Haruhi and her father had a lawfully binding arrangement when it came to robbers that slunk into their house in the dark of night, full of cowardly greed or spiteful anger.

It was as peculiar as it sounded, but not as unexplainable nor as unfounded: after Haruhi's mother fell ill and died, the breaches in security peaked with the get-well cards sent from their competitors. Miniscule, state of the art bugs littered the baskets of well-wishers and Haruhi had seen it for what it was, despite the protective shield her father had tried to cast.

Soon Haruhi stopped giving interviews to magazines who wanted use their grief for profit (her father had never offered a word and her mother, early in her sickness, had stared them down and told them they weren't welcome). She arranged for every card of condolence and object of pity to be incinerated, even the ones that had no evidence of foul play. Kotoko wasn't mentioned, and when she was it was only in the vaguest sense. The memory of her faded like dust into the wind.

If Kotoko was like dust then the intruders were mountains: the house soon became known for its high tech gears and hair-trigger alarms. Every spy sentenced to ten years in jail was a chisel gnawing away at the mountainous surface, and the once unsurmountable disaster slowed to a trickle, though the intruders never seemed completely gone.

At eight and nine months she saw one of the 'heartless' robbers crying, pleading that she was threatened and that her children needed her. At eight, nine months, and a day Haruhi had gotten her a legal job on the other side of the country.

At eight and ten months she drew up a contract and insisted that her father sign it.

Haruhi was intelligent; she knew that people weren't above lying to avoid disaster. But she was also patient and observant in a way people thought was past her; she could dissect a person's motives without thinking and ask questions that startled them into an obvious lie or a hurtful truth. The contract let her decide if they were criminals or victims themselves.

The last break in had occurred a year ago, marked by a big red circle on the calendar that hung in Ryouji's bedroom; her father had popped open a bottle of sparkling cider in celebration of the landmark. Haruhi had put away her complaints of frivolity and for a night it was just them, a father and his daughter.

The blaring, screeching alarm that was screaming through the house laughed at the idea.

Uggg, guess we jinxed it.

Haruhi sat up slowly, the bags under her eyes reaching the tops of her checks. The silk sheet on her bed—usually so light—seemed to weigh her body down, and the cover beneath her clung tightly to her skin.

Muddled voices filled her ears as she woke up, breaking through the sound resistance walls. Her dad's shrill yet gruff voice was among them. They were yelling (screeching, almost) but they were so far away Haruhi couldn't hear the words.

It wasn't hard to find the culprits; all she had to do was follow the yelps and screams until her ears started bleeding. She wasn't surprised to find herself in front of the first storage room. It would be more aptly called the Captured Spies Room (as that was where they were almost always placed) but 'first storage room' caused less questions.

She was surprised to see a blond being crushed under her father's foot.

"Dad?" she asked, her voice only slightly incredulous. One of the boys who had the luxury of standing mouthed 'dad' with the same bemused expression she was wearing.

Ryoji "Ranka" Fujioka, age 35, was the CEO of The Fujioka Law Firm, but couldn't have fit the stereotype for a business man less. He was notoriously feminine to the point of crossdressing, and easily excited. He could be violent if needed, but he preferred hiding insults in pretty words; cutting statements that people wouldn't realize had sliced them until later. The blunt show of force was more astounding than the fact that they were being robbed.

Ranka grinned when he caught sight of Haruhi, but stomped down harder than before.

"Sorry for waking you up, Haruhi dear," her dad simpered sweetly, as if he had caused her consciousness rather than the still screaming bells. "It appears I've found some insects to exterminate."

"Dad," Haruhi said, her tone resigned yet accusatory, "you know our deal." She glanced at the blonde below his foot again and felt a moment's pity. "And if you keep doing that he'll be able to sue us."

"Ah, but you know how much I detest vermin sweetie," Ryoji said, his voice going dangerously low.

"It appears we have had a slight misunderstanding," a black haired boy spoke up, smiling apologetically. Haruhi rolled her eyes, too tired to hide it.

"I'm already going to interview you all; you don't need to plead your case."

The light glinted off the black-haired boy's glasses, and it seemed almost painful for him to step back and bow in apology. The gesture seemed mocking, though there were no over-dramatics or exaggerated hand gestures. The other boys seemed shocked she wasn't dead where she stood.

"My apologies," he said after a second, and Haruhi decided it was his expression. His tone was clipped too, but Haruhi ignored both, resolving that her father was more of an issue than a commoner's impertinence.

"Dad," Haruhi said as she walked over, "I can hear you grinding his bones to dust; I don't care what he did: Get off." She didn't give him a chance to argue (he had already opened his mouth) but instead grabbed his wrist and pulled. He went flying, arms wind milling around in an attempt to regain his balance.

"Haruhi—!" her father exclaimed, childish moue contrasting sharply with righteous anger in his eyes.

"I'm going to interview them now," she interrupted evenly.

"No!" Ranka declared, insistent. "Not this time."

"No?" Haruhi repeated, not expecting it despite the warning signs. This is more serious than I thought. "Why not? It's what always happens."

"Always?" one of the trespassers mimicked. "This time?" the other, identical person next to him said. Haruhi pretended she hadn't heard.

"They were trying to get into your room, Haruhi!" Ranka growled, and sent a vicious glare to the trespassers. "Jail would be too good for such insects."

"You're overreacting," Haruhi complained, though she took note that all of the robbers were male and her father was notoriously protective before softening her tone. "Did they even realize it was my room?"

Because despite her father's proclamations of imprisonment, the trespassers lacked any malice in their stances or guilt that hunched their spines. Their outfits were all overly black, to the point of absurdity, and looked to be around Haruhi's age.

"I didn't!" The blond wailed, turning to her but not standing up. "I would have never—a princess should never be—"

"I'm not a princess," Haruhi interrupted duly, purely factual, but the blond's eyes widened comically in disagreement. Haruhi had no doubt he would have argued had he been given the chance, but another trespasser, the one who had been mockingly polite, covered his mouth.

"Now's not the time," he said, somehow making the words sound like a threat. Something her father picked up on.

"Oh, and I suppose you'd blackmail him if he didn't?" Ranka spit angrily, his phone alit with what Haruhi knew were the files the guards had sent. "It's seems to be a reoccurring situation for you."

"Kyoya never blackmailed anyone!" the blond exclaimed, eyes fiercer than when he had been being crushed under Ranka's foot. "He isn't that type of person!"

"Oh?" Ranka raised his eyebrows. "The charges against him would disagree."

"He—"

"Those charges were dropped when the accuser was explained the consequences of lying in court," Kyoya interrupted, still wearing the too cold smile. "And I have no doubt that even if they hadn't been dropped, the lack of evidence would have proven me innocent."

Ranka scoffed, disbelieving, but didn't deign to drag it out further. Instead he focused his comments on the pair of twins, their side comments apparently too annoying for him to ignore.

"And those two?"

"What do you mean?" the blond asked in confusion. "Hikaru and Kaoru—"

"Were declared guilty of stealing a car and sent to a summer camp for criminal delinquents," Ranka said in cruel satisfaction, smiling. "In middle school."

"Dad!" Haruhi exclaimed, aghast, but was unknowingly interrupted.

"Is that—" true, the blond didn't finish, but his voice was raw with emotions and the twins didn't answer. They were tightly gripping each other's hands, and one of them was shaking. The hurt in the blond's eyes faded away as he noticed the faint tremors, replaced with steely determination. He turned to Ranka resolutely, finally standing.

"I've apologized for trespassing, but no matter what Hikaru and Kaoru did, sir, I'd rather hear it from them than from some rich person who's only trying to hurt them." His voice was clear and rang through the room, but his eyes were the most striking part of him, slightly narrowed as they were. "Frankly, it's none of your business."

Ranka fumed, but Haruhi agreed—and she said as much.

"Dad, he's right. People who have been guilty of murder have tried to rob us before, and you've been more civil with them than these guys. The only reason you don't want me to interview them is because they were trying to get into my room!"

"You're too kind to—"

"You're too overprotective!" Haruhi near shouted, only to take a breath to calm herself. Arguing with her father wouldn't get them anywhere. ""But if it matters that much to you, a guard can be in the room and you can watch from the surveillance room."

Ranka stared at her, wordlessly begging her to change her mind, but Haruhi met his eyes and stood her ground. Eventually, her father sighed.

"You aren't going to back down on this, are you?" he murmured rhetorically.

"I'm not," Haruhi replied anyway.

"There's still the issue of what they broke," Ranka said, reluctant to let any misstep go, but his eyes had the slightest glimmer of pride. "You . . . really are a lot like your mother, Haruhi."

Haruhi smiled, both at the comparison and his compliance to her wishes.

"Thank you." She would have continued, but Ranka turned suddenly to the group of trespassers, glare back in place but this time exaggerated to absurdity.

"But if any of you even think about touching my precious Haruhi, I will make sure you end up in jail, got it?"

The boys nodded, some defensive and some fearful, and Ranka turned towards the guards in the corner.

"If any of these insects get within five feet of Haruhi, you are to consider it a threat, understand?" They did, and Ranka left the room with a distrustful glare.

Haruhi lost the casual posture she had had before, her back straightened but not stiff. Her father may have been acting like she saw the trespassers as blameless victims, but she was not nearly so dull nor naïve. Regardless of any reasoning, the group had broken in and that left something to be desired.

But why had they broken in? Greed? Revenge? Haruhi glanced over them all, picking out a nervous tick in the tallest's hand as she tried to find the answer.

The tall one was crouching slightly in order to murmur to another (he's even shorter than me!) but he wasn't getting a response. His partner was staring unabashedly at Haruhi, and though his gaze appeared childish at first glance, the longer Haruhi thought about it the more unsettling it was and soon she turned away.

The one who had been under her father's foot had the beginnings of a boorish bruise blossoming on his check, but instead of leaving a frightening visage or a pitiable one, it somehow made him seem innocent; as if the he would be as surprised looking in a mirror as someone who saw him in the street. His protectiveness from earlier was gone, replaced with large, puppy-dog eyes that really didn't belong on someone who might be going to jail before the night ends. It was disconcerting, and after a moment Haruhi took her phone out.

Bring an icepack to the first unused storage room please, she texted to her oldest made, a girl named Kimiko. Seconds later it pinged with affirmation.

She glanced back up, eyes passing over a black haired boy with a cool gaze that reminded her of her wealthy classmates and settling on the pair of twins.

They had startlingly orange hair and black clothing. All of them were wearing black, she now realized, but none looked so absurd as the blond her father had stepped on. He had every inch of skin possible covered with some sort of dark cloth, and had even gone to the lengths of painting his cheeks black. It would have looked professional if his coat wasn't puffy and too large, and if his bright blond hair didn't draw attention to him like a beacon.

The twins, by comparison, looked positively stylish with their black jeans and t-shirts coupled with a simple jacket. She recalled what the blond had called them—Hikaru and Kaoru—and vaguely wondered which was which.

As a whole the group seemed as unusual as their hair colors. But what seemed absurd by themselves somehow became lost in the overall oddness of them combined, leaving the untrue impression that they were perfectly normal.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and without bothering to look at it she spun on her heel and walked to the door, opening it to reveal her maid. Kimiko had seen a lot in her long service of the Fujiokas, but even she blinked at the odd assortment of men in the room.

"Miss?" she asked, resolutely ignoring the others. "I have the icepack you requested."

"It's for the blond," Haruhi responded.

"Which one?"

"Er, the taller one." She turned towards the others. "What are your names by the way? It's confusing referring to you by hair color."

"Ah!" The (taller) blond shot up like a bullet. "How rude of me to not introduce myself to such an exquisite princess! How my heart yearns we could have met under less incriminating circumstances. But alas, not even the most handsome prince can turn back time, and I am but a lowly servant compared to all of your overwhelming beauty."

Kimiko passed him the icepack without pause, but Haruhi wasn't as unperturbed.

What?

It wasn't like he was the first robber to try flirt with her to get out of a punishment, but they were subtle. A deliberate glance to the side, a casual mention of her beauty. Nothing like this.

"—tears at me like man in a lion's den, yet what a wonderful sacrifice to undertow for such a—"

Haruhi blinked slowly. The bruises on the man's face were darkening as he spoke, but with the energetic gesturing going on Haruhi wondered if he even needed the ice pack. She waited another few seconds to see if he would say his name, but when he started going off on Roman mythology, she tried to bring the conversation back to topic.

"You do realize I just asked for your name, right?" she asked, part of her actually curious. He froze, a strangled sound escaping from his throat, then walked over to the corner and curled up in a ball, sullenness curling around his shoulders.

Seriously, what the hell? I was just asking.

Haruhi gave him an odd look before forcing herself to look at the others.

"I . . ." she faltered slightly, recognizing the confusion in her voice and hating it. "I will be interviewing you as a group then as individuals. And this would go a lot smoother if I knew your names without any of you doing," she waved her hand in the direction of the blonde, "that."

. . . o0o . . .

Haruhi had been taught by private tutors for the majority of her life, and the few joint classes she had gone to only had five people at most. As such, she had always figured that all the fake TV shows with overly loud classroom and incompetent teachers were exactly that—fake. She'd even thought that she would be a good teacher, if she wasn't destined to take over the Fujioka Law Firm.

Surrounded by so-called high schoolers who belonged in elementary at best, Haruhi realized she wasn't nearly patient enough.

If it was possible to hear emotions, she would sound like chalk screeching on a chalkboard.

"—but then Tamaki jumped and—"

"—must've sent the wrong thing—"

"—insisted on these ridiculous costumes, really boss, what were you thinking?—"

"—the ground was swampy, but I persevered and—"

"—everyone was running around and it was so hard to see—"

"—must've taken an hour just to move from—"

"—is actually really funny, ya see—"

"—quiet chaotic—"

"Hmm," Morinozuka Takashi grunted, the only person who had yet to say something.

The chalk snapped.

"That's enough," Haruhi tried to demand, but the boys were too loud to hear her. "Hey, I said—THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Silence reigned, but its kingdom was threatened by Tamaki's overblown despair. Haruhi breathed deeply.

"This isn't working," she said simply, though her chest felt tense in frustration. "Obviously the group interview isn't going to work, so we'll skip to the individuals. My guards will separate you all and I'll interview you one by one."

Haruhi sent them all a piercing stare, but even they understood simple annoyance; maybe her sharp words had reminded them of the all-too-real possibility of jail time, because no one said a word.

Two guards walked in from outside, no doubt signaled from her father who was watching in the surveillance room, but Tamaki sent her an awed look as if she had summoned them wordlessly.

Idiot.

"Hey!" one of the twins shouted, and Haruhi reluctantly looked over; her body took the moment to generously remind her of her lack of sleep.

The twin who had shouted was standing defensively in front of the other, his eyes fiercely angry and slightly fearful. His twin's hand was on his shoulder, but it wasn't so much calming as it was possessive; the clothing crinkled where he held onto his brother.

"What are you doing?" the one in front demanded. Haruhi sighed again.

"They're separating you two," Haruhi answered. "As I said they would all of a minute ago."

Both twins frowned, perplexing Haruhi. (Did they think they were an exception or something?) They grasped for each other's hand desperately, like kids at a playground only with more urgency.

"Look," the more talkative twin started, turning to look at Haruhi, only to be promptly interrupted by Kyoya.

"In case you've forgotten," he said icily, "Haruhi is the sole determining factor in whether we are arrested before the night is out; and in any case I'd like to think you'd rather be apart for five-to-ten minutes rather than five-to-ten years."

His words, laid out simply like a fact but stated like a threat, quieted the complaints quickly; the twins left, grumbling but very pale. Everyone followed peacefully, and Haruhi took a deep breath.

Mother, please look after me.

. . . o0o . . .

"Which one are you?" Haruhi asked bluntly to the redhead across from her.

"Can't you guess?" he returned, his coy tone seemingly intertwined ever-so-slightly with bitterness.

"Technically I could, but you never told me which was which in the first place, so it wouldn't exactly be fair," Haruhi replied evenly, only for the other boy's expression to turn confused.

"You introduced yourselves as Hikaru and Kaoru," she explained. "You never said which was which."

The boy blinked, then laughed.

"Guess not."

. . . o0o . . .

Haruhi stared at the new redhead, exactly the same as his twin in appearance except in his hair-part. Her own calmness seemed to infuriate him.

"Did you really steal a car?" she asked, partly to distract him but mostly because she was genuinely interested.

"What?" he asked almost immediately, his voice an odd mix of anger and confusion. A second later he scowled. "That whole thing was out of context."

Haruhi waited patiently, but the twin stubbornly kept his mouth closed. She sighed.

"Look Hikaru, I—"

"Kaoru," he cut in.

"Huh?" Haruhi said, not attempting to hide her crinkled eyebrows. He smirked.

"You got it wrong. I'm Kaoru."

"Funny," Haruhi said, a smile in her voice that she felt tempted to hide, "your brother claimed the same thing."

. . . o0o . . .

Takashi Morinozuka, despite the blank-like expression he had had on while the disastrous 'group interview' was taking place, looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"You can take your time," Haruhi mentioned. "Just talk when you're ready."

"Ah."

. . . o0o . . .

Mitsukuni looked at her the same way he had earlier, analytic but not unkind, and Haruhi decide to let him start the conversation: something she rarely did.

After a minute the small boy smiled largely, his spikes replaced with flowers. It was so completely different from his previous look that Haruhi actually blinked.

"Can I call you Haru?" he suddenly asked, his eyes wide and looking like the kid Haruhi had originally mistaken him for.

She said yes, if only because the night couldn't get any odder.

. . . o0o . . .

Tamaki tried to tackle her as soon as he entered the room, only to blink and suddenly be facing two of Haruhi's guards.

He paled slightly, glancing over at Haruhi with something akin to fear.

"My father is watching from the video room, remember?" she reminded him. "It would probably be in your best interests to stay at least five feet away from me. My dad is really protective."

Tamaki's eyes seemed sad for some reason, but Haruhi ignored it and sent her guards away.

. . . o0o . . .

"I couldn't help but notice," Haruhi said, her eyes ice to match Kyoya's, "that neither you nor Tamaki have last names."

"Orphans typically don't," he replied, using the same tone Haruhi did.

They both stared at each other, eyes slightly narrowed, and Haruhi curtly started the interview.

. . . o0o . . .

"I believe them," Haruhi announced to her father. "All of their details matched up but not to the point of absurdity."

"And what exactly would those details be?" he asked in return. It wasn't a surprising question: he would have been able to hear what they were saying, but his pettiness had probably kept him from paying any attention.

"Apparently, they had been dared to enter an abandoned building by a classmate. Said classmate decided it would be funny to send the wrong address."

"Does the classmate have a name?"

"Would you be able to hear it without suing them?"

"Good point. But if he's the one that caused that thing to try to enter your room . . ." Ranka trailed off, his eyes narrowing in anger.

"Exactly why I didn't say it in the first place. But there is one thing that troubles me." Ranka glanced over at her curiously and Haruhi took a deep breath. "From what I gather, they were in the 2nd floor main hallway when they broke something."

Ranka frowned, but nodded nonetheless. "They showed up on the motion sensors."

"Have you—?"

"I didn't get a chance." He paused. "Will it affect what happens to them?"

Haruhi pursed her lips and didn't answer.

. . . o0o . . .

Haruhi walked through the hallways surely but silently, her slipper-clad feet not making a sound. She had considered telling the group of six beforehand what she was doing, but she had never been one for unnecessary dramatics. Besides, she wanted to discover this herself and something told her the boys wouldn't wait calmly while Haruhi found out.

So Haruhi walked the long halls by herself, her heart rate increasing at a worrying pace.

There were only two objects that could shatter the way the boys had described: a vase worth three million yen and a handmade piece of pottery.

It seemed to take hours to reach the right hallway, no matter how large she made her steps. She flicked the light on with ease, the black room suddenly filling with bright light. Usually Haruhi would look away for her eyes to adjust, but at the moment it was the last thing on her mind.

The actual hallway was simple enough, with paintings of flowers and fantastical views lining the wall and a single white console table pushed up against the wall. The table held two bouquets of calla lilies, the vases they were held in older than her father. In between them laid a red hand-made container, and on the floor were the remains of an antique Chinese vase, shattered into millions of pieces.

The pieces ranged from big to just plain dust, and Haruhi could even spot the piece Tamaki had claimed to have gotten a cut from. The beautiful design couldn't even be made out anymore, and the clear plastic coating could be seen just barely peeking out on some of the pieces. Even with all her money, Haruhi knew it was unfixable.

She could have sung.

Haruhi stretched her hand across the shards, going on her tip-toes to reach the red container and bring it to her chest. Haruhi nearly collapsed in relief when she felt its rough bumps and slight crevices. It was rude and crude and quite frankly ugly, but it was also the first and last piece of pottery her mother had made; it was something wholly, completely, and utterly Kotoko.

The Chinese vase—while moderately expensive—was replaceable. But no amount of money could bring Haruhi's mother back from the dead.

. . . o0o . . .

Haruhi hadn't even taken a single step into the 2nd storage room before she was bombarded with questions.

"Why didn't you tell us you were going to put us in the same room after the stupid interviews?" the twins were the first to ask. The second twin had adamantly insisted he was also Kaoru, and Haruhi wasn't sure which one was lying.

"I didn't think I'd need to," Haruhi replied honestly. "The only reason you were separated was so none of you would be able to come up with a cover story. Once you were interviewed that was no longer necessary."

"That's why you talked to the twins first, right?" Huni—as he had insisted she call him—asked eagerly, looking at her happily. "So they'd be able to be together again?"

"Technically I just wanted to get them out of the way," Haruhi admitted, surprised he had noticed it at all, "but I suppose it helped."

Huni frowned, and Haruhi couldn't help but be reminded of a disappointed parent.

"As fascinating as this is," Kyoya cut in, his voice saying the opposite of his words, "I'd prefer to know if I have to invest in a lawyer."

"Well," Haruhi said slowly, mentally bracing herself for the oncoming slaughter of voices, "I've talked to my father, and you have two options. The first is obvious: we call the police and you go to jail."

"No thanks," the twins said.

"The second option is this: we don't call the police, but you agree to pay for the vase you broke."

More than one person reached for their wallets, but Kyoya stopped them with a simple gesture of his hand. His eyes were suspicious.

"And this vase costs how much exactly?" he asked.

"Three million yen."

The six men looked at her like she was insane, their eyes almost comically wide. More than one of them looked close to fainting, and Tamaki put a hand on the wall to steady himself. The twins clutched each other's hand tightly. Huni was coaxing the seemingly-in-shock Mori into sitting down, his own face deathly pale, and Kyoya's glasses glinted dangerously. None of them seemed able to form a legible response.

"That's a—you're not—it's not actually—" the second twin started, but ended up just staring at Haruhi in silent astonishment.

"Divided between the six of you, it only comes up to five hundred thousand," Haruhi added, hoping it would help.

It didn't. In fact, one of the twin's golden eyes seemed to smolder in anger, but it was like trying to start a fire with wet cloth: his shock overcame his anger.

"Princess," Tamaki said, seemingly too surprised to be loud and shaking his head incredulously. "We can't afford that. It's impossible!"

"I know."

"Then why the fuck did you even give us a second option?" the same twin from earlier tried to yell, but it came out more as a whisper.

"Because," Haruhi said, "I have an alternative."

"Which is?"

Haruhi bit back the urge to say he would know already if he hadn't kept interrupting her. She couldn't exactly blame him for being angry. She would be too. But that didn't stop her from being curt.

"Work."

A/N 1/1/2017: Hey guys! I've recently been editing and reworking the first few chapter of this story. When I'm done that I'll go on with the story. Sorry for the long hiatus!