A/N: Beta'd by awin-chan.

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There were several reasons as to why Hitachiin Hikaru would not make a good clown, and the most obvious of these reasons was this: he was too rich to be a clown.

Clowns supposedly didn't make much, and there was no way that would fly for a rich kid. Also, clowns had to wear ridiculous makeup and costumes as they lost their dignity for mere commoners. Commoners.

Hikaru had yet to understand this lower aspect of commoner culture. Why would a human being degrade themselves to such a point? It made no sense what they were doing. Horrible, humiliating, demeaning, these were some of the words he could think of.

Haruhi noticed the strange look on his face. "Hikaru?" she said. "Are you okay?" She waved a hand in front of him.

"Yeah," he stirred. "Fine. Perfectly fine."

"Oh," said Haruhi. "You looked out of it for a moment, that's all."

"I was thinking. Just thinking."

"But why?" she said. "It's a circus. You're just supposed to watch."

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I was just thinking about that clown over there."

"Which one?"

"You know, the one with the big nose. Over there. That one!"

"Hikaru," she sighed, "they all have big noses."

"Oh. Right," he said. "Then the one with the blue hair. And the red pinstriped costume. You see?"

"That one?" she said. "But why?"

"Financial security questions. Livelihood." Seeing the squirm on her face, he added, "I can't help it, Haruhi! Rich upbringing. Can't help it. You know."

"Right," forced Haruhi, "whatever."

"Look at him!"

This was when Hikaru waved his hand at her. A big mistake, as he would later realize.

The circus ringmaster, at that point, had been calling for volunteers, and seeing the enthusiastic hand waving of a young boy in the stands, called out, "We have our volunteer!"

The crowd cheered. Hikaru froze. "Wait—what?"

Haruhi sighed again and slapped a hand to her forehead.

The man made his way up, standing now in the aisle of the row Hikaru and Haruhi were sitting in. "You, young man," he said, pointing at Hikaru, "come with me." He held out his hand.

Hikaru was still frozen. He shot an uncertain look at Haruhi, who returned the favor with a sigh that said, 'Look, can't help you there because it was your fault, after all.'

Looking back at the ringmaster, he paused. Then stood up, sighed, and resigned his fate to the hands of a commoner he did not know.

--

"We'll be showcasing now," the ringmaster said through his microphone, "our horse racing skills. Our horses have both speed and precision, so feast your eyes, ladies and gentlemen, on the jockey, Yorushiku!"

A petite young woman stepped out onto the ring, wearing a jockey costume in the form of a leotard, a top hat daintily placed on her head for dramatic effect. It was sparkly—and tacky, Hikaru could not help but think.

He was to the side, debating whether or not he should call Kaoru to say that he loved him, he always had, and he would continue doing so, even in the afterlife. A worker had spotted him and waved him over.

"Okay kid, you'll be going out there and doing whatever's expected of you," said the short man.

"What, may I ask, am I doing?" Hikaru said, hoping that he would not be asked to lose his dignity, or what remained of it, in front of thousands of strangers.

"Horse stunts," said the man. "Oh, hey, you're out now. Break a leg, kiddo. And whatever you do, don't get trampled." He held the curtains open and roughly pushed Hikaru out onto the stage, where a flash of light hit his eyes.

Trampled? he thought.

Somewhere in his mind, he was thinking of the names of lawyers he could call for suing the circus. That was definitely his number one priority when he got out of this. Boy, was he going to sue.

Yorushiku was doing her last rounds of elaborate bowing to the audience when Hikaru stepped out. He looked wholly out-of-place, his brand-name clothing sticking out as clear as day. Another worker took hold of him.

"Here, kid," said the worker, "this way."

Before Hikaru could protest saying that he most definitely was not a kid, his back hit a blunt object. He looked down: it was a crate that was labeled as 'apples'.

Apples, he thought, but then the ringmaster answered his questions.

"The lovely Yorushiku," he explained to the crowd, "will be mounted onto the valiant steed, Cloyden, and she will race around the ring for you wonderful spectators."

Now a spotlight shone on Hikaru; he blocked his eyes. God, they were such blinding lights; at this rate, he was going to be blind when he left. And then, how was he supposed to point and glare at the circus performers as they were sentenced to years and years in prison for the horrible mistake of having upset a Hitachiin?

A worker now opened the crate, and in his hands, he took out six apples.

"What are they for?" Hikaru said to him.

"Just wait and see. Hold out your arms," said the worker, who promptly began placing them on Hikaru's arm as he obliged.

"What the hell?"

"Just wait and see, kid. Just wait and see." The worker left.

"And then, Yorushiku will ride Cloyden, up ahead right to our lovely volunteer!" The ringmaster held out his hand in the direction of Hikaru. "And in the process, Cloyden will drop his head down and take a bite of one of those lovely apples!"

Hikaru nearly fainted.

"WHAT?" he shouted. "I'm going to get my head chewed up by a horse named Cloyden?"

"Now," said the worker who'd returned, "it's really not so bad. Stand still. Cloyden's a good boy. He knows what to do."

"And how times has he done it before?" Hikaru questioned.

"Counting today," the worker beamed, "once." He patted a hand on Hikaru's shoulder, and added, "I'll be praying for you."

"WHAT?"

His arms shook, but they remained firm so as to not let the apples fall. He had never imagined that six apples could be so heavy. He gulped.

"Yorushiku will be starting momentarily," announced the ringmaster, "as she begins her warm-up laps around the ring!"

The audience cheered. Hikaru groaned and fought to keep his arms up.

And then it started. The horse was off, racing around the circular rim of the tent of the circus; it generated applause from the audience (stupid commoners, Hikaru thought, who got excited from seeing a horse run?) and a commercialized smile from Yorushiku.

Then she headed towards Hikaru, who was standing in the middle of the ring. Suddenly, Cloyden seemed much larger that he had earlier. He was not longer a horse, but an equus—he had to have been one. He wasn't trotting, he was galloping at full speed; the girl didn't look like she would be slowing down any either. Or, he thought in horror, maybe it was because she didn't know how to.

So Hikaru began thinking of his family. His father, his mother, and Kaoru—he couldn't have wished for a better twin brother, dear Lord, he thought. And there were the servants who'd put up with his and Kaoru's pranks for all those years.

They hadn't quit, never complained once—or maybe that was because they were bound to the Hitachiins by contract, and if they opened their mouths and said anything, they would get sued for slander.

And oh—the Host Club. Milord, he thought, that blond who'd originally been jealous at Hikaru's good fortune to be able to attend a circus with Haruhi of all people. "It's not what you think," he would say to him, if he ever got out of this alive. And there was Kyouya and Hunny and Mori to think of.

Dear, dear friends. Before today, Hikaru had not realized that he was so sentimental.

And Haruhi, who was still sitting up there in the stands. He wondered if she was chewing her nails out, but decided against it: she wasn't that type of person. But did she feel nervous for him? Or did she . . . worry for him? He only wished he'd told her something very important, and that was he l—

The horse was gaining on him now; Cloyden's teeth looked especially sharp, he thought, like they would rather bite off his head than the apple's.

He gulped again. Stood up straighter, then slouched.

Cloyden jumped in the air. It certainly seemed that way. For a brief moment in time, it was as if the horse was sailing through the air, majestically, professionally; and Yorushiku looked like a true jockey, not just some low-paid circus worker pretending to be one.

This was the last thing Hikaru saw.

He fell to the ground; he couldn't help it: the shock, the lights, it was too much.

And it was a good thing he had too. For if he had not fallen, Cloyden's front hooves would have smashed into his head. The horse landed just meters away from his body. Yorushiku pulled hard at the reins, and the horse neighed and stopped.

Now the audience gasped. A boy fainting on the stage! Horrifying, shocking, who could do such a thing to such as innocent!

Workers swarmed around him; the first thing Hikaru saw as he opened his eyes was the worker who'd promised he would pray for him: "You're lucky, kid," was all he said.

Slowly, somehow, he was led back to his seat. Pairs of eyes followed him as he trudged his way upward, towards Haruhi.

She helped him down, and she held out a water bottle. "You need it?" she said; her tone seemed concerned, he thought. He shook his head.

He leaned back against his plastic seat. "God."

"Hikaru?" she said. "Are you okay? Do you need something? Hey!"

For all he could see was Haruhi, but there were three of her somehow. Three Haruhis with faces paled out of concern and apprehension, which at once touched and embarrassed him, looked at him, six hands, were being waved in front of his face.

"Hey, Haruhi. . ." he said, swaying. "I like you. I think you're pretty. Smart. Unique. The best. I love you."

Now it was four Haruhis, each of whom held a raised left eyebrow. He felt himself drifting into the unconsciousness once again. Something soft caressed his arm, and a grip held on to him.

"Idiot," she said, and kissed him on his cheek, just as Hikaru fell off into the dark.