Chapter One

You Always Remember Your First Time

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS.

Icy, razor-sharp winds sliced at the faces of people walking the city's pavements, huddled tightly beneath their coats while trying not to slip on patches of ice that had accumulated the night before. It was one of the worst days in one of the last months of winter. Kinomoto Sakura, who was snuggled tight under her oversized Hello Kitty sweater in her favourite noodles shop, glanced up sympathetically at passers-by through the foggy windows. She tapped her chopsticks together unconsciously before turning back to the steaming, half-eaten bowl of noodles and broth in front of her.

As she ate, her eyes scanned the classifieds in the newspaper she had spread out on the table. She had been fired two weeks ago from the job her brother had gotten her waiting tables in a family-run diner. They were not doing so well anymore and had to let staff go. Regrettably, her occasional tardiness and odd moments of clumsy behaviour made her quite the expendable employee. She could not be upset. She would have fired her too if she could find it in herself to take away someone's livelihood.

Not having a job and yet having to pay rent in Tokyo was a death sentence. Her big brother Touya did say living on her own would be hard. To be specific, he said she would never last a week, but it had already been two months, so she supposed she showed him. Even with that accomplishment, she found it difficult to ask for help. When he was working through university with multiple part-time jobs, he had never once asked for help.

Sakura's stomach twisted into painful knots. She would not give up! She needed a life of her own and her father and brother needed lives of their own - ones that did not revolve around funding her for the rest of their lives. Seeing how hard her father worked as a single dad made her want to pave her own way and pay him back for the wonderful childhood he had given to her. She smiled to herself. It would be wonderful if she could find some meaningful work in life. Her father had archaeology; her brother had medicine - she wanted something too. And she felt a slight pressure to hurry because her father was dropping some serious hints about her getting married.

Not that she did not want that. She would love that. But she could be like her mother. She could work and be a good wife and mom. Her father had told her that it made her mother very happy to have a life of her own, doing something she enjoyed. Sakura could only hope that her future husband would be as understanding and kind-hearted as her dear Otou-san.

She picked up a mouthful of noodles with her chopsticks and inhaled the salty goodness. This would be the last time she ate out, she swore to herself for the third time that week. Slurping the noodles into her mouth, she continued to read the job ads, her spirit shrivelling just a little with each consecutive one.

They all required qualifications she did not have and could never hope to have. The noodles in Sakura's mouth began to taste like thick clumps of glue. Would she have to admit defeat? Would she have to go home after all? Though she had no close friends in Tokyo she still loved being in the city, doing her own thing, and she wanted some more time to explore all that the city had to offer. So many success stories started here, and she may be dreaming but she felt like she could be one of those stories.

A girl that could only be described as Goth-cool strolled into the noodles shop with a guitar case in hand. She ordered the cheapest thing on the menu and paid the cashier with coins. Sakura sighed. She bet that girl had the same dream she had. Only, that girl most likely had a talent whereas she had nothing but a severe case of optimism.

She raised her bowl off the edge of the newspaper and flipped the page before setting it down again. She came across an ad that had been in the newspaper every day that week. It was a simple ad, but she could not figure out what the job was exactly. All that was printed was:

NOW HIRING

MODEL TYPES

FEMALES ONLY (21 - 28 yrs)

Sakura thought about the lack of money in her bank account and heaved another sigh. She could not pass up a job that did not ask for university degrees. Plus, she was twenty-three going on twenty-four - part of the exact age range that had been requested. Besides, her late mother had been a catalogue model and even though Sakura did not think she could measure up to her in looks, she figured, she would give the job a try. So, she whipped out her cell phone from her sweater pocket and dialled the number.

"Hikaru House, Naoko speaking! How may I be of service?"

"Ano," said Sakura, quietly. "I saw your ad in the newspaper."

"You're interested in employment then?" asked Naoko, in an upbeat voice. "We're interviewing girls right now. You can come down today or you can come on the weekend."

"This may sound silly, but do I need to bring a résumé?" asked Sakura. "I'm not sure..."

"Oh no," said Naoko, laughing lightly. "Just bring yourself. Let me give you the address."

Sakura scribbled down the building address on a torn piece of the newspaper. The place was in one of the more upscale sides of Tokyo and a bit far away. However, it was not like she had anything better to do. She went to her apartment nearby to get dressed in model-appropriate attire before heading off to the interview for a job she still knew nothing about.

When Sakura walked through the glass doors of Hikaru House, her jaw dropped open. She had expected models but the long-limbed, glossy-haired, unbelievably gorgeous females that filled the lobby were not models. They could not be models.

They would have to be humans first.

It was a gigantic, ostentatious display of blindingly white smiles, brand-named attire, perfect manicures and sky-high heels. Sakura looked down at her white t-shirt and plain jeans. She tugged her black department store coat around her frame in horror. Why did she never walk with makeup in her bag? Why had she never learned to apply it properly? Why were all her family members men? She would have cried if it would not have drawn attention to her.

A girl, looking just as exquisite as all the others, but wearing a crisp business skirt suit walked up to her, clipboard in hand.

"I assume you're interviewing for the new clerk position?" she asked, pen poised over the sheet of paper on the clipboard.

Sakura brushed her cold, damp bangs out of her eyes.

"Oh... I'm not sure. I saw your ad in the newspaper for model-type girls..."

The other girl gave her a long, embarrassing once over.

"I see."

Sakura took a step back, ready to run and hide her face in shame beneath the non-judgemental pillows of her bed, far, far away. But the girl shrugged.

"Name?" she breathed, like she had better things to do.

"K-Kinomoto Sakura."

She wrote it down and gave her a number.

"Wait to be called," she said, before moving on to another girl who had just walked into the building.

Sakura went over to an empty chair in the corner of the lobby and sat down, head bowed low so she could not see the esteem-shredding gazes of the other girls. She chewed on her bottom lip as she waited. She needed this job and judging from the designer labels a lot of the other interviewees were wearing, she needed it more than them. If only she knew what it was though - not that she had a chance with all the competition in the room. Why did they have to look so perfectly photoshopped? She sank further into her seat. Only desperation and that severe case of optimism made her stay.

Almost two hours later, her number was called, and she found herself sitting in a bright, eclectic office, staring across a glass table at a seemingly ageless woman. While in the waiting room, she had learned that the woman was called Matsushita Satomi. The girls had spoken of Satomi with such reverence that as Sakura walked into the room and saw her, she almost felt like she should go into a full kowtow.

Matsushita was a perfectly polished gem of a woman, reeking of worldliness, education and strong will. Her thick black hair was pulled up into an elegant updo that matched the sophistication of her black dress. And, like the girl out front, she gave Sakura a less than appraising once over.

Sakura's cheeks reddened and again she wanted to run for the hills and be the uncivilized creature this woman made her feel like.

"Have you any experience in this profession Kinomoto-san?"

Sakura shook her head.

"I'm not exactly sure what... the job is? What kind of model are you looking for?"

She felt ignorant sitting there with this exquisite woman and yet not having a clue about what she was talking about. Why did she not ask someone in the lobby? Oh right. She had not wanted them to notice the ugly stain in the room. Satomi sat back in her chair and looked at her with a monk's patience.

"The Hikaru House hires courtesans, Kinomoto-san."

"Courtesans?" asked Sakura.

A moment passed in silence and again Satomi waited patiently for her to catch up. Sakura's eyes widened when realization hit her with the force of a thousand suns. Did she just walk into an escort agency? Was she interviewing to be an escort at that very minute? The fine hairs on the back of her neck raised and it took all the politeness within her to remain seated. What had she gotten herself into now? Her brother would kill her! Well maybe that was extreme. He would probably tie her up, throw her in a car, drive her back home and lock her up in her father's basement. Yes. That sounded more like him.

"From where do you originate, Kinomoto-san?" asked Satomi, her even disposition turning into one of mild interest.

"Tomoeda," answered Sakura.

"A small town. And you've lived there all your life?"

Sakura smiled.

"Hai."

"Tell me about it. I've heard there are beautiful parks there."

"There are!"

Sakura told Satomi everything interesting she could think of about Tomoeda. She told her where to find the best places to eat, to have fun and, to relax. She even had the woman laughing lightly with a town story involving a quarrelling couple and the unfortunate police officer who was trying to break up the fight. Like all residents, she was proud of where she came from and once she got started talking about the peaceful town she could hardly bear to stop.

It was the strangest interview she had ever experienced. It seemed more like she was talking to a friend than a potential employer. It was not long before she was telling Satomi about her dating life or lack thereof, that is. When silence finally fell after what could have been a good hour, Satomi leaned forward and gave an endearing smile.

"Would you like to work for me, Kinomoto-san?"

A chill ran down Sakura's spine. She had enjoyed talking to Satomi - had practically fallen for the woman - but this job certainly was not one she could tell her family about. It did not seem right.

"You've heard a lot of things about agencies like mine, I'm sure," said Satomi. "Some of them are no doubt true but at the Hikaru House we respect and value our girls. Our clients are typically affluent older men who want the company of young, vibrant girls such as yourself. You receive money and they receive beauty. It's an even exchange."

She paused to let her words sink in.

"W-what do the girls have to do?" asked Sakura.

"Entertain them," said Satomi. "You can do so at a party, their hotel, your hotel, the list goes on. You have intellectual conversations with them and accompany them as dates for events."

The word 'hotel' echoed as loud as a foghorn in Sakura's mind.

"Do the girls have to... have to... ano..."

"As I said Kinomoto-san, most of my clients are older men. However, attraction does occur every now and then. What adults agree to do in their private time is no concern of mine. But my girls are forbidden from offering sexual intercourse with clients as a part of their entertaining. That would be illegal, wouldn't it?"

Satomi's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Sakura shrank in her seat.

"Hai."

"You're such a sweetheart," said Satomi. "You needn't worry. If you are uncomfortable entertaining in hotels, you don't have to entertain in hotels. That is not what I see for you in any case. I see greater opportunities."

"Hoe-eee?"

"Did I mention the compensation you would be receiving?" asked Satomi. "You may receive anything from one thousand to six thousand US dollars per date."

Sakura gasped. That much? Really? She could do a lot with that money and would no longer have to worry about her rent. Sugoi!

"Of course, we take 50% commission."

Sakura deflated. Oh well. It was still a lot more than she was making now. Zilch.

"I will not throw you to the wolves Kinomoto-san," said Satomi, her voice like a siren's call luring her ever forward. "This is an elite agency. We have our share of celebrity clientele and as such you will need to be trained and groomed first."

Sakura blinked. Did she miss something? Satomi's tone suggested that she had accepted work at the Hikaru House. Wait. Did she say celebrities?

"We have several courtesans you can talk with to relieve any residual fears or concerns you may have."

That sounded reasonable to Sakura, and she realized that she was accepting the job without even saying a word. It was a bad habit of hers not speaking up, but Satomi was pleasant and genuine - like a well-meaning aunt who took it upon herself to look after you and teach you things your mother could not because she was your mother.

"A lot of my former girls have gone on to become television hosts, businesswomen, actresses, singers. The experience at the Hikaru House makes you a better, wholesome woman who has the confidence to go out and take what she wants out of life. It's empowering, liberating and only a select few will ever have a platform such as this to set the tone for the rest of their lives. Right now, you are a girl Kinomoto Sakura. Do you want to become a sophisticated, feminine woman?"

Sakura drank in her words with a Saharan thirst. All she had to do was go on a few dates and she would make a lot of money. She would learn life skills to be the best person she could be. She never had a mother to guide her like Satomi; and the woman appeared trustworthy. Working for her did not sound like a bad thing now that she thought about it. She wanted to become a "sophisticated, feminine woman." She wanted to be just like Satomi. Yes.

"Yes."

"I assume you'll be able to start right away?" asked Satomi, rising to her feet.

Entranced, Sakura nodded, even though a 'no' was peeping out somewhere from the back of her throat.

"See Naoko before you leave. She'll tell you everything you need to know."

Walking out of the office, Sakura's legs began to wobble when the reality of her situation hit her. She was an escort - or courtesan as Satomi called it. She was half-expecting to wake up from this dream and find herself back in her apartment, warm beneath her covers but no matter how hard she pinched herself, she remained in that moment.

"Matsushita-san asked you to work? Personally?" asked Naoko when Sakura reached her desk. Naoko was a thin, good-natured girl about Sakura's age who seemed more like an investigative journalist than a secretary. "That almost never happens. She usually plays hard to get. A lot of girls want to work here, you know. But we only have about twenty girls at any one time."

"Really?" asked Sakura.

"Give or take, yes," said Naoko. Her brown eyes were wide behind her round spectacles. "She must like you a lot. She's only picking two other girls this quarter. We have standards to maintain and she likes taking time to train everyone thoroughly."

Naoko took down all her information and even pulled out a measuring tape and held it around Sakura's body for measurements. Sakura flushed.

"Is that really necessary?" she asked.

"Yes. Together with the pictures we'll take of you for the website, it will give clients an idea of what they're getting."

Sakura paled at the word 'pictures'. What kind of pictures was Naoko talking about? What did it matter what her measurements were if they were only going on dates? The secretary looked up at her.

"Don't worry," she said. "They're all tasteful. Just like what you would take for a high-fashion lingerie advert. No one will see your face either."

That was a relief at least. She liked to think the best of the men in her family, but she did not like the idea of them visiting escort websites and seeing pictures of her. Was it strange that she feared her brother's wrath more than her father's?

"Congratulations Kinomoto-san," said Naoko, giving Sakura a bright smile. "You're one of the family now. I'll see you back here tomorrow morning at eight and we'll do all the boring contract things and brief you on what's expected."

Walking out into the bright sunshine, Sakura was pleased to see the sun shining brightly in the sky, its rays prickling the skin of her face even though snow was drizzling heavily. She looked back at the building that was the Hikaru House with its dark one-way mirrors. Was it too late to change her mind? It felt like it. She did not like disappointing people and Satomi had taken a chance on her. How could she go back inside and look ungrateful? She steeled her shoulders and took step after determined step away from the building.

She would not work there longer than a year, she told herself. She would work until she had enough money to comfortably support herself, discover what she wanted out of life and that was it. The money she would be making, she could probably even put herself through a technical school or something and get a more socially acceptable job.

Sakura grinned on her way to the subway station. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she had a direction in life. A plan of action. And that was indeed empowering.

The weeks passed and winter turned to spring. The last cherry blossoms of the season painted the streets pink and white and the sweet scent of new life was thick in the air. Two long months had passed since Sakura had met Matsushita Satomi and had been welcomed as a courtesan of the Hikaru House. After all the training Satomi had promised, Sakura was not certain that it had changed her drastically in any way since it had been all etiquette and massages mostly. But tonight, would be the test. Last month, she had even been given a new name to work under.

"Sakamoto Ayame," she reminded herself as he stared into the full-length mirror in her bedroom.

With her highlighted short hair, her skin glowing from many cosmetic treatments and her body dressed in the most slimming cocktail dress she had ever worn, Sakura did in fact feel less like Kinomoto Sakura and more like Sakamoto Ayame. That was a good thing, she reasoned. It gave her the anonymity and mask she needed to do what she was about to do. Fingers crossed, she would not embarrass herself.

She picked up her clutch from her bed and walked out of her small apartment, tripping over the front-door mat.

"Hoe-eee!" she exclaimed, her knees knocking together as she steadied herself.

Ignoring that slip-up, she went downstairs to meet with a more experienced courtesan named Kazumi who was waiting in a black luxury sedan. From there, they went to meet their date. Sakura did not know anything about him or what he looked like. Kazumi was preening herself in the mirror of her powder compact and she was so intimidatingly stunning with her dainty little mouth and long lashes, Sakura dared not disturb her to ask questions about their date.

"How do you feel?" asked Kazumi, snapping her compact shut as they pulled up outside a high-scale restaurant in the heart of Shinjuku.

"A bit sick," said Sakura, apologetically.

"That's normal," said Kazumi, waiting for the driver to open the car door. "I've been out with this client before though. He's lovely. Perfect for your first dance."

When they got out the car, Sakura felt dwarfed by Kazumi's tall, willowy frame. It did not help that the girl really was a working model who Sakura had seen in magazines once or twice.

"Thank you for coming with me," Sakura told her.

"I've never chaperoned a newbie before," said Kazumi, sending her a smile as dazzling as the stars up above. "It's time that I paid it forward. My chaperone was very understanding with me, but she did have her bitch moments."

Sakura giggled and Kazumi gave their names to the Maître d'. He led them to a table at the far left of the restaurant floor that was so polished, the chandeliers above them were reflected in the marble. The gentleman who sat there looked like somebody's grandfather - friendly, tastefully aged but very old. He stood as they approached, and they all bowed to one another.

"It's a pleasure to see you again," Kazumi told him. She beckoned to Sakura. "This is your date, Sakamoto Ayame. Ayame, this is Ebisawa Koshiro."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Sakura, smiling, though her insides were reverberating with trepidation. "Please call me Ayame."

Sitting to the right of Koshiro, Sakura studied the man. He had a full head of hair that had gone mostly grey. The wrinkles around his mouth and eyes told her he had smiled a lot in his youth and his rough, weather-beaten hands said he knew manual labour once.

"You are very young and pretty Ayame," said Koshiro, when their main meal arrived. "I hope you're not disappointed that you have to entertain an old man like me."

"I'm not," reassured Sakura and it was the truth. She was nervous but Koshiro seemed quite agreeable. "I can tell we'll have a good time together, Ebisawa-san."

"I look forward to it."

Kazumi pouted and hit him playfully on the arm.

"You really do know how to make a girl feel like a third wheel Ebisawa-san!" she chastised, making him and Sakura laugh.

"I thought you were the third wheel," Sakura said, joining the banter.

"Ah, but you two don't have to make me feel like it. It's like you already have a love affair going..."

Sakura laughed again. Throughout dinner though, she noticed that Koshiro kept drifting in and out of conversation with them, like there was something on his mind. When Kazumi had gone to the ladies' room and he took to staring down at his plate of braised chicken, a forlorn expression on his face, it was even more noticeable in the absence of lively chatter.

"Is there something wrong?" Sakura asked.

He did not answer right away. He just sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair.

"Today makes a second year since my wife passed away," he told her, eyes glistening.

Sakura felt a sob rising in her throat. It was disheartening when two people spent their lives together and one was yanked away before the other.

"I'm sorry," she said, placing a hand over her heart.

"I would have stayed home today," he said. "But my sons are all out of the country. I didn't want to be alone."

Sakura leaned her head to the side, gazing at him with sympathy.

"My father once told me that when my mother died it was the most excruciating pain he had felt," Sakura told the older man. "But you know what else he told me?" she asked, her voice soft and secretive, baiting him to know more.

"Please, do tell," said Koshiro, his brown eyes staring at her intently.

"He said he considers himself lucky, to have loved someone so much and to have been so loved in return, that it hurt that much to lose her."

After a short silence, he nodded.

"It is a wonderful experience, love," he said, a distant gleam in his eyes. "We men like to believe we are strong and formidable. We don't need anything or anyone, especially not something as sentimental as love. But there's always that one woman who comes into our lives and changes it forever. Whether we keep her or not is a whole other tale. But one thing is certain. Once we've known that love, we can never forget it or let it go. We can pretend, put in the back of our minds for weeks, months, but it surfaces. Always. It reminds us that without a good woman to share it with, all that we have amounts to nothing. Means absolutely nothing."

"That's flattering," said Sakura, cheeks warming hearing Koshiro's passionate words.

"It's true," he said. "We have instincts to provide for and protect that which we love. When we do so, it's very fulfilling. It makes us feel like real men. But young men today do not understand. My sons don't understand. Their work is their love."

He breathed out heavily.

"Of course, if you have sons, that's a legacy. And all that you have becomes theirs and so on for generations. It takes the sting out of loss." He reached over and patted Sakura's hand gently. "I apologize for my ramblings. Let's enjoy the evening without any more sad talk."

Sakura gave him a winning smile.

"Whatever makes you happy, Koshiro-san."

Kazumi came back to the table and throughout the evening they kept up bright, cheery attitudes for Koshiro. It was easy dining with him. Like in the office with Matsushita, it was like talking to a friend and he had a lot to talk about, having accumulated much wisdom throughout the years.

"I hope they're always as nice as him," Sakura told Kazumi at the end of the night.

"The first one is usually the best," said Kazumi, as she slipped into their waiting car. "Don't get your hopes up."

Even so, Sakura felt that if she was positive, others would be too. She needed to believe that things would go well for her in this job and she needed to believe she really was helping people like she did earlier by taking Koshiro's mind off his despair. She was not just entertaining. She was bringing happiness to people who needed some in their lives. She sighed as she slid down in the car seat. This job. It had meaning.

Everything will surely be alright.

A/N

Hey Tomodachi!

Note: Adultery will be heavy in this story. You have been warned. Oh sadly there will be no magic so no cards, Yue and talking Kero-chan.

Former, distinguished readers and reviewers, welcome back. New readers and reviewers, nice to have you here. If you want to know, the name for the story came from lyrics in the song Linger by The Cranberries. The song kind of captures the essence of the story - for me anyway.

Our beloved gaki appears next chapter though you may not love him that much. No huge OOCs. But this is my take on how the characters would have been had they not met each other until their twenties.

Read and Review.

Until next time, Ja ne! ^_^