Chapter 4

Haruhi had never experienced time distortion before.

In her other life, every hour had lasted precisely one hour – and the tasks that had to be completed within each hour, every day, were clear and took exactly their allotted time. At the end of each one there was progress.

Ouran's time stretched like gum, creating neverending days looped with Sisyphean tasks. Pay attention to the holo's subversive babble, and learn nothing new from it. Weed the fields – five new plants growing for every one you pull by the roots. Run and fall, skin your palms and try to do one more push-up under Morinozuka's watch. Cut the vegetables without cutting your skin, pretending not to get Haninozuka's double entendres. Loop and circle the school looking for the exit. Do not develop an obsessive compulsive disorder every time that Vice Principal Kazama calls three names for a surprise cavity search. Sleep, repeat.

She had seen Kyouya once, two days after her visit down below – to examine her eyes, which had become functional almost overnight, and to take the glasses back to nurse Okai, who would send them to officer Kosaka.

She had seen Tamaki twice, the first time surrounded by a flock of girls as aggressive in their flirting as he was in his speeches. The second time it was in the Dormitories, just with one. If Haruhi'd had any doubts about what Kaoru and Kazue had been up to, Tamaki illuminated them. He was carrying the girl in his arms like a bride and whispering with his mouth pressed to the intersection of her neck and her earlobe. Her skin turned pink wherever he kissed her. They disappeared inside a pod, and Haruhi disappeared back into the corridor.

Hikaru did not even look in her direction. She was grateful for that, because she still wanted to pop his eyes out with a spoon. Kaoru did, and although the lines animating his face were kinder than Hikaru's, they only expressed acknowledgement.

Over the next weeks her eyes returned to being white and brown and black instead of red all over. She felt her body tightening and becoming more efficient, and her hands roughened with a million little cuts.

"You are so lucky," said Momoka Kurakano one dawn, as they were pulling weeds. "Now you look almost normal. The freckles suit you,"

"Thank you. I miss my hair though,"

"Why did you cut it?"

"I didn't – the police did,"

Momoka's mouth produced a small indignant "oh", and she used a very graphic word to describe what she thought about the police. Haruhi giggled. The sound, coming from her own mouth, was so strange that she startled, and kicked the sack of weeds in the process.

"What are you girls laughing about?" asked Kanan Matsuyama, who was applying ladybugs to the budding stems to control plagues. She had braided her hair in a crown around her head to keep it off the way while she worked, and the baby hairs that escaped glowed like a halo under the early spring sun.

"Momoka's toilet mouth," said Haruhi. The sky darkened – two drones flew over their heads, shaking the barley. They were flying lower and lower every day, in circles, like a pair of hawks looking for their chick. Haruhi wondered if the boys had completely disabled the raptor's tracker down below.

"Haruhi's awful haircut," said Momoka, retying her recycled hair band.

Matsuyama nodded and encouraged a ladybug to take her place in the stem with a puff of air. "Good – good. Someone had to say something about it. I didn't want it to be me, not with her handling knifes every evening,"

Haruhi put the weeds back into the sack, and then crouched to pull more plants out by their roots.

"It's not the way it looks," she explained, "It's the way it feels. It gets into my eyes all the time, it's too short to use elastics, it tickles, and it sticks to my face in PE – the only time it does not bother me is when I'm wearing the net in the kitchen, but I can hardly wear a net all day,"

"Sweetie, even a fishnet would look better than that,"

"Oh,"

"But it's not in the rules, so you can't do it. Tell you what – I'll re-cut it for you,"

Haruhi looked up into the eyes of the older girl, and she could read mild jest and good intentions, and nothing more. The drones were turning around in the sky, encircling the fields. "When?"

"Before lights out tonight if you want – I'll get some scissors from the hothouse,"

"Isn't that forbidden?"

Matsuyama rolled her eyes. "Of course. But I'm a delegate, and I'm supposed to take care of plants, so if a teacher stops me I can easily justify a pair of round scissors,"

"Could you do my hair too?" asked Momoka, touching her waist-length tips. "I always wanted to have bangs,"

"Your hair looks fine," replied Matsuyama. "But you can come and watch if you want,"

And that's how Haruhi found herself navigating the hundred rows of pods of Dormitory 3 an hour before lights out. It was a strange change in her routine. She usually went to bed straight from dinner (or work, if she'd taken the late shift in the kitchens), and as she was in the first row she did not really see any of her classmates. It was always either too early or too late. She always dressed and undressed inside the pod, and that's why she was surprised to see that most of the Ouran students hung out in different states of semi-nakedness at dark. With some exceptions, boys and girls tended to group separately, sitting on the open pods or the floor, using their pillows as couches, and dealing on

cot

sugar, sweets and fruit, magazines and rhythmic songs, powered by ten or twenty pairs of hands and feet. She passed some pods that were already closed for the night, and some where the other students were tackling and tickling each other, and she realized that for many of her classmates Ouran was the only home that they had ever had and the other inmates their only family.

She wondered if they feared the moment when they'd have to leave.

Kanan Matsuyama was sitting in her pod in her underwear, painting her toenails bright orange and talking to a very tall and very sickly looking boy whose jacket was zipped up to his Adam's apple. His hair was prematurely gray, and his cheeks and eyes were sunk with a green tinge. He said goodnight to Kanan as soon as Haruhi approached, and Kanan hung her painted feet over the pod and smiled at her.

"Come on, sit inside – I'm not going to put my pillow on the floor like those savages," she pointed at a group of third-year boys that were sneaking glances at her. Her braids were down. She took out the tiniest pair of round scissors that Haruhi had ever seen and snipped them in the air.

"Ready? Take off your jacket and sit on it – I don't want my pod covered in hair,"

Haruhi nodded and did as she was told. "Thank you very much for this. I just don't want it getting on the way – so don't waste time making it pretty,"

Kanan smiled again and smoothed the jacket under Haruhi's crossed legs. "I can do both, don't worry,"

"I brought the mandarin you gave me," said Haruhi, pulling it out of her pocket. "We can share,"

"Aren't you a doll? Do the honors,"

Matsuyama examined Haruhi's profile and asked her to turn her head a couple of times. She started by cutting the small strands that tickled her neck and ears, and progressed from there. Her mouth was set in a feminine curve, but her eyes were focused on the task.

She asked Haruhi about her life before Ouran, and Haruhi answered freely. Kanan asked her to put the mandarin sections in her mouth, because her hands were busy, and Haruhi obliged, feeling much better when her hair left her eyes and fell on her jacket.

"So rumor has it that you might be getting out soon," said Kanan, combing Haruhi's hair to the front to get a go at her crown. "Is it true?"

"I don't think so. They haven't found my father yet,"

"Sometimes, with ongoing investigations, officers come and go with students – as witness and whatnots,"

Haruhi did not doubt that officer Kosaka would come back, but it would surely be with bad news – or worse, with news that officer Kosaka considered good, such as that they had caught her dad.

"I don't think that's going to happen – why do you ask?"

"Well, if you do get out, even for a short visit to the city – or to the station- maybe you could do me a small favor," said Kanan, trimming away. "Send a holocard to a friend?"

"What friend?"

"A childhood friend – he was my sweetheart," said Kanan, following the curve of Haruhi's ear with the scissors. "It's difficult to stay in touch here – we can read some of the web but we cannot communicate. I would just like him to know that I'm fine – I have not seen him for almost ten years,"

"What's his name?"

"Takeshi Kuze,"

"I've heard about him!" said Haruhi, looking up.

"Have you?" said Kanan, her eyes shocked. "It's a very common name," she added. A blush appeared around her ears and ran down her neck and shoulders.

"Yes, but is he your age? His face is kind of –sharpish? Long nose?"

"Yes,"

"He tweets – all the boys at my old school followed him, he gives tips on how to stay strong despite the rations, and he has a web channel with workout programs, and recipes – this guy I'm talking about is obsessed with citrus fruit and –" Haruhi noticed the discarded mandarin peel, and the shade of Kanan's toenails.

"-oh,"

"Yes, it's him," said Kanan. "We lived in the same town, ten years ago,"

"Ah,"

"So will you do it?"

"Yes, but – if I send the holocard myself he will think that I'm just another fan. He might even discard it – he might not know it's you,"

"I'll tell you what to say,"

"And I'm not sure that I'm ever going to get out. You're in your last year – you might be out before I am,"

"Maybe. Let's cross our fingers," Kanan, whose blush had vanished with Haruhi's promise, produced a palm-sized round mirror with a black plastic frame. In its past life it had probably been attached to a vehicle. "I'm done. Look at yourself,"

Haruhi looked. Kanan had given her a short pixie cut with wispy limits above her ears and eyebrows. It did not get in the way.

"It's perfect," said Haruhi. "Thank you. You are very talented,"

Kanan punched her playfully in the arm. "You are welcome," her hand brushed away some hair that had stuck to Haruhi's skin, moving up to brush her neck and back, ending with her cheeks. She held her chin for a moment, pulling her closer as if to pick hair out of her face.

"You know – you are actually a pretty cute kid," said Kanan, arranging a strand behind her ears. "It was hard to see it at first, with the eyes and the hair – but you could also pass as a decent boy, if you wanted,"

Kanan's pupils were completely dilated, and Haruhi felt a strange emotion rushing towards her – she suddenly knew that she was going to be kissed by a girl, and she didn't know how she felt about it. Her breath smelled like mandarins, and her lips were plump and looked very soft. And, most importantly, unlike Tamaki and Kaoru, Kanan seemed to be waiting for her to signal that it was fine, that she wanted that too. Haruhi felt like a rabbit facing a giant glowing carrot. She wanted very much to bite it, but she had never seen one before in her life. The mental image made her giggle, which made Kanan laugh, which broke the spell.

A polite cough, followed by a long shadow, interrupted their mirth. Haruhi looked up, to see that the group of boys from before were shamelessly staring at them, mesmerized, and that Kyouya Ootori was standing above them with a quizzical eyebrow.

"I hope that I'm not interrupting anything important," said Kyouya. "But I must take Fujioka to her last ophthalmological exam," he pointed at her wristcell, and Haruhi saw that the blue light was blinking as fast as an attacking Inlaw.

"How responsible," said Kanan, nonplused. She locked the tiny scissors and the nail polish into a small compartment behind her pillow. Haruhi had never noticed that it was there, and she wondered if she also had one in her pod to keep small items, or if it was a delegate or a third year privilege. "Nurse Okai should put you up for promotion soon,"

"You will be the first to know if that happens. In the meanwhile, I must attend to my fetching duties. Fujioka, let's go,"

"Can't I go see the nurse tomorrow?" said Haruhi. "I want to go to bed, and my eyes are fine now,"

"I can see that," said Kyouya, with just a glint of mockery in his glasses, "but I have this feeling that you might want to get over it tonight," Haruhi's stomach turned at the force of the sheer hope that his emphasis conjured. She jumped out of the pod.

Surely not? They were just boys, playing rebels. They couldn't have –

"See you, and thanks," she said quickly to Kanan, being careful to take all the hair away in her folded jacket.

"Where are your slippers?" asked Kyouya.

"In my pod,"

"We'll get them on our way down," he said, and any doubts Haruhi'd had of what he was implying dissipated when she saw his half smile. Kyouya was so damn proud of himself that he was practically leaking smugness.

"Have you contacted my f-"

"We have been trying to contact you for almost twenty minutes," he scolded, booming through the rows of pods and covering her voice, pride turning to warning. Haruhi shut up. Nobody should know, and in her impatience she had forgotten. The Dormitories, all three of them, were packed. "Do you think we are your servants, princess?"

"No, sir," she said, playing the part and falling in step behind him.

"Because you are not in the city anymore – we have something called discipline here,"

A handful of girls overheard them and laughed. One of them winked at Kyouya and shouted "I would let you spank me, Doctoori!"

The students lounging in the pods around them wolf-whistled.

"I've been a very bad girl too!" added her friend. "Come back tonight and show me the rules!"

Kyouya smiled back at them, but it was not his honest demonic grin.

"Keep dreaming," he snarled under his breath, so heatedly that Haruhi put an armful of distance between them. "Get an appointment, and I will teach you anything you want," he said instead. The girls cracked up, and one of them rolled over inside her open pod, exposing her belly as he passed by. Kyouya ignored her.

He didn't stop for Haruhi to pull on her slippers either, just kept walking while she hopped behind, sliding them on. "Wait!" she asked.

"Hurry up," he ordered. They encountered two instructors on patrol, and he slowed down enough for Haruhi to catch up and straighten, saluting them as they went by. As soon as they turned the corner, Kyouya broke into a run, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the rhythm set by his long legs. "We only have five more minutes of satellite, and you don't want waste them,"

"The cameras," gasped Haruhi.

"They turn off as we pass,"

"How?"

He flashed his wristcell – all the lights were flashing red. "With this,"

Now that she could see, Haruhi could memorize the way down. They went into a dusty pink sitting room with large furniture covered with white sheets. Kyouya pushed a semi-hidden door, and they stepped into a smaller room. There were empty shelves, but the floor was covered with broken china. He opened an ancient fridge that barely reached his waist, but it wasn't a fridge – there were spiral metallic stairs leading below, alongside a metal pole.

Kyouya climbed to the rail of the stairs and got hold of the bar. Haruhi backed up against the closed door of the fake fridge.

"You can take the stairs – it will take you three minutes, if you are fast and don't trip. Or you can use the pole, and be down with us in five seconds. Your choice,"

"I've never –"

"Your choice," he repeated coldly, loosening his grip and sliding down in a quick swoop. Haruhi's wristcell was still blinking blue. She saw the top of his head disappear in the shadows. She could hear voices, but she couldn't see the floor.

Five minutes of satellite, he'd said. Did that mean that she would be able to talk to her dad for five minutes? To see him? To get a chance at finding him on the web or leave a message? What?

Whatever that meant, she was not going to lose three of those five minutes taking the stairs.

Haruhi set her jaw and climbed on the handrail. The tips of her fingers barely grazed the pole, and she felt her balance faltering, so she jumped like a frog, hitting her face with the metal but managing to encircle it with her whole body. Her heart thumped when she fell around the bar rather than slide. She tightened her hands and thighs around it, and then there was too much friction, it burned, but at least she was slowing down. And then she fell into a pair of warm naked arms.

"You made it!" said Tamaki, twirling her in the air and smiling like a madman, "And what an elegant haircut! You look dashing,"

"Hikaru, pay up!" said Kaoru from above in the server. "I told you she would use the pole,"

"Yeah – well, Tamaki caught her, so it doesn't count,"

"She didn't know that!"

Haruhi scrambled to get out of Tamaki's arms. She hit the ground running, following Kyouya's shape until they reached the servers. The lower levels had been repurposed to fit consoles, and the boys had even placed handmade chairs next to them to work more comfortably. However, Kyouya was standing, typing with one hand and setting up an ancient webcam with the other.

"Hikaru, Kaoru, get in front of your consoles now!" he said, "I want our drones jamming every other connection in ten seconds,"

"Drones?" asked Haruhi. A few weeks ago they'd only crashed one.

"Contagion effect – explain later. Tamaki!"

"I'm ready," said the blond, taking a martial stance in front of the camera. Kyouya pushed Haruhi in the chair, typed in a final password and went around the server, getting behind the twins with his tablet. Each of them was wearing a headset.

"Where are the "nozukas"?" asked Haruhi.

"On the fields, steering the drones, making this miracle possible," said Tamaki, his spine getting even straighter. The console's screen was completely black, with a small rectangle at the bottom. Concentric circles expanded within it, touching and stealing the color of wandering dots. When the last one turned grey, Hikaru announced, "Jamming complete,"

"Connecting with Sakhalin in three… two… one…" said Kyouya.

Tamaki put both hands on Haruhi's shoulders and squeezed. She had no idea of what she was going to see –she hoped it was her father- but Tamaki's hands were trembling just so. That wasn't very reassuring.

The red rectangle expanded and took over the screen, then faded to black. Haruhi looked up at Tamaki, who was looking at Kyouya.

"It didn't work!"

"That's impossible. We followed the procedure to the letter," said Kyouya, checking his tablet and the twins' screens. "Everything looks fine on our side,"

"But the screen is black and the timer is running," complained Tamaki.

Kyouya put his tablet on Kaoru's lap, and went over to check the wiring again, stretching over Haruhi's head.

"What is wrong? Have we been found out? They are going to put us in isolation, I know it," fretted Tamaki.

"Calm down, I'm 99% sure it's just a lag –"

"Good evening, comrades," said a voice with a very thick Russian accent.

Haruhi, Tamaki and Kyouya snapped their heads up. A hooded figure had appeared on the screen, so clearly that he could have been in the room with them. The hood came down to the top of its nose, covering most of its features, and it was using a voice distortion device – its tone was much lower than it was humanly possible.

"Shit," muttered Kyouya, getting away from the camera.

"Do not bother – I got a clear shot of your face," said the dark figure, smiling politely. "You might as well stay and join this chat,"

Kyouya answered off-camera, surveying the twins' screens. Their eyes were scanning the screens, focused on their task, whatever it might be. "Not when we have such a good face for the revolution. May I introduce you to Richard Grantaine?"

"And I guess that the younger one is Haruhi Fujioka?"

"Yes,"

The figure tapped its screen with a long finger, swiping it without leaving any trace. "You did an excellent job on her eyes, if I might say so. The iris mask, seamless,"

Haruhi startled. They would not have dared to mess with her only form of identification. Would they? She had to remember to ask them about it later.

"Thank you," said Kyouya. They had, the bastards. "Our link time is limited – maybe we should get to the point?"

"Ah, yes," the hooded figure laid back and crossed his fingers. Haruhi knew that he was addressing her now. "You may call me Nekozawa. I hear that you have been looking for your father, yes?"

"Yes,"

"Tricky business, a law estate is. Many unexplained disappearances. Bad for civilization,"

Haruhi stared at the screen, her jaw getting more and more tense. She was starting to suspect foul play. As far as she knew, this Nekozawa guy could perfectly be Haninozuka or Morinozuka hiding behind a mouthpiece and a cape, transmitting from inside the school.

"We are very grateful that you offered to help this innocent girl to locate her own flesh and blood," said Tamaki.

"Locate. Yes, I found a direct stream of where he is. But nothing is free, da?"

"Where is he?" asked Haruhi. "I don't have anything to give you,"

Kaoru rolled his eyes and Hikaru made a slicing motion across his throat.

"Fantastic negotiating skills," mumbled Kyouya.

The figure in black chuckled. He seemed highly amused by her faux pas.

"But you are rich in opportunity, Haruhi Fujioka. Soon to be out, I read here?" he tapped at the screen again, and an official police statement popped up. It was addressed to officer Kosaka – her fifteenth request to retrieve Haruhi for further interrogation had been accepted. She would be arriving to Ouran in two days, and she had forty-eight hours to get more information out of the missing suspect's daughter.

"I didn't know that," said Haruhi.

"Your friends did. I foresee some communication problems in your future,"

"Do you know where my father is or not? Show me,"

"What will you do in exchange?" asked the hooded figure.

"Anything,"

"I won't ask for that much – this is but a cracking trifle. Consider it a demo of my skills," he tapped his screen once more, and the image faded to show the feed of six security cameras. At first Haruhi had some problems to decipher what she was seeing – it looked like a hospital. There were people in white robes moving from one room to the other, and patients lying in open pods. But something was off. The Inlaws patrolling the corridors were armed – something that never happened in the hospital where Haruhi's mom had died.

Haruhi scanned the screen as the feed changed from room to room. Nekozawa's voice blasted through the speakers. "I ran his tweeter pictures through a facial recognition database – lucky that he liked to take so many selfies,"

Haruhi nodded. Her dad had always been his own biggest fan.

"Then I ran a search on the surveyance network using his facial parameters. Just as the police would do when looking for a suspect,"

So that was why Kyouya had not liked being caught on camera by this guy. Haruhi wondered why Tamaki (Richard?) did not have the same reservations. And why couldn't Kosaka find her dad, if all Nekozawa had done was follow the same procedure as the police? She would have to run her own search on them once she was out, if they were right and she got out. She kept scanning the blinking feeds, looking for a familiar face.

The state of the patients was changing. At first they had been mostly active – watching holos, receiving visitors, reading their tablets, eating jell-o. As the stream progressed, they became noticeably different – no visitors, then no windows, then no hair on their heads, then not even doctors.

"Three minutes left," signaled Kaoru. "Mori and Hani's batteries are half out,"

"Why didn't you use solar powered batteries?" asked Nekozawa.

"We did. It's nighttime," pointed out Kyouya. "Something that you would be experiencing right now if you were in Sakhalin,"

Nekozawa laughed darkly.

"Do you see him?" asked Tamaki, sticking his head next to Haruhi's. "I can search too. Does he look like you?"

"A bit. He's prettier," said Haruhi. "At least when his face is done and –"

The new screens showed shaved patients that were completely restrained. A young man convulsed on his bed, startling the doctors that were observing him through a glass window.

"What's this place?" mumbled Haruhi. Her stomach was sinking, and she felt very small, eleven years old, then five, then three. "Why are they tied up?"

"A R&D clinic," said Nekozawa's voice, deeper than a black hole "Thorough clinical essays. Very interesting experiments,"

"Two minutes," warned Kaoru. Hikaru passed his headset to his brother, who rolled his chair to sit in the middle with one hand on each keyboard. Hikaru walked until he stood behind Kyouya, who had found the perfect angle to watch but not be seen. He crossed his arms and addressed the screen. "Is this place Hitachiin?"

"Nyet," said Nekozawa.

And then Haruhi saw him. Her mouth slacked, her shoulders dropped and she touched the screen as if she could take her father out of that cold window like a figurine out of a twisted doll house.

Her dad's beautiful auburn hair was no more – they had shaved him so closely that his skull glistened, reflecting the glare of the white lights around his bed. He was only wearing white pants – not even a hospital robe- and every inch of his exposed skin was covered with sensors, which were transmitting to a small console above his head. His eyes were closed, his arms and legs were restrained from shoulder to ankle and his whole body shivered with every breath, as if the air itself hurt.

He was in a windowless room, and there were no doctors or nurses around him, not even observing – only two inlaws. One stood next to the door and the other rolled around the bed, round and silent and with his armed extremities half-extended.

"Dad –" gasped Haruhi. Her heart was breaking; her voice was smaller than a child's. "Where is he? What happened to him? Why are there inlaws around his bed?"

Nekozawa shrugged in his tiny window at the bottom of the screen. On the main window, the armed Inlaw extended its arm and connected it to a sensor placed above her father's heart. He must have sent an electrical current, because he convulsed, once. Haruhi stopped breathing.

"That's fucked up," commented Hikaru.

The feed stopped, and Haruhi shouted "NO!" at the screen before Nekozawa's image took over again. She was barely aware of Tamaki's hands still on her shoulders, trying to offer her a comfort that was too insignificant for the tidal wave of rage and impotence that was rolling inside her head. She slapped his hands away.

"I told you that these images were a gift," said the hooded figure. "Not the information,"

"We can track them down," said Hikaru, spitting on the floor. "Don't blackmail us,"

"Please – you can barely jam your baby chicken drones," said Nekozawa. "Don't worry, I will tell you, I will, truly – you just have to fetch a small thing for me. It is auspicious, this request of yours – Ryouji Fujioka is at the same place that holds a very special item dear to my heart,"

"Anything," said Tamaki, at the same time that Hikaru flipped two birds at the screen. The camera did not catch it. Kyouya was very still and very quiet, and the only sound came from Kaoru's hands controlling the keyboard. Haruhi realized that her lips were pushed over her teeth, like a tiger's and tried to contort them back to a normal expression.

"One minute," said Kaoru, evenly.

"The details are uploading as we speak. Kyouya Ootori, yes?"

"Yes," said Kyouya, still off-camera.

"Why don't you read them and tell your leader Grantaine what you think? I believe that you will find them to be good for our mutual interests,"

Kyouya opened his tablet and read to himself, with Hikaru looking over his shoulder.

"This is shit," said Hikaru, after scanning the page for one minute. His eyes were slits. "You want us to get killed,"

"Nyet," said Nekozawa, as if he was explaining basic mathematics to a child, "I want what it says there. I want the KRM prototype,"

"That is a Russian project," said Kyouya, still reading. "It is not in Japan,"

"It was stolen. A fine job of industrial espionage. Kudos to your technocracy," said Nekozawa, tapping his fingers. The blueprints of a golden heptagonal nanochip appeared on the screen, turning in front of his face. The chip grew and developed outwards in perfect geometrical pink spirals. His mouth looked sad. "I want it back,"

Kyouya closed his tablet. "As much as it pains me to agree with Hikaru, you are asking an impossible thing. We need to tackle smaller projects first, with outcomes that will not end with us in the death row for high treason,"

Tamaki took the tablet and opened it. His violet eyes speed-read the information.

"I'll do it," said Haruhi. She didn't know how. She stood up, looking directly into the camera. "I don't know what it is, but if that chip is in the same place as my father, I will get it for you. Just tell me where that is,"

Nekozawa shook his head. "No, no, girl – you would fail on your own. Get killed, and then they move the chip, and then I have to find it again. Not very good, as a proposal. You –we- need your friends,"

Haruhi wanted to scream that these boys were not her friends.

Then you'd better start cozying up to them, honey, said her father's voice. Because I feel my time is running out.

"Please," said Haruhi, to the screen, and then to Hikaru and Kyouya, Kaoru and Tamaki.

"We will do it," said Tamaki, standing up and taking Haruhi's place. "We will be honored to help a fellow rebel and assist a damsel in distress to the end of the w-"

"No," repeated Kyouya, "We are minors in an orphanage, with no access to weaponry or camouflage. As Nekozawa said, we can't even properly jam the Authorities' signal, not for a long time. We cannot infiltrate a heavily armed clinic,"

"What about all your revolutionary crap? What was that? You are good enough to talk about freedom and sticking it to the man and liberating the world from the yield of the Authorities and all that nonsense? This could be your training," said Haruhi, pointing at the screen, "I know that you wanted me to get something in Tokyo, I will get that for you too,"

"No," said Kyouya, "I'm truly sorry about your father, but this was never part of any deal. We would get nothing for helping you two except death or prison, if we are lucky. We have no incentives,"

Nekozawa squirmed, then. "I have incentives for you," he said.

"Thirty seconds," signaled Kaoru, raising a hand. Hikaru grudgingly moved from his position behind Kyouya and sat back down at his console, unhooking the earpiece from Kaoru's ear and setting it back over his own. They spoke in unison. "Get back to the club,"

Haruhi's senses were working overtime, and she heard two muted "Roger that," from their speakers.

"If you get me the KRM prototype, I will give you my satellite," said Nekozawa. She also heard a tinge of desperation in his tone that was not completely masked by the voice distortion.

Kaoru stopped typing, and Hikaru looked up sharply. Tamaki startled as if he had been bitten by a snake. Kyouya pushed his glasses up.

"What satellite?"

"My Sakhalin base, and its linked satellite. I will not need it anymore if I get the KRM back. You could use it for your revolution, yes?" he said.

The boys were stunned into silence. "That is a very extravagant offer," started Kyouya, once he recovered from the shock, "But-"

"Yes," said Tamaki. "Yes – we will do everything in our power to retrieve your item. You have my word,"

"Ten seconds"

"Do I have theirs?" asked Nekozawa.

Haruhi and Tamaki looked at the twins, who were updating Mori and Hani on the proposal as fast as their lips could move. Both of them put one thumb up, then both of them. Tamaki turned to Kyouya, imploring. "Please," he asked. Kyouya shook his head.

"It's too soon,"

"It's the best opportunity that we will ever have," insisted Tamaki. "A satellite – some countries don't even have that,"

"It's not very big," clarified Nekozawa, gesticulating with modesty, "But it works,"

"We will die," stated Kyouya, matter-of-factly. "We are untrained and currently trapped in here,"

"We will live and change the world," Tamaki walked up to Kyouya and put his hands on his shoulders, on his neck, on his cheeks. Kyouya stood very still, his lips and his eyebrows severe ink strokes. Tamaki's voice was rich with faith, and his face a moving aquarelle. "Just like we promised,"

"I can assist you with material, as long as it can be dropped-off," said Nekozawa, enticing, "Not vehicles or drones, that's too big – but smaller things. Useful things for crawling in the dark and taking out your enemies,"

Haruhi shivered. She was not going to kill anyone.

Never say never.

But that seemed to do the trick for Kyouya.

"Yes. We accept your offer," he said, without taking his eyes off Tamaki's.

"Yes!" shouted Tamaki, jumping and forcing Kyouya to jump with him. He kissed him in both cheeks. "Yes! Mon ami! YES!"

"Three seconds!" warned Kaoru.

"Get a room!" barked Hikaru.

The metal door opened with a bang, and Hani and Mori landed on all fours. Mori jumped to close the door again with a powerful hit of his hand. They took off their earpieces and two technical backpacks that were barely blinking – the batteries to their handheld controls, and took in the scene before them.

"What are you doing?" said Mori. He looked angry, and he came towards the server with great strides. "Turn off the link!"

"The drones will zero in on us if you don't!" said Hani, equally annoyed.

"We will be in contact soon," said Nekozawa, before tapping on his screen for a final time. "Dobroj noči!"

Kaoru pushed a gray switch. "We are off the air," he tore the earpiece off his face. "What the hell just happened?" he asked Tamaki, who was still jumping with childlike joy, and then to Kyouya and Haruhi, who were emitting two very different kinds of silence.

Time slowed down and stretched. Haruhi touched the screen, black and cold under her fingertips. She saw Tamaki coming in for another spontaneous hug from a mile, and ducked, and evaded, locking eyes with Kyouya. He was furious, and already planning, and in his eyes she saw an accusation and a demand. She turned her face away, refusing to take the blame.

You brought this on yourself, she thought, you pulled me in by the ankles.

And thanks to that I might save dad. Thanks to them.

Or we might all die – daddy, them and me.

Hikaru had turned off his console and was howling like a maniac facing an army, shaking his fist in the air. After a second, Kaoru joined in his deranged joy.

Time was turning in gold and blue and pink spirals – Kyouya had put the nanochip on every screen, and it danced with them.

Mori and Hani exchanged a look. They were dirty, and the cloth of their jackets and trousers was alive with insects and leaves. Haruhi saw that the knees of their pants were caked with dirt. They had been outside for a long time. She wanted to go outside. The cool night air would clear her head. But now it was too late even for that.

We are all mad in here.

A tiny sugar-sweet smile spread on Hani's face like melted caramel "Did he just say that he's sending weapons?" he turned to Mori. "I did not imagine it, did I?"

"No, you didn't,"

"Well," said the smallest hacker, taking a crumbling gingerbread man out of his pocket and chewing off its head. "I have always wanted to go on a heist."