I nervously fiddled with my backpack as I followed the gun-wielding guard down a corridor filled with elegant paintings and antique-looking furniture. Rain pattered on the windows and the sky stayed the typical cloudy grey that was common in Russia. An armed guard stood at every door we passed. Most leaned against the wall in a relaxed manner, but their eyes stayed alert to all movement with hands resting on their weapons. Almost all had tattoos wrapping up their arms under their sleeves or around their necks.

Nekozawa was probably up on the second or third floor. This was his family's estate in Russia, and it was magnificently huge, like the magic castles out of a princess movie. Only more scary-looking people inside of this one, and a lot more guns. My sponsor allowed me to stay here instead of the hotel arrangements he provided once he heard Nekozawa's family name. I guess he was ok with it as long as I was making rich friends. But once we landed and the fancy black car came for us and the yakuza-looking driver stepped out, I wondered if the hotel might be better.

"This will be your room here." Forcing my brain back to Russian was more difficult than I remembered. I stopped behind the guard at maybe the fourth or fifth door down, where he set my suitcase on the floor with a grunt. Another guard stood by the door. One look made me shiver. He had dyed burgundy hair against pale white skin and chocolate brown eyes. Tribal tattoos hugged his neck, easily visible beneath his black button-up that was left open over his chest. It hinted at the rest of his muscular body. A toothy grin spread across his face when he saw me and I noticed the scar over his left eye, cutting through his eyebrow on one end. To top it all off, he held a large rifle and had another holstered pistol at his hip. Dear Lord. "Nikolai will be your guard and your guide while you stay with us," he gestured to the intimidating figure by my door before leaving back down the hall.

"I'll grab your suitcase." His voice was smooth and silky even though his aura was overpowering. I imagined it was like a hypnotic trap set by a hunter for a small rabbit. Or bird, in my case. He also had a thick dialectic accent that confused the crap out of the rusty translator in my brain. He opened the heavy wooden door for me while he took my bag and motioned for me to go through. I did so quickly, avoiding his gaze. One thing I promised myself was never to make him angry.

I looked around the room in surprise and awe- high ceiling, huge fluffy comforter, ostentatious curtains, embossed dark wallpaper, a huge bathtub settled into the ground and separated from the rest of the room by an ornately carved partition. "Wow," I whispered as I looked around, touching the soft fabric of the bedspread. "I've never seen anything like this."

"I could say the same." I jumped at the suggestive mumble by my ear and the pressing of a warm, muscular body against me. Wasn't sure if that was his gun I felt on my lower back or something else... Quickly I worked myself out from between his body and the bedframe, but not before his hands felt up pretty intimate parts of me. While I stepped away from him and covered myself with a self-conscious blush, he only smiled another toothy grin and didn't bother to hide his roaming gaze.

"Sorry, that's not..." I struggled to form a sentence, very surprised at how forward he was. "I'm not-"

"You can call me Niki." He spoke and carried himself with such confidence, like nothing had happened, that he was only that much more intimidating. Maybe it was my recent kidnapping and torture experience, but I'd since developed some paranoia. Just a few moments ago, stuck between him and the bed, I realized I was incredibly vulnerable. If he'd decided to do anything, I wouldn't be able to defend myself. I shuddered at the thought of what could've happened to me. His grin widened when he saw my expression. What a weirdo. Does terror turn him on or something? "The young master told us you were coming to Russia to perform. We arranged the music room for you to practice in. I'll take you there."

He nodded his head toward the door, urging me to go out. I speed-walked past him so he wouldn't touch me and waited for him in the hallway. He doesn't have anything to say for himself? Like this is just a normal occurrence for him? He came out behind me and shut the door, pulling a key from his pocket and locking it. "Only we have the key," he said as though reassuring me. But the fact that he had it didn't make me feel much better. Hopefully Nekozawa could get me a new guard.

I remembered our conversation on the plane as I followed the perv guide to the music room. He didn't bother to wear the sunglasses or the dark wig or the black cape on our trip, although he brought the cape with him. "I was sensitive to light, and passed out if it was too bright." He fiddled with his new platinum-blonde hair and glanced out the window while he thought. "I wore dark clothes, dark hair, contacts, and never went outside if I didn't have to. It's been this way for years. My sister even didn't recognize me as her brother anymore. But when that experiment happened, and I merged with the fox... They'd taken my contacts and hair after that, forcing me to notice I no longer needed them." He turned to me and smiled a little forcefully. "I suppose that's one good result from the experiment."

I too had noticed that in addition to my better singing, my eyesight had improved slightly. Maybe I should take singing lessons to refine this new talent, I thought as Niki opened a grand gold-decorated door behind which lay a large, tall-ceilinged, midnight-red ballroom. Gorgeous black drapes had been pulled aside from high, thin windows revealing a beautiful view of perfectly-manicured gardens being drenched by the downpour. In the center of the room stood a handsome grand piano, matte-black and well-polished. I walked towards the bench and saw it was a Bösendorfer. My fingers itched to play it and at the same time I was scared of smudging it, or tainting it in some way.

"The family doesn't play." I glanced at the perv who had followed me and leaned against one of the nearby pillars. He shrugged nonchalantly. "They just own the best of everything. So it's never been used before."

Oh boy. I gulped and let my fingers hover above the keys as I decided what to play. Took a deep breath and began the Brahms 16 waltzes. Such rich sound, so vibrant! I'd never played on a piano of this caliber of craftmanship. Even though they apparently didn't play it, the Nekozawa family took great care of the instrument: it was in tune, no dust, and the strings sounded new. These waltzes sounded the best that I've ever played them, and I got lost in the beautiful reverberation of the huge room and the marble floors. Closed my eyes and even forgot that the perv was standing only a few feet away.

I stopped after about 10 minutes- who knows how much my sponsor would make me play while I'm here. I didn't need to wear myself out anymore than necessary to practice before recitals. I wish I could take this piano back with me. My stomach growled, interrupting my thoughts. Maybe Niki could tell me where to find some food. I turned around to ask him-

"Hello!"

A young girl sat on the floor behind me. She couldn't have been more than five or six, with long blonde hair and wide blue eyes just like Nekozawa's. She was smiling and holding a small Beelzenef plushie and just staring at me intently. A few feet away behind her stood two more guards, each with huge guns at their sides. It took me a second to realize that she'd spoken Japanese, not Russian. Great, I thought. Just as I was getting my brain to switch back to Russian, I had to do both. "Hello," I responded back after a moment. "What's your name?"

"Kirimi," she answered solemnly. "Are you friends with my older brother?"

The way she stared at me was a little intimidating, but she spoke very politely. "Yes, I am. Thank you very much for letting me stay here with you both." I stood from the bench and bowed in thanks.

She smiled even wider, a little more relaxed. "He told me you were a great piano player. What you played was really pretty! Do you have more?"

Although I was hungry and wanted to save my playing for recitals, I nodded and patted the bench beside me. She jumped up off the floor and sat next to me in excitement. "Would you like to play- let's see..." I put my finger to my chin in thought. "...5 notes for me?"

Her eyes widened when she realized she would also get to play. She gently pushed down the keys with confidence. Luckily they were mostly in the same key. "Very good choice!" I praised and she beamed up at me. I started to play using her notes as a melody, this time not a waltz but a wistful and melancholic ballade. She stared at my hands as they wove the improvised spell that floated hauntingly through the hall. My stomach really started resisting after about five or so minutes of this though, and I brought it to a close.

She clapped again after the final note. "Can you play more?" she begged in excitement as she played with the Beelzenef doll in her lap.

"Hm..." I rubbed my aching stomach in thought. "I would actually like to eat something now, if you don't mind. But later tonight I have a performance at the Bolshoi Theatre tonight." Pulled out my phone to double check the recital program that my sponsor had sent me for tonight. "It's in 5 hours. It looks like I'll be playing Glinka's transcription of The Lark." I sighed as I read the program. He was starting me off easy tonight. "But before that I play the Liszt Sonata in B minor."

I take it back. My sponsor is trying to kill me.

"Let's go to the dining room and eat, then." Kirimi hopped off the bench and waited for me as I closed the lid. Then she walked towards one of the doors at the side of the hall and I followed her, our three guards behind us a few feet. "I can't wait to hear you tonight. I've never been to a piano performance before."

I did my best to answer her curious questions as I followed her down another hallway, past another grandiose and perfectly-decorated sitting room, another spacious ballroom, a sunroom- the palace seemed to be endless, and so did the guards. How many people live here?? We turned finally into a huge dining hall and I'd never felt so out of place before. High ceilings, a majestic red carpet, a long mahogany dining table, red-cushioned chairs, embossed gold and red wallpaper... I would feel more comfortable on a stage in front of thousands of people than I do in this room right now. Nekozawa didn't tell me his home would be this... extravagant. I mean, everyone going to Ouran is probably wealthy, but this was beyond my expectations.

A guard pulled out one of the exquisite chairs and Kirimi hopped up onto it, her golden hair bouncing around her shoulders. Beelzenef was placed on the table in front of her, smiling mischievously. Before I could touch the chair across from her, Niki pulled it out for me with one hand, the other still holding his rifle nonchalantly like it was a book and not a deadly weapon. I smiled tensely and sat down, constantly aware of his presence around me. I didn't want to spend this trip being paranoid all the time.

"Oniisan!" I looked up and saw Nekozawa enter the room. This was the first time I'd seen him in something other than his cloak or the school uniform. Instead of the baby blue blazer and the pressed black pants, he wore black jeans and a black button up collared shirt. His flawless porcelain skin was complimented well by the dark color and his naturally golden hair. Every time I saw him now without the dark wig and clothes, I was sort of mesmerized. The memory of him rescuing me from my cell back at the magic compound on the island resurfaced. Shockingly angelic. Jarringly serene and beautiful. A stark contrast to his former look. He didn't seem to remember his different appearance very much- only every once in a while, when he caught his reflection in the mirror or a window. But when he saw the look in Kirimi's eyes of awe and pride for her older brother, he completely embraced his new look.

He sat down in the chair next to her, his guard standing a few feet away with the others. "Kirimi! Are you visiting too? You don't have school?" His eyes strayed to the Beelzenef plushie on the table and his smile widened.

She shook her head. "No school! I'm here for a break." She looked at me briefly, shyly. "He plays the piano."

Nekozawa glanced at me and I saw something flash across his face. Too quick for me to define. "Yes he does. Very well, in fact. Have you heard him?"

My face reddened at his compliment and I looked down at my lap just as a side door swung quietly open. Three well-dressed waiters (also with guns at their hips- what is it with this place?) placed full bowls and heaping plates enough for ten people. The steam wafted pleasantly in the air and I forgot my embarrassment completely once I saw the array of dumplings, spaghetti, sushi, Okroshka, potatoes, sundaes as high as my face... The food seemed neverending, and my growling stomach only rejoiced all the more. I heaped some of everything onto a plate after thanking the waiters profusely. Tried to make myself feel better about the huge amount I was currently stuffing into my face by claiming that I needed all the calories for my performance tonight.

As I took another bite of shepherd's pie, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Ignored their conversation across from me as I slid open the lock and viewed the new message. From my sponsor: Car will be there in 30. The Nekozawas have loft seats.

I messaged back that I understood before continuing to eat. Listening to the two siblings converse as they ate was kind of cute. Nekozawa was so attentive to her expressions, her body language, heaping more food onto her plate. I think he was explaining why he was currently embracing his natural look instead of his usual dark attire. I laughed quietly at the interaction- at how infatuated with Kirimi he was. It was the same kind of passion he had for the magic club.

A few hours later, I was sitting in a dressing room wearing a standard black tuxedo with a white undershirt and a black tie while a makeup artist brushed some kind of goop over my forehead. Niki sat sprawled out on the elegant red and gold couch to the side of the room, this time without an attention-drawing rifle and only the handgun on his hip. I closed my eyes and played the pieces through my head again, calming my breathing and relaxing my shoulders. The sounds of shuffling and the low rumble of talking attendees could be heard faintly through the walls as they took their seats in the hall after the intermission. Who knew how many of them were sponsors that I had to work hard to impress. The jitter of nerves had since long become just a low tingle in the pit of my stomach, which was a good thing.

I heard the door open behind me and I opened my eyes. In the mirror I saw my sponsor walk in, followed by several of his own guards. If they had guns, they were hidden beneath their suits. Quickly I stood up from my seat and turned to face him, bowing low so that my nose almost touched my knees. "Mr. Dragunov," I greeted as I stood back up. "Thank you very much for providing me this opportunity to perform at this beautiful venue. I would like to apologize for my sudden absence this past two weeks."

He was an incredibly imposing figure. The inheritor of the Dragunov gun company was tall, pale, dark-haired, with intimidating presence. He wore a black suit with a deep red button up shirt underneath, stitched in gold with his initials. Dark chocolate brown eyes looked over my attire for any flaws, combed my face for blemishes. Every part of me was scrutinized. In a low and silky smooth voice he responded, "I do not tolerate such behaviour. This once will I forgive this incident, only because you are my most successful project." Here he stepped forward towards me so that we were only a few inches apart and he placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. At the action, Niki sat up straight on the couch, watching him with alert attention. I did my best to maintain eye contact until I would've had to look nearly straight up to meet his gaze. "In addition, you have also acquainted yourself with one of the wealthiest families in this country. Therefore not only will I disregard your absence this once, but you shall also receive a reward." He patted my shoulder and pursed his lips into a small smile, which was the only kind of smile I'd ever seen him give anyone. He turned back towards the door as he spoke, "A new potential sponsor would like to meet you. He will decide whether or not to fund you after this performance."

Wow, I thought as I quickly followed him out of the room and into the incredibly extravagant hallway. Way to put the pressure on me right before a performance. Niki stood up and leisurely walked after me, arms crossed over his chest. I glanced around, playing with my fingers and working out any last knots in my hand. Took a deep breath before forcing a pleasant smile for whoever wanted to give my sponsor money on my behalf. "Allow me to introduce Mr. Asher Guerriero."

When my eyes met those of the man in question, I froze in my tracks. My heartbeat picked up significantly and I felt like a scared, hunted animal all over again. Just like back on that freaking island. A pressed white suit, white shoes, white tie, skin slightly tanned. Black hair pulled back against his head to reveal deep set hazel eyes and a thin-lipped smile. His voice confirmed that he was the same white-robed magician that had caught us and put us in the compound. "How nice to meet you," he said smoothly, his voice dripping like honey. "I've heard much about your abilities. However this will be my first time listening to you perform in person."

My mind was racing behind my calm façade. His Russian was choppy and thick with an accent. I'm assuming the man standing beside him was a translator for when conversations became too complex for him to follow. If he recognized me, he made no indication of it. Simply held his hands in front of him and looked me over curiously, like anyone meeting somebody new for the first time. The panic running through me muddled my mind, and I didn't know what to do. Luckily Mr. Dragunov filled the silence by talking me up and then mentioning the benefits of becoming a sponsor. I was able to collect myself for a moment- tried to relax my tense shoulders. Just focus on the task at hand. In five minutes I have a performance. I don't need this right now.

"-also plays flute, clarinet, classical guitar, among other things." I tuned back in to the conversation and attempted a calm smile while Mr. Dragunov tried to sell me to this guy. "He is currently my most valuable asset."

The translator spoke quietly to Asher in what sounded like Italian. He listened intently to the list of instruments, watching as Mr. Dragunov waved dismissively at me. "You begin soon," he mumbled, giving me permission to leave for the stage upstairs. I bowed deeply again to him, then gave a polite nod to Asher, and turned on my heel to go. Niki had been standing behind me, very alert and looking between my wide, probably terrified eyes and the man in white. He stepped aside for me and I didn't hesitate to walk away from the conversation. I need to calm down. This isn't good. I haven't been this nervous before a performance in many years.

As the translator finished explaining, I heard Asher let out a small chuckle. "That is quite impressive," he said in somewhat broken Russian. "I've heard, too, that he has developed his vocal skills as well?"

I stumbled, only for a moment, but those words fell like hail on my ears. Any doubt I'd had about his identity, or whether or not he knew who I was, vanished completely. At the hand touching my elbow to help steady me, I recoiled like I'd been burnt. The memory of the heat, the gritty sand stuck in my clothes, the salty smell of the surrounding ocean flooded my mind. The memory of the white robes and the black hair. The smug and vicious grin directed at me as Nekozawa hid me behind him. I looked back at a stern and confused Niki, eyes wide with the panic. When I saw it was just him and not Asher, I actually felt relieved. Never thought that the perv would be a refreshing sight.

"Please don't touch me," I whispered, refusing to look back at Asher and Mr. Dragunov. I turned back around to continue down the hallway, hearing the footsteps of the perv behind me. Up the stairs, into the offstage are in the dark. The lights flickered once, twice, three times, signaling the end of intermission. "Damn it," I muttered anxiously. Tried to shake the jitters out of my body. It wasn't a good thing that my heart still pounded loud enough to echo in my ears, or that my hands were cold and clammy. On stage, the piano sat in the center of a spotlight. The crowd began to quiet. Somewhere out there was the Nekozawa family, along with my sponsor, that magician guy, and a couple thousand people waiting to watch me. "Damn it!"

"You'll be fine," Niki's surprisingly soothing voice interrupted my nervous breakdown. He leaned against the wall, back to his casual stance and carefree attitude. A toothy and confident grin spread across his face as he looked over mine. "Foreign boys are so cute- especially you when you're under pressure, I'm learning."

His weird compliment (if it was one) threw me off guard. I felt my face heat up and I couldn't meet his eyes, instead looking towards the ground, my shoes, the piano on stage. "I mean... I'm- I'm not really a foreign..."

But as I thought about it, his words grounded me in the present moment. I'd been successfully distracted from my previous panic attack completely. "...Thank you," I mumbled gratefully, feeling my heartbeat settle back to normal. "That was actually somehow helpful."

He only smiled again at my thanks and I took another deep breath before walking out on stage. The audience clapped for me, though I couldn't see them at all for the bright light in my face. I bowed once, not quite as low as with my sponsor, then settled onto the piano bench. Imagined that I was only practicing- alone in the music room at school. Light streaming in through the tall windows onto the pink interior. Closed my eyes. After hours, so no one would be there but me. Rested my hands at the ready over the keys.

Actually... One person is there after school, too. And right next door. He peeked through the slightly open door on the other side of the empty room, wearing a floor length black cloak and a hood to cover his pale face and dark hair. A smile I found creepy at first, but now I realized I loved to see every day during our club activities.

I shook my head and smiled at the memory of how I met who I would consider my first friend at Ouran. And then I began to play.