bored411: It was. It was indeed a calm before the storm. But thank you!

Lillyannp: Thank you! I have nothing against high school stories, but I feel like college stories can be an interesting setting since the characters are in new situations and new environments. I'm happy you liked Haruhi and Tamaki's interactions! I was scared for a second that I was making it the "Haruhi is smart and Tamaki is a dumb idiot she's fed up with" kind of depiction, so I'm relieved! :)

SabellaX: Thank you so much, ahhh! Writing about Kosuke's situation is very cathartic. I can't say I've been in her shoes, exactly, but I have felt what she's felt before and I have had a lot of her concerns. Thank you so much for your review! And just for the record, the Nakahara's names were mostly picked at random. "Kosuke Nakahara" just sounded good to me, and I carried it over from the OG fic.

Luminescentserpent: Thank you!

Kyoya's coming next chapter and I'm excited!

Also:

WARNING!

THE LAST PART OF THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES UNWANTED SEXUAL ADVANCES/HARASSMENT. PLEASE BE AWARE BEFORE YOU READ!

In late January, Kosuke does probably the dumbest, most desperate thing she has ever done.

It begins with a man in a suit arriving on the doorstep of The Lily Bowl.

The knock on the door is loud, firm, and Kosuke hears it from all the way up the stairs, in her room. She's sitting up on the floor, back against her bed, trying to sew up a tear in her comforter. She's intent to simply ignore it. Rude, maybe, but the knocker has no way of knowing she's home. It's likely just another person trying to figure out why The Lily Bowl isn't open anymore. They are much less frequent now, but she has lost their patience with them.

But then, THUD THUD THUD, another round so harsh and sudden Kosuke pricks herself with the needle. She sucks her fingertip and stands up at the same time, flush with irritation. So it's going to be one of those "customers." With Hitsuji taking a nap in his bedroom—Minami being absent on another birthday party—she hopes that this one will at least keep their tantrum to a minimum.

As said, the man is wearing a suit, and not a very good one at that. It does not fit him, and the tie isn't tightened. The front has a wrinkle creased across the breast. The suit is as dark as his hair, which is slicked back with a gallon's worth of gel. Kosuke cannot see his eyes behind his sunglasses.

Kosuke sees him, and she thinks trouble.

"Hello," the man greets, with a small smile and not a drop of genuineness. "Sorry 'bout that. I thought I saw a light in the window."

"It's fine, but I'm sorry—the restaurant is closed." She says this, even though she somehow knows what the man is going to say next.

"I'm not here to eat, sorry. Mind if I come in?"

In he goes, walking right past her without another word. Kosuke's mind goes from wondering what this guy wants to wondering how fast it will take her to reach the phone and call for the police. Hitsuji is still upstairs. Sleeping.

The man looks around the place, especially the chairs and tables still aside and against the walls. Even if the children are not in the room, evidence of them is everywhere. One of Minami's dolls lies on the fireplace and Hitsuji has somehow forgotten one sneaker on the corner. The man tip-toes through a spill of building blocks.

"This is a sad sight." His voice is far too sweet with sympathy. "I remember when this place was full of people."

Kosuke says nothing.

"You don't recognize me, do you?"

Kosuke says nothing again, but now because she does not know what to say. Her silence and (unstoppable) furrow of her eyebrows are answer enough, though.

"Guess not. We never talked, I think I just caught a look at you every now and then. Your hair looks better now."

"What do you want?"

The man runs a hand down the front of his suit, as if it will at all help its fit. The look he gives her does not scare her, but she is unnerved. It is the same look of a child delighting in ripping off spider legs or pulling apart centipedes. He's having fun.

"Me and your father were…Well, not friends, I suppose." Kosuke feels a chill go up her back, but she fights it down. "We were more like business partners. He wasn't even your father, was he?"

"What do you want?" she asks again.

He huffs. "Now, now, don't be rude. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm the one with the trouble here, really. Marti has put me in an unfair position. Had, I mean."

If she runs out of the door right behind her, she can call out for help, or find a phone. But then she'll be leaving Hitsuji with him. Maybe he knows that, and that is why he stands between her and the stairs. So now she wonders, if Hitsuji wanders down, would he listen if she tells him to run? If the man moves to go up the stairs, will she be able to take him down? She could call the police or fend him off, she won't be able to do both.

She takes far too long to reply, and maybe she's eyeing the stairway too much, because the man sighs. "I told you, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm just taking care of some business."

He reaches into his blazer and withdraws a folded piece of paper. He holds it out, but doesn't take any steps forward. Making her come to him. She does, slowly, and comes no closer than the distance it takes to take the paper. The way his hands slip into his pants pockets, he seems to be awaiting her reaction with amusement.

The first thing Kosuke sees when she unfolds the paper is, clear as crystal, Marti's handwriting.

The second this is the word "debt"—written the same as every other word, but jumping out at her from the paper regardless.

Then it's just a stream of words that hit her hard in the chest, over and over.

…more time to…

…slow month for The Lily Bowl.

…apologize…

Please—

…money.

Money…

—money—

It's a realization that stabs into her bit by bit, until she can't see the paper, the floor, or her own hands anymore—they fade away in favor of a writhing black pit in her stomach.

Marti had dealt with a loan shark.

Marti owned debts to a loan shark.

Kosuke is standing in the room with said loan shark.

She shouldn't believe it.

Maybe she's a rotten daughter for not throwing the paper down and yelling no, he's lying, she doesn't believe him!

But much like how she'd known Okina and her were going to drift away, or how she knew that Kohta was planning on breaking up with her that night, she just—knows.

Kosuke fears she's going to vomit on the shark's shoes.

He watches her, neither smiling nor frowning, but with a light in his eyes. He's considering smiling, if anything. Kosuke thinks that she really is alone with a shark—a hungry one with many teeth that has just tasted blood in the water.

She can feel herself starting to spiral, but he catches her by clicking his tongue. "As you can see, that letter is dated very shortly before his and your mother's accident. Obviously, this debt went…unpaid."

The shark has sunk its teeth right into her, and isn't going to let go.

Kosuke doesn't think she was going to be able to speak for weeks, let alone in this moment. "I don't owe anything to you."

"Technically, you're correct. However, you are the only adult of the remaining family, no? That is, I could take this up with the other daughter, but I doubt she knows how to spell 'indebted'." He laughs like it's just a joke.

Kosuke does refuse to believe the next thought that comes to her. "He didn't sign our names on anything!"

"No, no, no. There isn't really 'anything' to sign them on. However, the fact of the matter is that I have quite a bit of money owed to me, and I need someone to give it back."

She doesn't think he's going to lay his hands on her. His threat is not a physical one—not now, anyway, but it could be. Would be. It's still just the two of them, but Kosuke now feels inexplicably surrounded.

There's a choice, albeit a choice between two poisons for all three Nakaharas to drink. Both would choke them pale, but Kosuke has to think. Weigh her options, as few as there are.

Wait, no.

What is she thinking?

"I don't have to pay you anything, and I'm not going to." She drops the letter and lets it flutter to her feet. "Get out of my house."

He seems…unimpressed. "Care to explain?"

Maybe she's just feeding him, but she can't afford to feel or show fear to him. Her stance is as sturdy as a house of cards as-is. "You are not going to come into my home and threaten me into giving you money I never promised you. Leave before I call the police."

She's planning on calling them regardless, of course, but what other ammunition does she have?

The shark runs his tongue over his teeth, which is just too fitting. "Well, here's the funny little thing about the police: they have to investigate things, and investigating takes some time. Enough time for quite a bit to happen—word to spread, and such."

Kosuke should've known there's a reason he's so calm. The police must have been her most obvious defense. And it's gone—despite what she'd thought as a child, they do not appear in an instant and make all the bad things disappear.

"What is wrong with you?"

Kosuke says it without thinking, but all the shark does is roll his eyes. "Am I not being clear? I have lost a large sum of money that was promised to be returned to me. Now I would like it back. Here: for your convenience."

Another slip of paper is extended, and though Kosuke does not take it, she sees the yen symbol and the numbers that go with it.

It's another sickening stab.

It is more than half of all their money.

"It doesn't need to be paid all at once." He places the card atop the fireplace when she still refuses. "100,000 yen a week will work, and probably won't catch too much attention from your bank. My mailing address is on the back."

"My father never would have taken this much. The restaurant always had good business."

"True," he agrees, "but loans have interests. It's my fault, partially. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I figured it would be better to allow you time to grieve."

Two more things occur to Kosuke.

One: there is no way the interest rate was capped off at the legal twenty percent.

Two: the shark has waited so many months after Marti's death to increase said interest.

What. The. Hell.

And then—because this whole hellstorm of a situation simply has to prove that yes, it can get worse—Hitsuji enters the room.

He's wiping the sleep from his eyes, his clothes rumpled from his bed. He is suddenly, painfully tiny, and Kosuke is struck with the image of a mouse. Or, more fitting, a small fish.

The shark smiles. Hungrily. "Hello. You must be Hitsuji."

Hitsuji, still young and so very shy, ignores him entirely and says, "'M hungry."

The shark moves away from him and towards Kosuke—or the door behind her, rather. Kosuke steps aside to let him through, and the brief smirk he gives her is triumphant. It's a look that screams, I know the children are your priority.

"Best get to that, then." The shark pauses with his hand on the door. "I think the end of next week would be a good time to start."

Then he just…leaves, shutting the door behind him.

"Who w'zat?" Hitsuji asks.

Kosuke snatches up the letter. She knows Hitsuji won't be able to read it, but she doesn't want him to look at it.

"No one," Kosuke tells him. She never even caught the shark's name.

That night, Kosuke falls back into an old habit and sits between the kids' beds while they sleep. It's unfair that they are the only people she can think of who knew her parents beyond their names. She wants to ask, "Why did Marti do that? why did he do this to us?" But they don't know anything, and Kosuke doesn't want them to.

She just…She knew that Marti was a human, and humans are never wholly good or wholly bad, but to find out that he did something like this just doesn't fit into what she knows of him. It's a square peg in a round hole. That's not Marti.

Marti was sweet and caring, and loved his family so much it was not unusual of him to cry at their school events or birthdays. He always put them before himself.

Which…might explain why he would have done such a thing.

She is hardly processing that her father wasn't all who she thought he was. The kids wouldn't be able to even hear it.

Kosuke doesn't tell Haruhi, either, because she doesn't see how any good would come from it. The police are already off the table. Unless Haruhi is secretly an assassin, all she'd be able to do was fret and fuss. She might even call the police herself.

So it becomes Kosuke's little dirty secret. And she hates it. And she's almost physically ill from it.

She decides without an ounce of happiness that the lesser of the two evils would be to just refuse. She Cannot, with a capital C, set them up for having more than half their money taken away. That isn't an option. How would they survive that kind of blow?

The week goes by like an awful storm only Kosuke is caught in. Every minute she spends with the children, or talks with Haruhi over the phone, all she can do is put on a smile as if nothing has changed. Nope. Not at all. All the same.

One day goes by, then two, and Kosuke is stupid enough to almost think that maybe the shark was just bluffing and they'll be fine.

Again: stupid.

"Kosuke? Our gate broke!"

Kosuke catches a pancake on a plate and looks into the dining room. Minami is on her tiptoes to look through the front window, Hitsuji abandoning his blocks to join her.

"Yeah?" Kosuke snaps the stove heat off. The gate had broken its hinges before.

"Yeah, real bad."

Minami is right. Very bad. Kosuke was wrong for thinking it was just one of the hinges.

Up close, as she stands before it with her apron still tied around her waist, she sees how much of an obliteration it is. The white boards lie in jagged hunks of splinters now. Nails are scattered across the sidewalk. Ironically, the hinges are the only things in fair condition.

"What happened?" Minami asks from beside her.

"Maybe a car crashed into it," Kosuke lies. She feels sick again. "Hitsuji, don't play with that."

Hitsuji drops the plank of wood obediently, but Minami frowns. "They didn't tell us!"

"No, they didn't. But it's okay. We can get another one."

Kosuke doesn't let them help clean up the mess, fearing cuts and splinters, so they stand aside and watch her instead. They still have no idea about anything and yet Kosuke worries they've caught onto something.

Two more days. More stupid wishful thinking. The thought that maybe it really was just a car.

No. Again.

Kosuke is fully prepared to go in for a normal day of work—scanning canned goods, taking inventory, counting out change—and she instead gets the sight of a small crowd gathered outside the store and a police car parked outside the doors.

The owner of the store, a small, middle-aged woman named Miss Yukino, is standing just a few feet past the doors with a hand clasped over her mouth. She sees Kosuke approaching, and she just deflates. Behind her glasses, her eyes are dry, but heavy with stress Kosuke is all too familiar with.

"I'm sorry," Miss Yukino tells her, "but it looks like we won't be open for business today. I'll still pay you for your hours."

"No, no…" Kosuke looks past her and only then sees the problem: one of the front windows has been completely shattered. Shards of glass are glittering all over the ground. One of the officers just walks right through the empty frame with his footsteps crackling. "What happened?"

Miss Yukino shakes her head. "Someone threw a rock through the window last night. Probably some teenager."

That's when Kosuke is just forced to accept that she no longer has a choice, and she never did. Not just because someone else has been pulled into it—a completely innocent person only related to Kosuke by employment, at that—but because it was never just her, and she'd known that from the beginning. First it's just a replaceable gate. Then it's someone Kosuke knows. Next, it will be someone closer, and who will that be? Haruhi, or the children?

"Kosuke, honey, are you alright?" Miss Yukino presses a hand to her back. Kosuke is sweating like a pig. "You look like you're about to be sick!"

"I'm fine." Kosuke swallows the bile rising in her throat. "I'm sorry, Miss Yukino."

"Don't be, sweetie. It wasn't your fault."

Kosuke pulls 50,000 yen one day and again two days later. The bills go into an envelope, and the envelope goes to the address the shark gave her.

He sends back a note.

Glad to have your cooperation. I'll stop the interest. Seems fair.

100,000 yen a week, week after week. He was right: the bank doesn't notice. Or, if they do, they probably chalk it up to an increase in the cost of raising two children. Or just really dumb decisions.

Her behavior doesn't go unnoted, even though she tries to control it. Staring off into space, unengaged in conversation, her acting skills had always been lackluster.

The next time she sees Haruhi, when she comes out to the town for an impromptu visit, she realizes what's going on when Haruhi starts putting a hand on her shoulder in their casual conversations. She thinks Kosuke is regressing in her grief—like so many months after losing her parents was what made her see how life was truly going to be from now on. It's reasonable. Perhaps that's why she woke up that morning to Minami in her bed, curled into her side.

Yes, there is guilt at what she's doing to them. Yes, there is anger at what Marti had done to them. Along those, though, Kosuke is thinking, thinking, thinking. If they can't survive a financial gutting such as this, then Kosuke has to find a way to help all of them. She has to get money—a lot of it, and soon.

The most obvious thing to do is get a second job, but her cashier position at Miss Yukino's store is all she can manage as-is. She has no more time to spare, and no experience to offer. She entertains the idea of somehow selling her cooking. Problem is, she's fairly sure she's going to need some kind of permit for that, and she has no clue how she'd go about advertising without coming off as a beggar or a narcissist.

Second option: selling. Selling what? They had nothing to sell except the chairs and tables—which she does list for sale, but has no takers as of yet. They can't sell the kitchen equipment they still use, or the clothes off their backs. It may come down to that, but until then, she'll keep their lives as unchanged as possible.

She has truly, sincerely reached the peak of desperation, and all she sees to do is search for any place that will have her. Babysitting, petsitting, oddjob repairs, at-home cook. That last one pulls up no nearby results, but the others she writes down in a list.

Then she finds it: one of the worst choices she can make.

It's at a domain called

At first, K thinks she's inexplicably been suggested a dating site. To be sure, she clicks the link. It pulls up a simplistic but well-designed page with the words LOOKING FOR COMPANY TONIGHT? in big, glittery letters at the top. Beneath that is an image of two silhouettes, a man and a woman, sitting at a table and clinking their wine glasses together. A few subpages are listed to the side.

LOOKING?
OFFERING?
CURRENT LISTINGS
PROFILES

Well, it is a dating website.

A compensated dating website.

The feeling Kosuke is struck with is not horror, or disgust, but…extreme discomfort. In high school, once, a couple of girls in her class had spread a rumor that one of their classmates was dating men for money after school. The liars got tongue lashes and long suspensions—good for it, catty little bullies—but the poor girl also had to endure whispers, looks, and more than one teacher interrogation.

Kosuke understands, mostly, why it isn't exactly smiled upon. It's a matter of dignity for the most part. Then there's age, because should any teenager be getting their money from dating much older people, however fake it is?

Finally, and in all honestly, the first thought of many would not be an innocent meal at a restaurant, or harmless karaoke. It'd be of other requests only whispered, of the buyer and the seller finding places more private, of teenage girls trying to choke down fear as they open the door of a hotel bedroom…

Kosuke doesn't want to judge too harshly. She guessed, if it truly was talking and laughing, perhaps it's just a simple way too get money. She also wanted to say that there are people like her that are desperate…but doesn't that make it worse, not better? To do it because you had to, not because you want to?

Kosuke deletes the tab.

Then she opens it again.

Delete.

Open.

Peek at the listings.

Delete.

Open.

Delete.

Open.

What…in the hell is she doing?!

She can't possibly be considering this. This is too deep of a dive into darker waters. It doesn't really matter if she can try not to judge too harshly for it, others wouldn't. She could be denied real jobs over this. The children—they'd no doubt be harassed and humiliated for it, too. 'Hey, Minami, my big brother said your sister dates guys for money, is that true?'

Or maybe not?

If she's sneaky about it, maybe…Surely others have figured out how to do it without anyone knowing. Anonymity might just be part of the job.

Wait, no.

No, no.

She's not doing this. No way.

Kosuke shuts her laptop and stands to her feet. She'll find something that needs to be cleaned. Clearly she's overworked her brain to the point of delirium. That's it.

That night, while the children are fast asleep, Kosuke begins to set up a profile.

She doesn't even let herself think anymore. All that matters is that this will get them money, and that's what they need.

Signing up is easy to do but difficult to power through. Kosuke enters as a "companion", and the only remotely identifying thing asked for is an e-mail address. Otherwise, she can lie about her age, her name, her location…At the very least, there is a notice about legalities and responsibilities for those of a certain age, but it's very vague and will probably never hold up in court.

Kosuke lies that her name is Tsubaki (flowers and common names seem most-used by the site) but is honest about being 19, because why not? There is no option to describe herself, which she supposes makes sense: the customer is buying what they want you to do—blush, giggle, listen—not what you really are.

Taking a photo is the worst part. Between adjusting her bedroom lights and turning her head left and right, she has the most time to think, What are you doing? Over and over. She powers through, though, until she gets a headshot of decent quality and no obvious terror.

Her profile goes up, and though she's offered a chance to browse through some listings, she slaps her laptop shut and calls it a night. In one last attempt to stop this madness, she tells herself that if the little mailbox in the corner has no hearts in the morning, she'll let this all go as an embarrassing memory to squirm about in the future.

In the morning, she has eight hearts. One invitation is to Tokyo, that weekend, for 76,000 yen.

Kosuke spends a lot of time wondering if she is honestly going to do this. There's nausea, sweating, and enough silence for Minami to ask what's wrong before she makes up her mind. It's still sickening.

She needs a gameplan now. She'll need an appropriate outfit, tons of mental practice and prep, and—most importantly—someone to watch the children past midnight.

Kosuke spends over an hour looking up names and calling numbers in hopes of finding a babysitter. She doesn't want to judge, but she marks off anyone who strikes her as just trying to make some quick, careless money. Then she looks for an affordable, but respectable price range. In the end, she finds three possibilities. The first is a teenager whose parents won't let her work past nine. The next has an unusual price policy for the number, ages, and hours that Kosuke can't keep up with. The last seems perfect until she bemoans that she's moved from Tokyo and didn't update that on her listing.

So now Kosuke is between a rock and a hard place. She'll already be buying a hotel room and bus tickets—if she lies well enough, she can tell the kids she's doing bank business to spare the inevitable demand to do something while they're in Tokyo—so if she forks out some extra cash for a babysitter, that 76,000 yen won't be much.

Haruhi is an option.

She lives in Tokyo already. She's never had a problem with the children, she likes them. But are they friends enough to ask such a favor? All Kosuke can do is ask.

Or…not. What she does instead is not bad, maybe, but it is far and beyond cowardly and immature.

The next time Haruhi calls her, she plays up the quietness. Short answers, no questions. She hopes she doesn't come off as mad, but it works.

"Kosuke, are you okay? You're really quiet."

"What? Oh, yeah! Just…thinking."

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Yes. Kind of." Kosuke fakes a sigh. She really, really hates herself. "Do you remember that friend I told you about? Okina?"

"Yes?"

"She just called me. She and some other friends are getting together in Tokyo this weekend. It's going to be a late-night walk around the city sort of thing, I think."

"Kosuke, that's great! Are you excited?"

"Not really, no. I don't think I'm going."

"Why not?" A rustle. "If you're worried about it being awkward, you'll be with your other friends…SHE invited you, too."

"No, I'd love to go and get caught up with everyone! I just have two little, lovable problems that I would have to take with me."

"Ohhh…Well, why don't you get a babysitter? I'm sure we have a lot around here; I'll help you look, if you want."

"Already did. They all either won't work that late or don't seem very dependable. I can't bring them with us, either. Even if we were out earlier, I don't think everyone would like the company, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

For just a second, Kosuke starts to prepare herself. Haruhi will say something sympathetic, and then Kosuke will just ask, and Haruhi will awkwardly realize that she was trying to nudge-nudge wink-wink her—

"Why don't you leave them here with us? We'd be happy to!"

Relief. Self-loathing.

"Oh no, no, no, Haruhi, I can't ask you to do that—"

"You're not. I'm offering. It's no problem at all! Me and Dad love Hitsuji and Minami. You can trust us."

Trust isn't the problem. "It'll be so late, though…"

"Then they'll be in bed sooner. Come on, Kosuke, I know how much you want to see Okina again. you can…Hold on."

There's a voice Kosuke can't make out talking on Haruhi's end now, and Haruhi replies, "Yeah, there's this get-together her friends are planning…Because she doesn't want to ask—Wait, Dad, my phone—!"

Haruhi is gone. Ranka is here. "Kosuke, dearest?"

"Yes?"

"You're going to go to that party and you're going to let us take care of the children. Getting out and socializing is important. Okay?"

Kosuke forgets that this is even a lie for a second. She's gobsmacked. "I—yes, sir."

"Wonderful! Call us with the details when you have them. Bye!"

Then he hands the phone back to Haruhi, and Kosuke thinks, That worked out.

Minami and Hitsuji are ecstatic that they're going on a trip for the first time in forever, to Haruhi's house, at that.

Minami is not ecstatic to hear why.

"Why can't we go see Okina, too?"

Kosuke hates herself all the more, because not only is she lying to Minami, but now she's hurting her feelings, too. Minami is really staring her down, leaving Kosuke to keep folding her clothes into their luggage.

"We're going out late," Kosuke tells her, "and we're going to be doing grownup stuff. I'm sorry."

"Can't she come see us?"

Shink goes the knife into her heart. "I don't think so, Minami. She's very busy. She can only get tomorrow night to hang out with all of her friends…"

Minami is upset—not crying, just upset. She's got that pinched, angry look. Kosuke doesn't even know how Minami feels about Okina anymore. She'd known Okina for forever, her big sister's best friend who played with her, babysat her, and held her even more than said sister had. She'd held her when she cried and sometimes carried her to sleep. Then she just left.

So does Minami want to see her, or does she just want some semblance of normalcy back? is she just angry Kosuke is doing something without them?

Minami just keeps that angry face on and walks out in an angry stomp disguised as an "I'm bored" stomp. It seems the Nakahara sisters share their acting skills.

The two-hour bus ride goes without trouble, and the three of them arrive at the Fujioka's apartment at just a little after six-thirty. Hitsuji makes a directed beeline for the bathroom and Minami shyly introduces herself to Ranka.

"You let me take care of that," Ranka says as he takes her rolling bag from her. He uses his other arm to give Kosuke a little squeeze around the shoulder. "It's so great to have you here, hon. Make yourself at home."

Kosuke could try, but even as Haruhi and Ranka smile at them all so kindly, she can only feel more guilty. There is nothing wrong with the apartment, it's perfectly homey, but it's small. It's one of those apartments where everything is all together with only thin walls to separate them. Here is the living room, take a step, bedroom. Not ideal space for three adults and two children.

She turns to Haruhi. "You're sure you're okay with this?"

Suddenly, something thin and sugary is being shoved between her lips. Haruhi is semi-glowering. "Don't. I did not make cookies for nothing. Here, Minami, have one!"

"There they are!"

All Kosuke gets is a flash of color as warning, but that's about as much as she usually gets, so she opens her arms wide. Tamaki still squeezes her tight, but at least her arms are free to squeeze him back instead of just being trapped against her sides.

"Now don't you worry," Tamaki tells her as he lets go. He's as bright-eyed and pearly-toothed as ever. "You will all be treated like royalty as long as I'm here!"

Minami is still somewhat twirling her fingers together, but now she asks, "Why're you so sparkly?"

Tamaki only smiles wider as he turns to her. The heavenly light shining down upon him intensifies. "That is just my princely charm! We're going to have a lot of fun together, I just know it."

He gives her a wink, but no shy smile in return. Minami just stays put and stares at him.

Ranka grabs Tamaki by his ear. Ignoring his pained squawk, he chides, "Don't make the children uncomfortable."

Tamaki counters some very offended words, but Kosuke doesn't hear them, distracted by Haruhi. "I did not plan this."

"Do you ever?"

"Fair enough."

Hitsuji finally emerges from the bathroom, holding the front of his shirt in his little hands. "'M hungry."

"Straight to the point," Haruhi commends. She reaches down into the little bowl of sugar cookies. "Here you go, little guy."

Tamaki intercepts her, bending down in front of Hitsuji with another big, friendly smile. Hitsuji sort of just blinks at him. Tamaki is undeterred.

"And this must be the little king! I am at your service, Your Majesty." He finishes with one hand over his heart and the other offered upwards.

Hitsuji stares. And blinks. And slides behind Kosuke for protection.

Tamaki disintegrates in an instant.

"The kids are in good hands," Haruhi reassures her while her fiancé twitches on the floor. Hitsuji chomps down on the offered cookie. "Rest assured."

"Okay," Kosuke confirms. Remembering, she rolls her backpack off one shoulder and reaches in. "I have a list of likes and dislikes. I got snacks, dried strawberries and chips—the strawberries are for Minami, the chips are for Hitsuji. Books, puzzles—let Minami flip the pages and make sure Hitsuji doesn't scrape off the puzzle pictures. Minami brought one of her dressup dolls and she'll probably ask you to help her, but getting the boots on is tricky, so I'll show you how. Here is all our insurance information, in case anything goes wrong—"

"Kosuke."

"Yes."

"Do you not think you're freaking out just a little bit?"

Kosuke looks at her hands, now holding sheets of paper, two baggies of snacks, two books, three puzzle boxes, a doll and the doll's two plastic boots. "No."

"Re. lax." Haruhi takes the pile from her gingerly, like a mother taking her child's blanket. "Now go get ready. It's almost seven."

It's been a while since Kosuke has bothered with eyeshadow or blush or lip gloss, but she makes it work in the little mirror inside the Fujioka's bathroom. Styling her hair results in two pink burns only covered by the resulting imperfect curls. The dress is the only clothing of her own she's worn in a while—she's even come to the apartment in one of her mother's flower-printed blouses and high-waisted pants. The dress is all-pink, very simple. It has a sweetheart neckline, but T-shirt sleeves of gossamer. She'd last worn it to a classmate's spring birthday party, but she thinks if she wore it to some late-night club in Tokyo, it wouldn't catch attention. Maybe heels would've been more fitting, but she slides on white flats instead.

It all takes longer than she thought. When she steps out, Ranka—he, the kids, Haruhi, and Tamaki have already sat down for dinner—coos. "Look at you! You're going to have boys tripping over their feet."

"Truly beautiful, Kosuke! You—" Tamaki's smile, charming but gentlemanly, drops. The look he gives Haruhi as she sets bowls on the table is pure alarm. "Haruhi, she needs protection!"

"Tamaki, she's just hanging out with her friends."

"No, Haruhi, he's right." And goodness, Ranka is serious! Deathly so. "You have no idea what kind of scum would try to sweep her away."

Haruhi's relationships with her father and fiancé are unique, Kosuke thinks. She loves them both dearly, but her face has 10,000 years of exhaustion. "Kosuke. Please stop them before they call a police squad."

Actually, Haruhi, I'm not going to be with any friends. I'm going to go flirt and dance with a bunch of strangers for several hours because I'm in debt to a loan shark. They could be right. One of them might try to touch me, or kiss me, or pull me away where no one can see us. Maybe all of them will!

"I can take care of myself, I promise. My mom taught me how to throw a punch."

Minami dutifully recites, "Never tuck your thumb into your fist."

Haruhi (who looks equal parts disturbed and impressed) says, "You should get going."

"Right."

Kosuke really hopes she's not pale or shaking. She goes to both of the children to kiss their heads and say goodbye, feeling like she's about to be lead into the electric chair. So nervous is she that she doesn't realize she's also kissed Haruhi and Tamaki both until after the fact.

Already having two very affectionate people in her life must have desensitized Haruhi, because all she gives is a slightly confused "bye"—and indeed, Tamaki is glowing. Kosuke is spared any mortification when Ranka makes an unhappy sound. So he gets a forehead kiss, too.

"Oh, wait!" Minami springs up from the table and goes to her bag, digging out a sheet of crumpled paper. It's folded over and only held shut with some tape. She gives it to Kosuke. "It's for Okina. Don't look at it!"

Kosuke knows that Minami is none-the-wiser about her plans, but…really? This is just cruel now.

"Sure," she says, and puts it in her little white purse with her phone and some money. Nothing else comes to stop her after that; she heads out the door with a stone in her belly.

The place is called the Blue Tower—many stories high, with all its corners lined in neon blue lights that are bright in the dusk sky, but blend into the rest of the Tokyo skyline. It's some sort of amalgamation of all things fun and deluxe. The topmost floors are hotel rooms, but there's also a restaurant, a sauna, an indoor pool, a rooftop garden, a casino, and an entire floor of rentable private party rooms. It's the kind of luxury Kosuke knew to be real but in an untouchable way that she'd never thought she'd actually encounter. Yes, the moon is also real, but Kosuke isn't going to the moon any time soon. So she feels like an astronaut when she walks in through the glass doors.

Kosuke knows it's not just going to be her, which makes her feel…2% better. There are two other girls waiting in the lobby, close but not speaking. The lobby is its own world of glassy floors and gilded walls and an indoor fountain large enough to swim in. It is all so stupidly expensive-looking, Kosuke feels like she's about to be charged just for standing there.

One of the girls looks maybe a few years older than Kosuke. Her hair is impeccably straight and jet-black, with a cute, round face. She's wearing a blue dress that shimmers with her movement. The other girl can be anywhere from eighteen to twenty-five—delicately curling strawberry blonde hair and green eyes like glass, but in a short white dress that expertly highlights her willowy legs. She looks like a piece of Greek artwork and she seems to know it.

"Tsubaki?" the dark-haired one asks. It takes Kosuke a second to remember what her name of the evening is. She nods. "I'm Violet. That's Sina. You're with us tonight."

"Nice to meet you," Kosuke answers. Is there anything else to say?

Sina looks her over for a moment. She has an unnaturally still face. "Is this your first time?"

Either she's very calculating, or Kosuke's anxiety has reached neon sign levels. "Yes, it is."

"It's okay," Violet tells her with a little smile. Kosuke instantly knows her smile is one of her biggest pulls. "Don't be nervous. Just laugh along and try to have fun."

Kosuke is appreciative, but she also hopes that means she may not have to worry about any funny business.

Sina's…advice is not as kindly. "Don't freak out or we'll have to make it up for you." And Kosuke can tell by her tone that "freaking out" may just mean letting her smile drop, or not blushing at an outright flirt.

It's advice, regardless. Kosuke nods her thanks. Sina isn't looking at her to see it.

Their company for the night arrive a short time later. There's four of them, all men in suits, the youngest in his twenties and the oldest maybe coming up on fifty. They pick them out of the stragglers in the lobby and approach. Violet and Sina perk up like flowers. Kosuke does the same.

One of the suits, a dark blue with a silvery tie to match, walks ahead of the others to greet them. He could be as old as thirty, but Kosuke thinks he has young eyes, somehow. "Good evening, ladies. Might you three be Violet, Sina, and Tsubaki?" They all nod, and the friendly-but-professional smile turns into a friendly-but-flirty one. "Excellent. Wonderful company after a dreadfully boring meeting."

Violet blushes, Sina tells him a gentle but confident "thank you," and Kosuke smiles as sweetly as she can. Maybe going for the shyness angle will help her mask the nervousness better.

The blue suit offers his arm to Sina, and a light gray one does the same for Rose. The last is the youngest, in a black three-piece and glasses and neat chestnut hair, and he comes to Kosuke with a smile that (admittedly) could make a girl go weak in the knees. Maybe even Kosuke's, if she were younger and not as paralyzed with anxiety. She still takes his arm, though. It's strange, the warmth of his body against hers.

The only one who stays put is the oldest man, who is neither smiling nor frowning. He instead turns on his heel and heads to the elevator they just emerged from. There's three girls and four men and perhaps four hours to go. Kosuke starts counting seconds.

It's almost like a game of improv. Their "partners" will say something, and then it's on Kosuke, Violet, or Sina to work off of it. They have roles: Violet is the eager-to-please bundle of energy, Sina is the calm and mature enigma, and Kosuke is the shy newcomer who cannot maintain eye contact. It's just one large play. Their names, words, and movements are all acts.

There is also an element of analysis. Kosuke and the other girls are being paid for the pleasure of their company—bad time equals a bad deal. This man wants to see you blush, this one wants to make you laugh, this one has already chosen his favorite, this one is just there for anything. You oblige without breaking character.

The Gray Suit—they surely say their names, but Kosuke loses them just as quickly—wants fun, fun, and fun. Let's do this slot machine, let's go down to the roulette wheel! The Black Suit is flirty but softspoken. Charming, even, and perhaps not at all a bad person—just a guy looking for a fun night with enjoyable company. The Blue Suit is really the flirt, all innuendos and low whispers. Kosuke stands up from sitting beside him once and feels a tug—he'd been touching her hair.

The oldest man keeps to himself, mostly. He's not unkind, but he doesn't play along with any games or jokes. He doesn't like to be ignored, however, and Kosuke and the others make a point to at least acknowledge him every now and then.

Most of their time is spent in the casino. Poker, pool, roulette, so on. When Kosuke accidentally rolls the cue ball into one of the holes, she blushes along with the ribbing. When one of the men makes a good play, she claps. She only says a shy 'no' when she's asked to pull down the arm of a slot machine, but her answer of not being old enough is taken.

Kosuke feels stupid. The whole thing is giving her flashbacks to her elementary plays, when she knew she was acting like a corny robot but was already too embarrassed to try any harder. Kosuke is not giggly, or blushy-shy. She's just badly pretending.

It's especially bad when she fails to get a laugh, or when her act gets exasperation instead of amusement. There are stumbles that turn her blushes real and earn her some unamused looks from Sina.

She's still horribly nervous, but Kosuke's not shaking. It's the touching, the hands on her shoulders or arms, that sicken her. Or the passing looks of people who may know what's happening. Or the Blue Suit's occasional toe over the line.

She dismisses herself to go to the bathroom—another glower from Sina—locks herself in a stall, and breathes. She's not in danger, but she doesn't want to be here. She hates all this acting and touching and the fact that the FRIGGIN' bathroom is one of the prettiest places she's ever been to. She's still sick with herself for doing this at all, for lying.

This reminds her of the letter Minami gave her—the one for Okina. She still doesn't know why Minami would write one at all.

The letter is suddenly in her grasp, out of the purse. She knows she promised she wouldn't, but she's already opening it.

Dear Okina,

Hi! I can't go with Kosuke to the party cause you guys are big kids and you will be out too late. I am sorry I can't see you. I hope you are okay.

Thank you for taking Kosuke to a party. I think it has been a long time since she has been to one. I think she is lonely even though she has a new friend called Haruhi now. Haruhi's really nice and fun but maybe Kosuke still misses you. I miss you too but I know you can't come over anymore cause you live too far away. Maybe you have new friends too. I don't want to be mean but can you please invite Kosuke to more parties or call her on the phone? I think it will make her happy. She doesn't smile a lot any more. Please have fun at your party.

Love, Minami

They ask her to sing karaoke songs. She sings.

They share stories about their colleagues. She laughs.

They compliment her hair, her laugh, her legs. She blushes.

On and on it goes, the minutes stretching longer, past midnight and onward still. Two are drunk, everyone is tired. Why don't they just stop?

Kosuke wishes that she really was on a trip with old friends. Even if it entailed Jet's boundless energy or Tomoko's disinterest—or an awkward blanket over her, Kohta, and Okina. It would be leagues better than this. Plus, her stories of late-night adventures to Haruhi and the children would be real.

The oldest man clears his throat a little past twelve-thirty and declares that he's heading off. The others don't argue for him to stay. Not long after, the Black Suit declares that it's time to wrap things up. The Blue Suit and the Gray Suit protest, but are beaten without any argument, really.

It's only when they give her the 76,000 yen, divided between them, that Kosuke feels relief. The Suits thank the girls for their company, and Kosuke again wonders if the Black Suit is a fine man after all. They depart, the girls not even looking at each other, and Kosuke breathes. She did it. She has 76,000 yen. That's a whole week and then some for the shark.

She stands outside the Blue Tower to hail a taxi cab. As simple as her dress is, she doesn't fit in with the sleek-dressed men and women who pass through the doors, but she can't be paid to care anymore. Kosuke doesn't fit in anywhere in this part of Tokyo, with its skyscrapers and neon lights. The money is heavy in her purse, and soon she'll be at the Fujioka's apartment, slipping in next to the children and drifting off to safe sleep.

"Waiting for a cab?"

Kosuke almost jumps out of her skin.

It's the Blue Suit. Her "least favorite" of them, to put it lightly. He'd touched her hair and complimented her legs and always, even for the most simple things, leaned into whisper in her ear.

Can Kosuke just walk away? Judging by his red face and swaying stance, he's still very drunk. Would he try to grab her? Did the website allow reviews, and would he leave a nasty one for her, ruining her chances of—wait, no. She's not doing this ever again. How the hell is that one of her priorities?

"Yes," she answers with her sugary and fake smile. "Just trying to get home."

"Where do you live?"

What does it matter? "It's a good distance out there." She giggles. Ugh.

She stops giggling when he comes closer.

Then she turns ice-cold when his hand presses against the small of her back.

She can feel the clamminess of it through the dress.

Once again he whispers to her, and the warmth of his breath against her cheek makes her nauseous. More so, because Kosuke realizes she's suddenly very, very sick.

"Why don't you come to my house, instead? It's closer."

Where is a damn cab? Where? Why is one taking so long to show?

(Why did she give the loan shark money?)

Kosuke is panicking. She can feel it like a hard, relentless shaking. She's alone, no familiar faces around for miles, and a very drunk man is breathing on her, touching her, and wants to get her dress off of her. Every instinct in her is yelling to run, or punch him and run. Do something. But she has to think. If she makes a scene, he might get rough with her. Would anyone help, or would they just look and sneer before carrying on? How much faith can Kosuke put into the passerby?

"My family would worry about me."

Now he's holding her arm. "You're safe with me, I promise."

Alright. Screw it. "Please let go of me."

"No need to be scared!" He laughs. "Look, I'll even pay you extra."

Kosuke tries to tug her arm back, but his grip tightens. She has to fight to keep her breath even, because her heart is beating faster and she feels tight all over but the last thing she wants to do is let her fear manifest into pathetic tears and pleads. "I said let go—"

Someone calls a name: his name. Kosuke still doesn't care to catch it.

It's a group of more men in suits, maybe six, and probably from the same meeting Kosuke's group was in. One has his jacket over his arm, but otherwise they seem composed. They must have just been coming out of the lobby.

The one who called—it's the Black Suit, did he meet up with them?—says, "What are you doing?"

The Blue Suit—whose face had just started to twist into annoyance, only making Kosuke panic more—turns, blinks, and smiles. He completely misses the edge of warning in his colleague's voice, letting go of her arm (the skin is left moist) and sauntering their way. Almost as if Kosuke was never there at all. "Hey, fellas! How was your night?"

A cab—oh, thank you—finally pulls up to the curb. Kosuke doesn't hesitate for a second. She flies into it, drowning, and tells the driver the address of the apartment complex in a voice almost too rushed to comprehend. He does. Kosuke is taken away from the Blue Tower and the Blue Suit. She's Alice going back through the looking glass. It's over.

By the time she makes it back, her hands are shaking, and she realizes that 76,000 yen isn't much at all.