biology (where they learned the names and genus of edible plants, as well as animal husbandry for long-extinct animals), Physics (with a focus on Materials), Languages (computer ones – and Haruhi learned to her horror that she was supposed to start by memorizing binary code) and, to her utter astonishment, World Geography, another long-dead subject in schools everywhere.
In the life that she'd lead only 24 hours before, she would have been learning Statistics, Epidemiology, Law Systems and Application, Modern Allied Languages, Civic Responsibility and Economics. The kind of subjects that would actually prepare her for the State Exams.
It took her two hours to come to the realization that officer Kosaka had been lying. She would never be able to become a lawyer even if she had planned to stay in Ouran, because Ouran did not prepare its students for the system on the outside. If she graduated, she would be terribly unskilled for every aspect of the real world.
As if she needed another reason to find a way out fast.
The worst class of the day was, hands down, PE, and it was also the only class held by flesh-and-bone teachers instead of holograms. It took place just before lunch and it lasted two hours. In the beginning, Haruhi thought that it was nice to be outside under the sunny sky instead of walking within Ouran's weaponized walls, but five minutes into the drill she would have insulted the sun if she'd had any air left in her lungs.
She focused on trying to memorize the campus instead.
The instructor, a tall and dark young man, guided them in an hour-long run across rice and barley fields. Other students were working in them, most of them with primitive-looking tools. Haruhi sneaked a glance at Kurakano, whose breath was ragged but even.
"We have field work every other day instead of PE," she said, "But early in the morning. We are lucky,"
By the third field Haruhi's throat was on fire and her knees were fit to explode. She bent over on the way back from the fourth field, but only air and bile came out. She had not eaten anything since her dinner the night before.
Only sixteen hour ago she had been home. Only twenty six hours ago she had seen her dad for the last time.
Her stomach contracted harder, and more air came through. The rest of the group was at least a hundred meters away. She had to get up, or…
…or she could make a run for it. She could see the Ouran fences barely fifty meters away from where she was standing. If she rushed –
"Up,"
A shadow covered her, and she looked up. It was the instructor. He had very short, almost buzzcut black hair, broad shoulders and a fire baton across his chest. The tag on his uniform read "Morinozuka – 3A".
He was a student too. What was a student doing with a fire baton?
She looked at his wristcell –because there was one- but it did not blink like Soga's or Kurakano's. He was not a delegate. He was something else.
She stood up on wobbly legs. A soft breeze cooled her cheeks. How foolish had been her last thoughts. She could barely keep herself together, and she had wanted to run away in plain sunlight? A drone would have shot her down in less than ten seconds, if it had taken her that long to collapse and start throwing up air again. She was lucky that Morinozuka had turned up.
"Run," said Morinozuka, barely shaking his head in the group's direction. His stance was calm and severe, and there was no aggression in his orders. He sounded almost reasonable –although her drumming heart was telling Haruhi that his request was not reasonable at all.
But she started running. He did not look like he was going to use the fire baton on her – his hands were behind his back, but better safe than sorry. She forced her throbbing leg muscles to go up and down again, and her lungs to breathe in and out, and she moved.
She lasted a minute before bending over again.
This time, she did not even look to the fence. The rows of growing grains, with their teeming insect life, were more than enough.
That was the first time that Haruhi had seen an insect, other cockroaches and flies up-close. An earthworm wiggled and sunk into the soil under the roots of a tall plant. The air caressed the barley. Haruhi's chest heaved and she felt two strong hands on her shoulders.
"Done?"
She nodded, too weak to speak. Morinozuka handed her a handkerchief, made of the same light material as the regulatory underwear, and she dried her mouth and the sweat on her face and neck. The group had stopped a few hundred meters away and the students were doing push-ups on their own. She took off her glasses, dried the sweat that had caught on her eyebrows and lashes with her eyes tightly closed – she noticed that they were tearing up on their own, just as the nurse had predicted – but she wanted to be free of the weight of the glasses for a moment. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Her throat was parched.
Morinozuka had knelt down, and was crunching something on the palm of his hand with the help of a stone. He stopped for just a second to hand Haruhi a bottle of water.
"Drink,"
She drank, grateful, but the uncomfortable drumming on her chest did not diminish. She felt cold and hot all over. She had never been required to exercise in her life.
Morinozuka finished what he was doing, and extended his palm to show her a bunch of fine bone-white powder. He dipped his calloused fingertip on it and pressed it once under each of Haruhi's nostrils.
"Breath,"
The effect was immediate. The burning and the shivering melted in a warm glow, and she stopped feeling the pain in her joints and at the soles of her feet. She felt light-headed and filled with air and sun, and every sound, every scent, every glimmer of the sun on the grain was a jewel. She reached to touch the skin above her upper lip in amazement, but Morinozuka shook his head.
"Now, run,"
They had lunch in a round room made of glass. Haruhi, through the rosy glow of the drug that the instructor had pressed on her, did not feel hungry at all, and was actually happy about it. Now that she knew that she had to pay for everything she consumed in Ouran, she'd rather be as frugal as she could. Just in case her plans to escape took longer than expected.
Kurakano and Soga sat together, as did the Hitachiins. Neither of them looked towards Haruhi, who decided to go back outside and try to figure out how to join a work group other than the mandatory morning field work.
She had seen Soga addressing his wristcell to request lessons in the classroom, and, once she was out of earshot of her fellow students, she raised it to her mouth and whispered "work".
The wristcell's yellow light blinked twice, and a neon yellow thin tube that ran through the walls lit up. It lead her back the way she came, to the glass room / cafeteria and through a door on the opposite side of the fields view.
She entered the kitchens, and vapor immediately misted her glasses. She took them off to clean them on her uniform, and when she put them back a small blond child was in front of her.
"Name and class," he said with a stern tone very different from his sweet face. It was streaked with very fine white powder, almost like military make-up. He had a wristcell that lit up intermitently like Soga's. A delegate.
Haruhi blinked. The tag on the boy's uniform said "Haninozuka – 3A". Same as Morinozuka. She stood at attention.
"Fujioka – class 1A. I requested work to my wristcell and it brought me here,"
"It brought me here, sir," corrected the midget. "Just in time. Can you cook?"
Ah, that might be a little problem.
"I know how to heat water and how to use a 3D food printer, sir,"
Haninozuka shook his head in despair. "Sweet ancestors, you are one of those spoiled rotten newbies," Haruhi felt heat rise to her cheeks, and she held her hands tighter behind her back. "I will rephrase that question. If I give you a knife and tell you to cut vegetables will you manage to cut the turnips and not your fingers as well as to repress your natural impulse to stab every other kitchen hand?"
"Of course, sir," Haruhi said, confident about her knife-handling prowess. "I will do my best, sir,"
"Great! Here is the knife," he handed her a glistening monstrosity with a blade larger than her forearm, "And there are the turnips," he pointed at a group of at least twenty waist-high buckets overflowing with the root vegetable. "You have four hours to peel them all for dinner. Try not to bleed," he examined her eyes, not unkindly, "Or cry too much over them. They taste bad enough without any extra condiments. Do you want to be paid with credits or with sugar?"
Haruhi blinked. Was that a joke? Sugar? What use did she have for sugar? She doubted that dental care was stellar inside Ouran's walls.
"Before you answer, I must tell you that this month we have access to leftover Winter Holidays candy, almost fresh from Tokyo. The candy canes are a little crushed, and most of the flavors are peppermint and gingerbread and, lord of popsicles, eggnog, but other than that they are almost 100% pure,"
"Pure what, sir?"
"Pure sugar, of course. So?" he winked an eye at her. Looking around, Haruhi saw that the other twenty or so kitchen aids all had lollipops on their mouths, or were popping gummy bears, or chewing the heads off plainly decorated gingerbread men. But she was still not hungry.
"Credits, sir,"
"Are you sure?" he asked in a sing-song tone. Some of the kitchen hands giggled.
"100% sure, sir," Haruhi said. She had never cared for sweets. Haninozuka sighed, as if she had tripped over the extremely low bar that he used to measure people's worth, and handed her a hair net. Haruhi fixed it over her head, pulling the bangs away from her glasses. He spoke to his wristcell. "Fujioka, 1A, Approved Kitchen Access,"
"Then get started. Four hours of unskilled labor will award you 400 credits. That should cover your school expenses for today. A very wise choice," he said gladly, tying his apron with a very simple knot, "but maybe not the right one,"
She bled over a few turnips before getting used to the huge knife that Haninozuka had given her. She had to cut the roots into thin circles and put them in the large pots that the other kitchen hands pushed close to her station as they finished washing them after the lunch shift. She had to add the turnips to the bottom until they covered about a third of each pot, then settle them on the protein station, where the dinner-shift chef would add other ingredients.
Two hours into the job, everybody was done with work and Haruhi had only managed to fill a handful of pots. She was alone in the kitchen, and except for her soft breathing and the sound of the knife against the chopping board, all was silent. She was never going to be able to complete that task on time.
She heard the hesitant footsteps before she saw him, and her knife stopped in mid-air. She had to make a conscious effort to bring it back down, to continue chopping as if she had seen nothing.
Kasanoda was watching her from the door. Beyond his head she could see the glass cafeteria and then, further down, the darkening fields. He didn't say anything, and Haruhi did not know what to say, or if she was allowed to say anything at all to him.
She finally looked up and nodded, and he came in, limping and holding on to stools and tables. Haruhi's guilt and pity blossomed like a drowned flower, and she looked at him in the eye and nodded again, pointing her eyes to the short parapet offered by the assembly of buckets of turnips. He hobbled over and sat down on the floor, crouched his back and closed his eyes twice in gratefulness.
Officer Kosaka's advice came back to her. She should not be alone and vulnerable in Ouran. She should not join a gang. She dismissed the cold voice of the policewoman, and instead opened the loudest faucet in the kitchen to drown all sound. Just in case, she gestured to Kasanoda instead of speaking, crouching down till her eyes were level with his. She pointed at her mouth and then rubbed her stomach. He shook his head, and looked hopeful, although his lips remained tight and serious.
Haruhi walked over to the locked fridge that held leftover food from the lunch shift. The rations inside would be either recycled or composted or fed to the night-shift workers. She lifted her wristcell to the fridge panel, and it opened with barely a click. She took out two portions of rice with soy cubes. If Haninozuka questioned her, she would say that those were her allotted portions and that she had paid for them with her work anyway – she should be free to do whatever she wanted with them. She got a pair of chopsticks from a drawer, and walked back to the boy hiding over to the turnip fortress.
Kasanoda snatched the rations from her hands and ate them greedily, barely stopping to breath between bites. She resumed her chopping while he devoured the rice.
It did not take him long, and Haruhi could feel his eyes on the back of her neck. It made her nervous. She knew nothing about him. He could be planning to flee – just like she was. But he looked a lot more ruthless, and the way the Vice Principal had welcomed him did not make her think that he came from a family pursued for political dissention.
She shook those thoughts away. Nobody deserved to be treated like an animal. Nobody chose their families. Kasanoda could not be much older than she was. She had fed him. That was all.
Except that he stood up and suddenly pushed her hard against the same fridge that she had just opened for him. The attack was so sudden that Haruhi could not even scream before her head hit the metal and his hand clasped over her mouth, stifling all sound. She even forgot that she was holding a huge knife until the moment when his hand closed around his wrist, pressing a tendon that relaxed her whole fist, and her only weapon clattered on the floor. He took her wristcell hand and pulled it into the sink full of water, under the loud faucet.
He held her like that for at least a minute. Her wet hand started to go numb from the cold.
"You are new too," he finally said. His voice was deep and it rasped, as if he had screamed or inhaled a lot of smoke in the last hours.
Haruhi nodded.
"So you want to leave?"
Haruhi saw no point in denying it. She shrugged, holding his gaze.
"Don't. There are drones flying all over the fields and beyond, all the way down to the city,"
Haruhi rolled her eyes. She had figured that out on her own.
"The only way out is to the sea," he added. "And there are no ships in the sea – too dangerous,"
"I'm going to take the knife now," said Kasanoda, "But I'm only going to use it to cut down those fucking turnips, because you just helped me and that's what's fair. I don't hate these people enough to have them eating finger stew tonight. OK?"
Haruhi nodded again, and Kasanoda dropped both of her hands, crouched to take the huge knife from the floor and turned around, walking to the cutting station. He started chopping off perfect circles at lightning speed, as Haruhi watched him from the fridge, wondering if he was going to keep the knife and how could she possibly take it back if he did before anyone noticed.
Kasanoda left (without the knife, for Haruhi's relief), when there was only half a bucket left, "so that it wouldn't smell fishy." The chef in charge of the night shift was Matsuyama, one of the girls that had been designated for a surprise inspection that morning, and she looked impressed with Haruhi's progress.
"I hate those things - they are so bland. But still, fresh produce. We should count our blessings. You did a great job, Fujioka. I would tell you to go to enjoy dinner, but I see that you already had your rations,"
"I was very hungry," said Haruhi, looking at her feet. Matsuyama nodded with sympathy. She had piled her two braids on top of her head before covering them with the kitchen net. "If you have Morinozuka as a sports instructor, I know why you were hungry. Still, I cannot give you anything else – wait," she reached inside one of her uniform's pockets and pulled out a perfectly rounded mandarin orange the size of her fist, which still had a few leaves attached. "Here. Enjoy,"
And then she touched her mouth with her index finger, and said something that Haruhi had not heard for at least ten years, from her mother's lips.
"May the kinder months be long,"
"May the starlight warm our winters," Haruhi answered automatically, stunned.
Matsuyama laughed and dismissed her with a martial salute, as if she had not just uttered the most unexpected poem in the world, and Haruhi left the kitchen holding the mandarin orange as if it was a living creature made of glass, counting it as a blessing.
Her wristcell buzzed and the blue light came up, followed by a blue tube down the wall. Haruhi followed it to the nurse's office, concealing the mandarin in the many folds of her oversized uniform.
The door to her office opened silently. Nurse Okai was typing at her console, and a pale, dark-haired student with glasses was –apparently- taking inventory of the medicine cabinet. He looked down to Haruhi with mild interest and then resumed his task with cool efficiency. His tag read "Ootori – 2A".
"Please, take off your uniform," ordered the nurse. "You can keep your underwear; this is not going to be a cavity search. I'm just going to weigh you,"
"But you just weighed me last night," said Haruhi, stalling for time. The Ootori boy pointedly took a set of rolled up syringes, unrolled and counted them, one by one. He then typed the amount in a small tablet.
"It's for security purposes. We have to make sure that you have not lost any significant mass since you came in. Some students have been used as mules for all kinds of substances in the past,"
"I see," said Haruhi, still hesitating. Ootori clicked one last button and the tablet shut down. He was done with his inventory, and he stepped from behind the nurse's slab to stand at attention, hands behind his back and a servile half-smile.
"Take off your uniform off now, Fujioka, or I will have to tell my assistant to take it off for you," said the nurse. "We don't have the time nor the inclination for a civil purity show," she grumbled as Haruhi slipped out of her shoes and zipped down the front of her uniform. She folded it carefully on top of the slab.
"Good. Now step on the scale. Ootori, please note down if there is any weight difference from today at 2 AM,"
The scale beeped, and Haruhi blurted out, suddenly fearing that the nurse might think that she had smuggled something inside, "I did not eat anything today and we run four fields,"
"The system will take it into account," said Ootori, taking her wrist with his gloved hands and clicking it against the tablet. The blue light lit up. "Or it would, if it was true. Nurse Okai, Fujioka consumed her two allotted rations during her kitchen shift,"
"Trying to get an extra portion, huh? Spoiled city brats," said the nurse. Haruhi blushed, and nodded. She would probably be in even worse trouble if they knew about Kasanoda.
"Yes, madam. I'm sorry, madam. I'm just so hungry,"
"Your body will have to adjust," nurse Okai addressed Ootori, "Results?"
"No significant weight changes,"
"Excellent. Did you study the eye diagrams last night?"
"Yes, nurse Okai,"
"Do you want to do her eye examination?"
"I will do my best, nurse Okai,"
"I will go and join the other officers for dinner, then. When you are done, close the office and escort Fujioka to the Dormitories. I want her in her pod in one hour,"
"Yes, nurse Okai,"
"Good night, Ootori,"
Once the nurse left, all trace of servility disappeared from the boy. Haruhi felt it lifting like a cloak. He ordered her to sit on the slab and look up to him, and he took off her glasses and put them next to her, unfolded and lying on the glass.
"Be careful," she said, reaching out to straighten them. He smacked her hand with the tablet, not very hard but firmly enough. She let them lay. " But I need those," she said.
Ootori was washing his hands and forearms meticulously, water and antiseptic up to his elbows. He dried them just as carefully, and put on fresh clinical gloves.
"Not for long. Look up and don't blink," said Ootori. Holding her face with one hand, he applied one drop to each eye. Haruhi heard a click, and saw a blue light moving,
"Notice anything different from yesterday?"
"I can see colors without the glasses," said Haruhi, following the blue dot.
"That is a favorable sign. Look sideways," Haruhi obeyed, and Ootori tilted her head just a little. "What about now?" he asked.
"I can't see anything,"
"No peripheral vision," he said aloud, probably to the medical diary. And then, in exactly the same tone and moving her head to the opposite side, "I know that it wasn't you who ate your rations,"
"What? Of course I did. I just confessed," as if to betray her, Haruhi's stomach groaned and gurgled. She blushed again, and bit her lip, then tried not to bite her lip because that looked definitely guilty. Ootori chuckled, and she heard him ripping plastic, tapping something. The blue dot had dissappeared.
"Don't move. I'm about to drive a very big needle into your optic nerve to accelerate the healing process tenfold. You do not want me to miss, do you?"
"No," said Haruhi with a very weak voice. The fact that she could not see a thing made everything worse – she remembered the size of the syringues that he had been counting and she could perfectly imagine the needle.
"Your weight was lower than it should have been after lunch and dinner, and you do not fit the profile of a living mule. So the question is, if you didn't eat your rations, who did? There was nobody else in the kitchen – I checked the records – and it was definitely your wristcell that opened the fridge door," he stabilized her whole head between his elbow and his palm, and Haruhi felt a terrible pressure on her left eye. She moaned.
"Be still. It will be over soon," said Ootori. "There is only one non-person in the premises. I hope that you have not been feeding the beast,"
The pressure stopped. "Do not touch your eye," said Ootori. "I'm highly competent but I have no cure for injuries derived from stupidity,"
"How do you know that?"
"I am a sysadmin," said Ootori, simply. Haruhi did not know what that meant. "I have access to everything that everyone does – especially anyone that enjoys the advantages of a wristcell,"
He nestled her head on the nook of his other arm, and repeated the operation. Haruhi was ready for the pressure of the needle this time. She gritted her teeth, and counted down from ten. The pain lasted eleven.
Her eye sockets felt battered and swollen, but she could sense the shape of things beyond the fog. It hurt, though. She closed them again. Ootori let go of her head and she heard him unfolding her uniform.
"Not to mention, those glasses you are wearing?" Ootori went on through the soft rustling of fabric "They capture everything you see and store it for later. Officer Kosaka must not trust you, or maybe she hopes to entrap you so that you can help her catch your father. You should keep your eyes closed. The light is too bright right now,"
Haruhi's heart sank. She thought about her day, about all the things that she had done and looked at and said, and she was horrified. She had considered escaping and looked to the fields beyond the fence. She had discussed it with THE only person that she was not supposed to acknowledge. A stupid act of kindness that was going to backfire spectacularly.
"At the very least, your low-risk status will be revoked. At the worst - " he softly slid Haruhi's legs into the uniform pants and gently pushed the small of her back so that she stood up again. "- at the worst you will be taken away from Ouran and turned against your family. You can cry if you want, it's good for your eyes. Just don't touch them," Haruhi put her hands along her sides, and he put his hand on her shoulder. "I'll walk you to your pod,"
"Why are you telling me about the glasses?"
"Would you have preferred not to know?" Ootori asked as he closed the door. Two short beeps. Haruhi felt the weight and the shape of the mandarin orange along her left thigh, bouncing as they walked.
"No, what I mean is that you don't know me. You have no reason to be nice,"
"Oh. Those are two grave misconceptions. First of all, I do know who you are," they turned left, "Haruhi Fujioka, 15, ward of the Authorities, dead mother, missing father, first of her class for nine years straights, wants to be a lawyer – sorry, wanted to be a lawyer, because if you are as smart as your records state you have probably realized that "lawyer" is not a career option that is available to you anymore. Am I missing something?" Ootori pet her shoulder twice, false sympathy if there ever was. "To the right now, honor student, and then we will go down three flights of forty seven steps each. Mind your feet - the nurse station is closed for the night,"
They were going down – Haruhi knew that they had gone far deeper and beyond the Dormitory level and the air around her was growing stale and cold. He was not guiding her to her pod.
"Where are we going?"
"Your second statement, that I have no reason to be nice to you, is also wrong. I have eighty million reasons. How are your eyes feeling, by the way?"
"Better. Where are we going? And what do you mean by eighty million reasons? Because I'm not rich. I don't care what you think life in Tokyo is like, you eat better here than I ever did at home," she shrugged her shoulder out of Ootori's grip and, although she regretted it immediately, tried to back up the way they had come. She reached out with her hands, feeling for a wall, anything to hold on to, anything at all. When Ootori spoke again, he did not raise his voice, but Haruhi felt the iron beneath the velvet as if he was pointing it directly at her heart.
"Calm down and take my hand, Fujioka. You could trip, and the fall is long,"
But she'd had enough for a day.
"Where are we?" asked Haruhi. "I'm tired of being dragged around like a thing! The last 24 hours have been the worst of my life and just because I can't see anything it doesn't mean that you people," she backed up the stairs again, almost tripping like he had predicted, "can treat me like an animal that you can just carry around,"
"Then stop behaving like a frightened dog," she shook her head and backed up one more step, but her stupid uniform caught on something, something that ripped and snapped, and her feet flew from under her and then she was falling.
Ootori caught her. Haruhi could feel his quiet anger seething through his palms, and she was almost sure that he was going to hit her. But the anger lifted after a moment, just like his false servility had, and the presence on the other side was just collected and professional and calm. He wiped the involuntary tears off her cheeks with his thumbs, and then tilted her head up and down, to one side and to the other, probably checking her eyes again.
"I told you so," he said, and Haruhi's mouth twitched up involuntarily in a nervous smiles. He laughed softly. "You do not know anything about me and you don't have to be nice. You do not have to trust me either, but right now you do not have any alternative. So here is what I propose: listen to us, for only thirty minutes, and then you can decide for yourself what you want to do with the rest of your life,"
The descent lasted years, and neither of them said anything else for a while, until Ootori talked again.
"You are probably still in shock about yesterday's events, which is why I will not take your little upflare into any consideration, but I hope for your own good that intelligent activity will soon resume between your ears,"
"You should work on your bedside manners if you want to be a doctor. That's the worst get-well-soon that I have ever heard,"
"Who said that I wanted to be a doctor?" They hit the bottom of the staircase, and the floor was even harder and colder, and slightly irregular. Haruhi had the feeling that they were walking on rugged concrete.
She could smell them from a hundred meters away – the electric burning scent was unmistakable, as was the buzzing sound, like a million bees working on a million flowers, and the gusts of warm wind on her face. The sound only got stronger as they came closer, and Haruhi's heart beat faster and faster, a bird facing the blades of a helicopter.
But surely not, it cannot be,
"You can open your eyes now – the light is dim enough," said Ootori, and she did. Her jaw dropped, and had his iron grip not been holding her up, she would have fallen to her knees. It was impossible, but in front of her there were the two massive pillar structures that ran Honshu, twin servers operational and running, their fans moving to cool their circuits and their lights blinking red, showing the world that they were alive. Through the circuits of those super machines ran the lives and deaths of the eighty million people of Honshu.
She was in front of the Authorities.
"Oi, Kyouya, who is that?" said a familiar voice from above.
"Yeah, we thought that you were going to bring THE Kasanoda," a red head appeared twenty meters above their heads, followed by a second, identical one. The twins, Hikaru and the other. They slid down identical ropes to the floor and landed like monkeys.
"It's Fujioka," said another voice, younger and kinder but no less surprised. "She cut up twenty six buckets of turnips today,"
"An admirable skill," said Ootori, letting go of Haruhi and walking towards the twins. "Change of plans. Where is Mori?"
"Hunting,"
"Ah. Well, I wouldn't want to interrupt him then. Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Haruhi Fujioka,"
"We already met her,"
"Yeah, she is in our class. In cahoots with Soga and Kurakano, we think,"
"Not much to look at,"
"Maybe if her uniform fit better," said one of the twins, zipping down the front of her uniform. Haruhi slapped his hand away. "Hey, I just wanted to see if you are as flat as you seem to be,"
"She is," said Ootori curtly. "And Tamaki?"
"Running late," said the twin that had not tried to manhandle Haruhi. "Are you a virgin? You totally look like one,"
"With hair like that, she must be," said his brother, ruffling hair. "And what's wrong with your eyes? They are all bloodshot and fucked up,"
Haruhi turned to Ootori, and he put his palms up. "All perfectly normal, I assure you. Tomorrow morning they will feel as new,"
"They don't look "as new" to me," said the other twin, coming closer. Haninozuka waved his hand in front of Haruhi's face.
"How many fingers am I holding up, Fuji-chan?"
"Just the middle one. Go to hell,"
He giggled and, to her annoyance, kissed her lightly on the cheek. "I think that you are awfully cute even if you are a virgin,"
"I told you that her eyes are fine," said Ootori. He was over by one of the Authorities, checking the red lights against some information in his tablet. "Now please, step away from them,"
"Yes, children," boomed a voice from the staircase. "Listen to your mother, and step away from our honored guest, who will be the key in opening the door to true freedom and justice, so that we can take back this terrible world that was promised to us as our kingdom and make it new again, like the eyes of this beautiful young woman,"
"Are you referring to me as the mother of these two?" asked Ootori with incredulity, looking from the approaching figure to the twins.
"And to her as beautiful?" asked a twin, pointing at Haruhi.
A young blond man came into the light. He was wearing only the pants of the uniform and the tank top covered his chest. His hair moved like wheat, and he had sparkling eyes filled with passion that Haruhi could have sworn were purple, but that was surely a trick of the intermittent red light of the Authorities. His work boots were so polished that they glistened, and Haruhi was so mesmerized by the shininess that she did not see how close he was until he was practically on top of her.
His face was an interesting mix. Haruhi could tell immediately that he was not purely Japanese, but that did not take away the charm from his features.
The slobbery kiss that he planted on her did that.
Haruhi felt palms on her cheeks, and then tongue, and then, to her horror, unwanted and unnecessary saliva, and she pushed him away with all her strength, galvanized by the terrible, terrible day that she was wearing on her shoulders.
Ootori cleared his throat. "Please. Everyone. Stay the hell away from her face until further notice,"
Tamaki, who had not even looked at Haruhi before planting one on her, noticed her eyes for the first time and made a grimace that he barely concealed before pulling away and muttering a very small ,"sorry,". He resumed his Don Juan posture while Haruhi wiped her mouth.
"Welcome to the Host Club, young maiden,"
"Not for long, if you let us do your hair!" hooted one of the brothers.
"Or we can let you do us for a small fee," said the other.
"A reasonable fee," corrected Ootori, still controlling the server. "Don't get into the habit of underselling yourselves,"
"Please ignore them," the blond guy sighed and leant against the closest Authority in a fetching pose. "They have no manners, having never lived outside the walls of Ouran, ignorant of the ways of the world,"
"What the fuck are you talking about? We were all born outside!" said the manhandling twin.
"In any case, fair maiden with eyes the shade blooming carnations, welcome," he smiled, and Haruhi almost felt disgusted with herself when her rage melted away, "I hope that you will help us in our quest,"
"What quest?"
"Were you not listening or what?" said one of the twins.
"We are going to take back the country," clarified the other.
"Using these beauties," Tamaki was almost bursting with pride as he softly knocked the server where he was resting.
And then it hit her. She had done the one thing that officer Kosaka had told her not to. That shit will follow you for the rest of your life, she had said, and Haruhi had grown overconfident and thought that she had been exaggerating, and now here she was.
She had joined a gang of madmen.
Fainting was not at all like she had pictured it. She felt a terrible weariness creeping down from her head. She just had enought time to decide to fall on her chest or on her back. She settled for her back, because if she fell on her front Ootori was going to throw a fit about the state of her eyes and she did not want to be awoken from her first fainting ever with a slap.