'It must be a Thursday.'

-Arthur Dent

A young girl, age unknown and dressed in her usual frilly outfit, stood near the latest disaster caused by their self-proclaimed 'Magician's Apprentice', trying not to sigh again as she nudged a piece of the broken cuckoo clock with her Mary Jane's. Koyomi turned her most dry, most deadpan stare on Shunpei, but to no effect. He continued to lay on the ground where he had fallen while trying to save the cuckoo's little wooden home, his hands still outstretched, as if he could reverse time by saying, "Chichin-pui-pui" with his eyes alone. Anything to undo the nearly fantastic amount of damage an ill-timed, paper, football flick had caused. He must have used some kind of magic . . . or a curse. Koyomi settled on him being the curse, a curse on what was once her private sanctuary with Haruto. And Wajima-san, of course.

Koyomi then noticed that Shunpei's eyes, partly hidden by his badly kept hair and the fact that he was still face-down where he landed, were beginning to show the signs of a Shunpei-sized tantrum. Complete with yelling, begging on peoples shirts, and at least one more broken antique. She could see it building in him by the second, just under the surface of his candy bright shirts, causing her to take an involuntary step back. Then several deliberate ones, just to be safe.

Koyomi sighed, number three.

Now that she was safely nestled in the doorway of her "study", opposite of the commotion occurring just right of where the tiny sitting area began, she began to process what this meant. A cuckoo-clock was broken, its carved wooden eaves splintered across the floor, mingled with shiny brass and silver gears, the poor little bird trapped amidst the ruins. This meant that Wajima-san would be calling him soon, another intruder in her (relatively) peaceful life. As if obnoxious cop-lady turned helpless-but-still-nosy-puppy and useless-20-something-man-child weren't bad enough, he was going to come in with his crazy grin and weird eyes and make their quiet little antique shop an even bigger circus than it already is!

She took a deep breath, trying, and failing, to not throw a fit.

Darn, it came out as a fourth sigh.

These thoughts continued to run through her poor, slightly mana-deprived head, when Haruto came in like FEMA helicopters, plucking the little hand-carved and lovingly painted bird from the ruins, before picking up the largest and most salvageable pieces. He seemed pleased that none of the gears appeared broken, and put them all in the side of the house that was partially intact. Somehow, he held it all with one arm (it had been a big clock) while the other pulled Shunpei back by the neck of his shirt when it appeared his "panic mode" was igniting, inadvertently saving Koyomi from hers with the distraction.

"HAAAARUUUTOOOO-SAAAAN! WAAAAJIIIIMAAA-SAAAAN! GOMENASAAAAAAI!" he began, trying to simultaneously grovel at foot level and cling at shoulder level, ending up with an awkward sort of 'waist hug' that Haruto didn't seem to appreciate. Neither did Koyomi.

In perfect Haruto-styled nonchalance, he walked over to Wajima-san with the clock pieces in hand, and the child in tow, as if being grabbed by a twenty-something toddler was just another day. Wait, it is. That thought almost created another sigh. Wajima-san also surveyed the pieces that were left, and seemed to come to a decision. Haruto gave the pieces another contemplative look, before saying, "Oh well, I guess it can't be helped. I'll go call Teru-kun."

There it was, the phrase Koyomi dreaded, but Haruto said it anyway. Seeing the coast was clear of any more 'incidents', for the time being, Koyomi crossed the room and grabbed the shop owner by his shirt sleeve, trying to convey her distress with her eyes. When this failed, she resorted to words.

"Wajima-san, can't you or I try fixing it? We did so enough times before that man came along, why do we need to bring even more people over?"

She was not whining, she just didn't think she'd be able to handle any more social interaction today this week. Haruto seemed to notice her pallor, but she waved him off with a glance. It would be at least another day before she would need a recharge, and she did not want to make her 'condition' public. Haruto understood and relaxed slightly.

"Well, I'm sorry, Koyomi-chan," said Wajima-san, brushing off their silent conversation with ease, "but this is beyond us, and Potter-kun doesn't charge too much, if at all." As this exchange took place, Shunpei seemed to wake up to reality. "Who is 'Teru-kun'? Kind of a weird name. . ."

"Pot-te-ru." Koyomi said snippily, sounding out each syllable to the child. "I will be in the back, let me know when they're all gone." Finishing her statement with a flat glare at Shunpei, she marched to where here crystal ball awaited, closing both parts of the door, and settled in to wait; and, more importantly, ignore what was about to happen. Hopefully, Garuda will find a monster soon.


Harry awoke to the sun warming his blankets, safely tucked away in their soft, fluffy folds. Just kidding. He sat up with a start, wiping sweat from his brow as his latest nightmare passed on like a the flies on the window sill. He should really clean more often. Rubbing the last of his restless night from his face, he decided to take a shower. The nightmares, while few and far between these days, are still happening occasionally, like the ache of a scar before a storm. Shiro-chan, or the 'Shiro Mahoutsukai, as he was introduced, suggested there are probably subconscious triggers. A phrase, a certain hair or eye color, or even a style of dress.

Luckily, not much in Tokyo was particularly similar to back home, which would explain why they became less frequent. However, after almost two years in this world, he figured he'd have adjusted more completely by now. He grieved for his home, his world, for a long time before arriving in this dimension, through a quirk of fate best left explained later. . . He sighed, and decided to deal with the trans-dimensional dilemma later, he has a shop to run.

Harry raised the metal shutter of his shop with ease, pausing a moment to breath in the early morning air. Then gagging slightly as he inhaled some of the smog that forever hung over Tokyo. Quickly setting out the sign, he admired it for a moment.

Potter's Repairs

If it can be broken, it can be fixed!

No Refunds

Smiling, he went back in, flipping the Closed sign to Open as he passed it. The shop was what Hermione would have called 'quaint' if she were around to see it. Part workroom and part hardware store, shelves lined most of the walls, filled with nuts, bolts, saws, gears, tape. glue, and anything else one could need when performing repairs. It was a small and little known place, to his pleasure, so he didn't need to hire anyone else. Not that Harry could, even if he wanted to. He was barely getting by paying the rent and the loan he needed to take out to get the place. Barely any left over for living expenses, almost to the point of asking Donut-chan to let him eat whatever they couldn't sell at the end of the day, stale or not.

Contemplating the troubling state of his finances, and wether or not he could risk grocery shopping, his phone rang. Staring at it a little curiously, he answered after the second ring.

"Hello, Potter's Repairs, if it can be broken, it can be fixed! How may I help you?" He became suddenly aware of how glad, and slightly disturbed, he was that he practiced that line for a week before opening, because his greeting came out unbidden the second he picked up the receiver.

"Hello, Potter-kun? It's Wajima, and I may have a repair for you, if it's not too much trouble."

"Waji-san! Good to hear from you! And how many times have I told you to call me Harry? Anyway, what broke this time?" And he found himself slightly surprised, it was good to hear from his neighbors down the street.

In the year since he opened up shop, he and Waji-san had become fast friends after Wajima's crafting table collapsed and Harry fixed it that day, free of charge, "One craftsman to another." In truth, he had felt the residual magical energy in the stone shards that lay around the workroom, so it was more like "One wizard to a possible other."

"It was the cuckoo-clock that hangs on the post to the left of the entrance." Wajima replied regretfully. "You would not believe it! It was this freak accident with . . . a . . . actually, never mind, that part isn't important. Can you come over to make sure we got all the pieces together?"

"Sure thing, Waji-san! I'll be over in a pop!" And with that, Harry tossed the receiver back on the holder, grabbed his bag of clock repair tools, and left his shop with a sign on the door saying, "Be back in a spell!"



It was a couple minutes after the phone call, as Potter's Repairs was only a few blocks away, when Harry stepped into the shop with a bright grin and mischief in his eyes. At least, that's how Haruto always thought he looked, like he was either going to shake your hand, hug you, pants you, or a mixture of all three. Repressing his shudder at the thought, Haruto waved him in towards Wajima's workroom, then returned to his sugar donut. Shunpei, after calming down marginally, made a run for a bag of them to make himself feel useful. Harry eyed the maple donut he knew was for him and, with an internal YOLO (why he used that word, he will never know), swooped in and snatched the bag from Haruto before plopping down beside hime.

"Dragho-chwan, ifth gwood thfu fthee ywou!" Harry exclaimed, with no small amount of crumbs. After receiving a glare Haruto usually on reserves for phantoms and those who call him 'Dragon-chan', Harry received the message and swallowed to continue the conversation. Despite Harry being older than Haruto by several years, he seemed so carefree. Far too carefree for the pain he can sometimes see when Harry thinks no one is watching. Yet, in the year since they became acquainted, the dark haired man was a good friend, even if Koyomi seemed to despise him, but she was like that with everybody, at first. Also, the fact that he has shown no small amount of magical ability may have something to do with it. Haruto doubted any kind of magic that powerful came without a cost

Shunpei simply sat and stared, still a bit in shock from the cuckoo incident, and this newcomer was far too much for him to handle at the moment, so he went back to his fetal position in the corner.

They sat in silence for a bit before the bell above the door rang again, and officer Daimon Rinko came in with a cheery, "Ohayo, minna!" Only to pause at the sight of Haruto and a total stranger (to her) sitting on the couch, both with identical faces of surprised, even matching sugared donuts hanging from the mouths. A clock chimed. Then, Haruto seemed to come to first, and noticing Harry was eating one of his plain sugar donuts, proceeded to pounce on him with a chokehold. Harry refused to give up, however; so through a feat of grace, made even more spectacular by the fact that he didn't even make the couch rattle, he leapt over the side of the couch into a short tumble. Once on the other side, he stood up straight, donut in mouth like some sort of fried gold medal, and gave the classic Olympic dismount salute. Finished with his current theatrics, he approached the still stunned Rinko and, after carefully wiping the donut crumbs on his knee torn and grease stained jeans, offered his hand. "Hello, I'm Harry, and who might you be?"

Rinko was understandably tongue tied, but you don't survive in the police academy by freezing when things get weird. Well, weirder, considering what happened the last couple of weeks.

A clock chimed. Hesitantly, Rinko switched from the standard bowed greeting to the offered handshake, and was surprised by how calloused his hands were. Judging by that, the state of his clothes, and the bag of tools she saw by the workshop, he must be the repair man she heard about briefly from Wajima-san. Going out on a limb, she decided to test her theory.

"Hello, my name is Daimon Rinko, and it is nice to meet you. Are you here to fix something?" She waited, gauging his reaction. With a smirk, he replied, "Yes, actually, I am. Are you here to arrest someone, Detective Rinko-chan?" Slightly shocked, and a bit impressed, she decided to tease back, "That depends, did either of you save me a donut?" Her response was identical looks of panic between the two. Harry hesitantly offered the half eaten one in his hand, and Rinko frowned a bit dangerously.

Whelp, here it is folks, first installment of my first story (yay?). I hope you all like. If you don't, let me know why and I'll try to fix it. I'm updating it already because I'm still figuring out the system, so gomen for any confusion. Also, if ya'll are hoping for more backstory, tough luck. I'll give snippets every now and then, but this story is still mostly Kamen Rider. Think of Harry's presence as more of a fun addition. There will be plot changes coming, but nothing that affects the characters growth too much. Please leave comments, and I'll give a cookie for each! (Flames will have slightly burnt cookies, but cookies nonetheless).