Author's Note: Sorry for the disappearance, guys. Hopefully I'll get this story finished before the Fall semester begins and I fall off the grid again.

To my lovely readers and (especially) reviewers, THANK YOU. This wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for your support.

When Kahoko returned to school the next day, there weren't any obvious changes in Yunoki's behavior toward her. He still wasn't talking to her openly, but somehow Kahoko felt a little less anxious around him. She also noticed that he looked better—more rested, like he'd actually been getting some sleep at night.

Kahoko sincerely hoped that this was a good sign.

On Friday morning, Kahoko was walking toward her first class when she saw Yunoki walking toward her in the hallway. He made eye contact and gestured for her to follow him before turning down an adjacent corridor. Kahoko looked down at her watch. She was actually early for once, and still had ten minutes before class began.

Kahoko turned the corner and jumped slightly as Yunoki popped into view. He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her to private corner. "Have you any plans after school?" he asked quietly.

Kahoko pretended to consult her memory. "I . . . don't think so."

He actually smiled at that, and Kahoko stopped breathing for a moment. It was almost annoying how perfect he looked sometimes.

"Good. I'll see you this evening then." He turned to walk away, but paused mid-step. "If that's okay with you."

Is he actually asking for my permission?

"Of course," Kahoko responded.

Yunoki nodded, and left without another word. Kahoko watched him walk away.

Of course? Why did I say that?

Only a few days ago she would have shuddered at the thought of spending time with Yunoki.

Azuma, her mind corrected.

Kahoko shook her head. No. It's Yunoki. I need not be on such intimate terms with him.

She needed to remember that Yunoki was not a polite gentleman, no matter how he acted in public. Regardless of what they had done together, she needed to exercise caution. She needed to keep her distance emotionally, if not physically.

But what about the last time you were together? He was different. Maybe he's changed.

Kahoko shrugged and started to walk back toward her class.

Even if he has, it doesn't make him any less dangerous. This kindness is just a phase, and I won't be caught in that trap again.

As she settled into her desk and said hello to Nao and Mio, Kahoko tried to push all thoughts of Yunoki out of her mind, but that text from before kept floating back into her mind.

What if he really does need me?

When Kahoko got home that afternoon, her mother announced that there was a rather large package for her. There was no sender name or return address, so Kahoko took it up to her room and closed the door before opening it. She had a pretty good idea who it might be from, and didn't know whether or not the contents would be something her mother ought to see.

There was a note inside, written in elegant script:

Kahoko,

I'd like to take you out to dinner this evening. I was unsure as to whether or not you own appropriate attire for such an event, so I arranged to have this sent to you. My driver will pick you up at seven.

-A.

Kahoko wondered briefly how he'd gotten her measurements, and then blushed as the obvious answer came to her. Nervously, she unwrapped the contents of the box. Nestled inside was a beautiful silver evening gown. It was simple enough, and Kahoko breathed a sigh of relief that it didn't have a plunging neckline or a high slit in the skirt. It was safe—elegant without being overly formal. There were a couple other wrapped bundles, and Kahoko discovered that Yunoki had included shoes and jewelry to complement the dress. Of course.

Kahoko placed it all gently on her bed and took a step back. She was trying to estimate how much it all cost when her mother knocked on the door. She jumped and looked around frantically for a place to hide the dress.

"Kahoko," her mother called through the door. "Kahoko, what was in that big box?"

"Um," Kahoko unfolded a blanket and tucked it over her bed, hoping her mother wouldn't notice the lumps underneath. "Just…something for school."

"Well, I'm curious about it. I'd like to have a look."

"It's nothing, really."

"I still want to know what was in it. Unless you're hiding something from me."

"Hold on, I'm…changing." Great, now her mother wanted to actually see what was in the box. Kahoko pulled a pile of sheet music out of her schoolbag and spread it on top of the blanket, placing the empty box beside it. Satisfied, Kahoko opened her door.

Her mother looked at the music and the empty box and frowned.

"See? Nothing exciting." Kahoko shrugged to emphasize how unenthused she was.

"You're still in your uniform?"

Kahoko looked down at her clothes. "I just got home a couple minutes ago, Mom. You saw me."

"But you just said you were changing."

Crap.

Kahoko tried to keep her face impassive as she scrambled to come up with a believable response. "I . . . "

Before she could react, her mother stepped forward and pulled the blanket off the top of the bed, revealing Yunoki's gift.

Crap.

Kahoko knew that freaking out would only make the situation worse, so she squashed the urge to throw herself between her mother and the bed and formulate some ridiculous cover story. Her mother stood there in shock, and Kahoko said a silent prayer of thanks that Yunoki hadn't included matching lingerie.

"Kahoko—ˮ she started a question, but then her attention was drawn to the slip of paper on the comforter. Kahoko's mother snatched the note off the bed before her daughter could interfere. Her eyes skimmed over the text and Kahoko felt the blood rushing to her face. Her mother set the note back down, and Kahoko steeled herself for the lecture that was sure to come.

"Is he rich?" her mother blurted.

"I—what?" Kahoko sputtered. She hadn't been expecting that one.

"Well if he can afford to buy you all of this," she gestured to the bed, "for nothing more than a date, then either he loves you desperately or he's quite wealthy." She picked up the necklace and examined the jewels. They looked real enough. "Or both."

"I don't—ˮ

"Either way, it's a good thing that my plans fell through this evening. You're going to need help getting ready."

"There. Take a look."

Kahoko glanced in the mirror and gasped. She looked . . . different. Older, more mature.

"Beautiful," her mother confirmed.

They had spent the last couple hours getting Kahoko as close to perfection as possible. The dress fit like a dream, the cut elegantly emphasizing what curves she did have and the light silvery color nicely complimenting the red of her hair as well as the rubies glimmering in her necklace and earrings. Kahoko was relieved that her mother didn't ask how her date had known her size. Her hair was drawn back into an elegant updo, a few curled ringlets escaping to frame her face. Kahoko's older sister had even come home long enough to give a couple pointers on makeup before leaving to spend the evening with her own friends. Kahoko fought the urge to touch her face for fear of smudging her eye makeup or messing up her manicure.

She thought it was all a bit much for a dinner date, but her mother wouldn't hear of it. "If he's gone so far as to provide the ensemble that you'll be wearing," she'd said, "we're going to make sure he never forgets what you look like in it."

Still, there was a half hour before Yunoki's driver would arrive to pick her up, and Kahoko thought she would go crazy if her mother spent another minute fussing over her. She wobbled slightly in her high heels as she walked toward her violin case. When her mother made a sound of protest, Kahoko shook her head firmly. "I won't mess up my hair or nails, I promise. I just need to calm my nerves and kill some time, okay?"

Her mother nodded her understanding and stepped forward to kiss her daughter on the cheek. "You're all grown up," she whispered. With a sniff and a quick dab at her eyes with a tissue, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Kahoko opened the case, pulled out her violin and bow, and sighed. If only her mother knew just how grown up she really was. Eyes closed, she coaxed a melancholy melody from the strings, urging her racing pulse to slow as she lost herself in the music.