Chapter 17: Disquiet and Dreams.

There was an awkward silence, as the two stared at each other nervously.

"Um...Make yourself at home," Takashi said at last, scratching his head. "The bed's over there."

"Oh, no! I brought a bedroll. You can take the bed," Sumiko protested as she set her bag down on the floor.

That explained the size of her bag. But Takashi had been raised a Morinozuka, and Morinozukas were, above all else, gentlemen. "You take the bed," he said firmly, and put the duffle bag on the bed with an air of finality.

"But where will you sleep?" Sumiko asked.

"Couch."

"Oh."

There was another awkward silence.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"No, I ate a little while ago."

"Ah."

She smiled suddenly. "We're being kind of silly, aren't we?" she said, sitting down on the bed.

"Hmm?"

"We're acting like middle-schoolers who've never been alone with someone of the opposite sex before."

Takashi blushed. "Yeah," he said. He didn't mention that this was one of the only times that he had been alone with a girl before. The Host Club had always been filled with people, and the surplus of fangirls at Ouran had ensured that he never had a girlfriend for more than a few days. In fact, Sumiko was the first openly female friend he had ever had ( he didn't really count Fujioka, seeing as she was more like a little sister to him. A cross-dressing little sister, but still.).

"So what do you want to do?" Sumiko asked. He shrugged in reply (not mentioning the ideas that the perverted part of his brain supplied, because those were bad, bad thoughts).

"We-ll, if you don't have any preference..." Sumiko said with a hopeful smile. She reached inside her bag and pulled out a Go board (Kami, she fit that in her bag? Did she have her whole room stashed in there?).

"Fancy a game?" she asked. "I also have some good tea..."

Tea and a game of go with one of the prettiest girls he had ever met. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever god was watching over him.

They played four games, two of which Takashi won, and two of which Sumiko won. Towards the end of the last game, Sumiko was beginning to yawn.

"I think I'll turn in," she said. "It'll be a big match tomorrow."

"Ah." Of course. She should be well-rested for the match.

Sumiko stood and stretched before rummaging inside the duffle bag and pulling out some clothes. "I'm going to change!" she called as she walked into the bathroom.

Takashi sighed and passed his hand over his face. This was a mistake. He wasn't going to get any sleep with Sumiko in the room. Sure, he had always thought that she was an attractive girl, but recently... well, recently he had been hypersensitive to her presence. When they sat next to each other, he noticed every breath she took, and the way that she chewed on her lip when she was nervous. And even worse, he had been terribly aware of his own actions. He would suddenly realize that he had no idea how he normally did things. Did he always sit like this? Did he usually drink water in a different way? Just trying to breathe casually was exhausting.

"Are you okay?" Sumiko said, awaking him from his reverie. "You're all tense." She was about an inch from his face, wearing a concerned expression on her face. He jerked back in surprise, slamming his head into the footboard of the bed in the process. "Ow," he grunted, rubbing the sore spot.

"Are you okay?" she asked, bending down to look at his head. He noticed suddenly that she was clad in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts (that revealed her long, slender legs; expanses of lovely white skin...no, no, no, he would not think those thoughts). He looked away hurriedly. It would be very bad form to get a nosebleed in front of a guest.

"It doesn't look that bad," Sumiko said, still inspecting his head. "You might get a bruise, but not a bad one."

"...Hm." he grunted as he stood, still averting his eyes.

"Well. I'm going to bed. Good night!" And with that, Sumiko climbed into his bed and pulled the covers over her. Takashi went over to the couch and flicked off the lamp on the table.

"Good night," he mumbled as he lay down.

He closed his eyes with a sigh and tried to ignore the slumbering figure across from him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

When he opened his eyes, he was in one of the chairs of the Third Music Room. The Host Club was around him, having tea. They were all dressed in period costumes from the Meji Era.

When he looked down at himself, he found that he was wearing what looked like a samurai costume. There was a sword at his side, and when he pulled it from the sheath, there was the sound of metal on metal, and he realized that the sword was real. He looked up and discovered that the Third Music Room had disappeared, and had been replaced by a kendo dojo. The Host Club was sitting on the sidelines, chanting "Sentou, sentou, sentou." There was a a man standing opposite him, holding a kendo sword.

"Come!" the man said, "We must fight."

"I can't fight you," Takashi said.

"Then you are a coward," the man replied, and he dropped into a kendo stance.

"No," Takashi tried to explain, "I've got a real sword and you don't. I'll kill you."

"That is irrelevant," the man said. Then he raised one black-gloved hand and took off his mask, and Takashi realized that it was really Sumiko, and the sword was suddenly a bow that she was aiming at his heart.

"Raise your sword," she commanded.

"I can't," he said again, and she released the arrow...

And Takashi woke up, drenched in sweat. He did not fall asleep again for the rest of the night.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Author's Note: Sick week. Blech.

Some Things of Note:

'Sentou' means 'fight'.

And thanks to Lady Lawless, who pointed out that kyudo doesn't actually have elimination matches. Oops. Well, anyone who can come up with an answer as to why Sumiko's dojo does have elimination matches gets an Evolutionary Marvel No-Prize!

Thanks!