Tamaki squinted at Haruhi's handwriting as he typed in the number. The first thing he did was send off a text with an obnoxious amount of emojis along with the words HELLO MA BELLE I MISS YOU!!!!

Beaming, he stood next to Haruhi and waited for her to check her phone. A few minutes passed, and Haruhi turned to show him her blank screen, amused despite herself. "I think you typed in the wrong number, sempai."

At that exact moment Tamaki's phone blipped. He fumed, "Agh! Stop keeping me from family time!" After swiping the notification away, he implored Haruhi to read her number out loud.

Later that day, during class- don't tell his father- Tamaki checked his phone. Swiping through the inbox, he came across the answering message the wrong number had bestowed him with: haha, i'd miss you too, stranger, but you've got the wrong number!

Embarrassed now at the late response, but feeling no other choice but to answer in kind, Tamaki texted back an apology. After a few moments of fiddling with the device, he turned back to the teacher.

But then, a small buzz in his pocket. He felt Kyoya turn to him questioningly, but Tamaki didn't offer an answer, too occupied with his screen. The wrong number- the stranger, to throw their own term back at them- had texted him again.

It's okay. I didn't think I could even get texts here, so don't worry about it.

'Here'. Tamaki found himself focusing on that word choice. Where was 'here', and why did it have such poor phone reception? Perhaps this was a commoner, and thus couldn't afford service? Didn't commoners struggle with... utilities, and things? He found his finger to be dangling just above his keyboard, right above the kanji. But what would he say?

Just as Tamaki was able to ponder it further the teacher, Shimizu-sensei, cleared his throat. Looking up, Tamaki caught the teacher's eyes and gulped, stuffing his phone into his pocket. The thoughts of the stranger were pushed to the side, as were many of life's curiosities.

But underneath the layers of fabric, ever so softly, the phone vibrated once more.

are you okay? greeted him as soon as Tamaki squirrelled away in the bathroom to check his phone. Though he had been confused at the first sight of it, scrolling up revealed that he had accidentally sent a jumble of numbers and letters: Ajq*@8es819

And then, shortly after that one had been sent, another worried message. hey if you're not okay, you have to call someone. i can't get to you from where i am…

Thumbs moving quickly, Tamaki found himself quelling the fears of an absolute stranger. After explaining that Tamaki had been in class and that the stranger had been pocket-texted, a minute or two passed before another message appeared.

oh, i'm glad you're okay. you're in high school? i wish i could have gone, but i missed hell week for something more important.

A smile touched his lips. From what he'd seen and read, the Japanese held responsibilities and hard work in high regard. Then the smile just as quickly fled as he realized the stranger missed their schooling.

He had grown up going to school as soon as he could walk, gone on his entire childhood thinking about earning his baccalauréat* with his mother clapping happily for her son. Now, it would be Tamaki's father and grandmother who would cheer their precious, bastard heir through university. But the stranger would not get any of the satisfaction of either goals, despite the obvious longing.

Typing, he sent, more important? is everything okay?

The stranger sent back, not yet. but… we'll make it right.

His mind wandered back to Haruhi, his little commoner friend, on her first few days here. The girl had been bullied, he knew from the way she had carelessly shown her sliced up fingers from the razor blades hidden in her books. The casual power of the words something more important reminded him of Haruhi, chin up, eyes clear as she looked him in the eye and asked for a bandage. Commoners were so tough. Heavy duty steel versus delicate bone china.

Tamaki stared at his phone, pensive. Only a few minutes left between classes.

Silly, it was silly. Was it silly? It must have been silly of him to want to text them the words sorry to worry you. Clearly they had something heavier on their mind. What good would that do? But he didn't know what else to say. He was reluctant to end their chatter, no matter how absurd the notion was. He didn't know why, though. Perhaps, it was the innate seeing that occurred when two lonely people met each other, even without the actual meeting. Maybe that was it.

Because the stranger was lonely; Tamaki knew that as much as he knew he was blond.

The bell rang, and he jerked in surprise, a short gasp ripped from him. What was with him? Clear concentration seemed like a faraway shore today, and every passing thought was weighted and heavy.

No more thinking. Allowing his fingers to type and trusting the smooth talking part of his brain, Tamaki fired off another message to the stranger- and how exciting it was, he discovered, to message a commoner on a quest. How exotic!

Then he strolled out of the stall, checked his reflection and hurried off to class.

kagome, read Tamaki's screen, and he discovered he had asked for the stranger's name. higurashi, kagome. Tamaki tried the name, rolled it around like a little pearl. He dug out his phone and googled the meaning; his Japanese was fluent, but the etymology was still a tricky thing, seeing as he didn't grow up with the history. It was most likely a girl's name, he knew that.

Her family name meant cricket, which was cute. Kagome was a children's game… was a birdcage… was the stranger.

Suoh. He gave her his real name. Suoh, Tamaki. nice to meet such a lady.

He tried to form an image of her, but couldn't.

Was she tall? Did she have light or dark hair? How was it styled? What color were her eyes? What pitch was her voice-

"Tamaki." Kyoya was in front of him suddenly, and didn't he see that Tamaki was thinking? Tamaki blinked and studied his friend's irate expression. How many times had he been called? It was only after Kyoya snapped his name again did Tamaki fumble for his words.

"Yes, Kyoya?"

Kyoya, upon hearing his tone, instantly dropped his grudge to pick up mother henning with both hands. "What's wrong? You've been distant all day, spacy. If it affects your hosting let me know now, and I can cancel club."

Warmth filled Tamaki at his friend's offer. For his friend to insist on putting the club to the side in sake of his welfare was no little thing and Tamaki knew it. It was harder on Kyoya to generate revenue when club was closed; he needed the figures to be better than good, to show up his father's doubt.

"No, no, I'm fine. You remember, the funny thing that happened yesterday when Haruhi gave everyone her number?"

"Ah, yes, the typo snafu."

Unbeknownst to himself, Tamaki had a boyish grin on his face that took Kyoya aback. The blond leaned forward on his toes, then back down to his heels, full of energy. "Yes, well, I've just been texting little miss typo a bit, is all."

Kyoya studied him, then a slow, disbelieving grin crept across his face. "My god," he laughed. "You're half-besotted with her already."

Tamaki colored. "What?" he demanded loudly. "How can you say that, I haven't even met her!"

Kyoya shushed him, eyes flashing with laughter. "I can tell," said his friend, "I can see you holding back your sighs when you talk about her-"

Tamaki pounced on his friend, and the two of them laughed and scuffled like boys for a few minutes.

As much as Kagome typed about her surroundings, Tamaki couldn't get a grip on exactly where she was. There wasn't a single subway, or train, or any mode of commoner transportation he could list. They passed a few days like this, a back and forth indulgence of curiosity, until Kagome texted that her battery was dying, and her emergency chargers had all been used up. Because apparently, she was in a place that didn't have electricity. How a girl his age survived without it he was quite unsure.

Travelling, Tamaki decided, when this sequence happened again and again over the month. She had to be travelling.

And then came the radio silence. A terrible silence that worried him more than it should- Kagome had shot him a message a few days prior, complaining about having sprained her ankle. Tamaki had asked her to go to a doctor, and she'd replied there's no doctor in this village.

Her number had a Japanese area code, so Kagome was- probably- in Japan.

Just as Tamaki was at his wit's end, after two days passed Kagome shot him a message: i have wi-fi for twenty minutes; i didn't know you were a rich boy, Maki. told mama about you and she shoved your picture in my face. gotta say, you are devilishly handsome.

His ears turned red and he spluttered. Ignoring her attempt at riling him up, Tamaki typed, when are you home for good?

There was a very long break between these messages, so long that Tamaki set his phone down and began to pace before he received an answer.

don't know. maybe never.

what?? where are you going?

some village off in the west. there's a disturbance in the settlements we were sent in to check out.

She was being sent out to places? To villages? For what? What happened to cause a 'disturbance in the settlements' that needed a teenager being dispatched to the scene?

For God's sake, where was she!

When asked, Kagome had sent a cheeky reply: not asking the right question.

And then, just a moment later, a repentant: you shouldn't worry about me. i'm no good for you, handsome.

So everyone says, thought Tamaki, clutching his chest. I wish I knew myself half as well as everyone else seems to.

After exactly one month of texting Kagome, Tamaki could say with great confidence that he had grown fond of her. How could he not? She spoke of so many travels, helping so many people, seeing so many things. Not all good, some downright awful- but not all bad, either.

She messaged him in class that day, just as the teacher began packing up their things.

tamaki, there's a lot i haven't told you.

i'm aware, kagome. i've assumed you had your reasons.

there's a number of them. tamaki. i won't be answering your messages for a while, but don't worry, okay pretty boy?

this sounds dangerous, kagome.

just this last fight and i'm home. just this last fight. it'll be okay.

i'll tell you everything, even if you don't believe me.

kagome?

kagome??? [message failed to send]

Like a rotten log

half buried in the ground -

my life, which

has not flowered, comes

to this sad end.*

His blood ran cold. Three days without a word and suddenly this chilling stanza of them? He texted her something back, something about getting an ambulance, but he didn't quite remember the wording.

In the background, Honey-sempai exclaimed something to a comment of Kaoru's. Mori-sempai let out a noise. Kyoya was watching him. Watching, watching as Tamaki's world seemed to tilt sideways enough that he had to grip a nearby chair with both hands, precious phone falling to the ground and cracking. Watching, as a concerned sort of terror splayed across Kyoya's expression, as his mouth moved, as he got up and strode across the room to Tamaki's side. It was like someone had shot a high caliber gun near Tamaki's ears, for there was nothing to be heard but a high pitched ringing.

i can't… my phone never let me send any messages out- i only ever received yours, isn't that funny?

Funny, he thought numbly. Funny. Merde, what a funny thing, to be talking to a person so sure they were going to die that they sent a poem like that.

A sudden anger gripped him. He was Suoh Suzuru's son. What was he doing, twiddling his thumbs? For the briefest time he had felt powerless, but this- he could help with this, couldn't he?

Tamaki had once had Kyoya trace Kagome's phone a while back, but its signal only showed up at her family's shrine, if at all. But God, oh God, that poem made him want to throw up. They weren't even her words- he had put them into a search engine, hoping it was a code- but it was a death poem.

An uncharacteristically aggressive snarl ripped from him, and he spun to face Kyoya. Tamaki's eyes were clear with intent and his manner focused as he spoke. "Dispatch a medical team out to the Higurashi Shrine. Prepare the closest E.R. room and call on a surgeon. Something's wrong."

"Tamaki-sempai," Haruhi tried, dismayed. "Sit back down. Think this through calmly, that's a big request."

But already, Kyoya was delivering orders through his phone, snagging some of Tamaki's items to pack his bag for his friend.

Haruhi hadn't yet grasped the severity of the issue, and how could she? She didn't know Kagome. Did he? Did Tamaki know this strange woman, who's face he had not once seen?

Yes. Yes, he did. Tamaki thought it, and then repeated it out loud. It silenced everyone else in the room, had them looking at him. I do know her, of course I do. For God's sake. For God's sake. If she's not at home then she's dead.

His own voice finally came to his ears, loud and clashing like broken dishes.

"Send them."

They arrived at just the right time. Any longer, her mother had wept, and my baby would be dead.

That haunted him, a bit. Unhappy mothers always did, but something about seeing Mme* Higurashi, with her flowery apron and house sandals, crying when the private ambulance picked her daughter up… it had torn at him, and Tamaki had been moved to console her.

Thank God for it though, because otherwise he wouldn't have a clue on what to do with himself. The other hosts had taken to distracting her little brother, and there in a corner, Kyoya spoke with the family patriarch, Kagome's grandfather.

Kagome had been injured, and she had been home. His hunches had been right on all accounts, especially the one that screamed she would die without interference. She was bad off, he knew, for Tamaki had seen her as she was jostled onto the stretcher.

"Be careful!" he snapped. "Can't you be more careful?"

Kagome's eyes opened and her head sluggishly turned towards him. She smiled with closed lips, but he could see the blood staining her teeth when she spoke.

"Hi, handsome. You okay?"

Her first words to him. Tamaki wanted to cry. Coughing up blood was bad, wasn't it? Where was Kyoya, Kyoya would set this straight. Kyoya would fix her.

"Hi, beautiful," he said, ignoring his thoughts and trying to not feel like a lunatic. There was just an upsetting amount of blood though, that any good man would be perturbed by it. "How do you feel?"

She lifted her bloodied hand, to his horror, and gave him a silent so-so. By now they had loaded her up in the ambulance and injected her with pain meds. Tamaki watched as Mori-senpai shut the ambulance doors, his watchful gaze on the two strangers. With a faint thump the door closed, and off they went.

As Tamaki watched the male nurse adjust the level of whatever fluid was in the IV, a strange laugh bubbled out of him. He couldn't help the hysterical relief. Just in time, he thought. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but Tamaki rubbed at them tiredly. Just in time.

"Hey."

Both he and the nurse looked, but Kagome had eyes only for Tamaki. Her gaze was full of pain, and sleepy, but she didn't waver in the stare she pinned him with.

"You're even cuter than your picture," Kagome said very seriously. That… was probably the meds that had her talking so freely. "Go on a date with me?"

Tamaki just stared at her. His voice was trembling when he spoke. "I thought you were going to die."

"Me too. I'm not, though. And I'm done travelling. I'm- I finished what I had to do so I could come back." Kagome's face was scratched to all hell, covered in blood and she was bleeding out. But she looked like she wanted to sit up, despite all of it, and get a better look at Tamaki, to drink him in like he had her. She looked eager to see him, like the very sight of him would cause color to rush back into her cheeks.

"So," she said lightly. "What about a date, good looking?"

Tamaki could have cried, could have kissed her right then. Of course, he would wait until the drugs were out of her system before asking her anything like that. "Alright," he said, sniffling. "Alright, you crazy woman. Alright. But you'll tell me what led up to this?"

The sweetest smile curled up on Kagome's mouth. It must have tugged at her scraped skin but nothing in her body language spoke of anything but utter relaxation. She reached for his hand and he let her.

"Suoh, Tamaki," she said. "I'll tell you anything."

baccalauréat: a French academic qualification. Received upon completion of secondary education.

Minamoto Yorimasa's death poem, 1104-1180

Mme is short for Madame