A/N – So…I've had this fic in mind for a while, but it had been impossible to write because of time and because of its nature. I hope that everyone enjoys it, especially since I hope to update this one as well as use it to keep on track with Semicolon Blues. If you are reading this and Semicolon Blues, I am not trading one for the other! I promise. I can't promise that I will update regularly, but I will try.
In regards to this story, I thought it would be really interesting to do one of the "Host Club all grown up" stories, so that's my goal. I'm trying to grow them up by 10 years while keeping their main personality traits the same, so it makes sense that they would act more mature while still being the same cooky yet wonderful guys we are so in love with. Review and let me know what you think! I always appreciate the feedback!
IIIII
It has been just about ten years since we all decided to follow Haruhi and that moron to Boston. I never imagined that such a hopeless idiot would finally figure out how much Haruhi meant to him, and not only that, such a hopeless idiot decided to follow her. Tamaki is such an idiot. That really has not changed. For ten years it has not changed. Other things have though. For instance, Tamaki and Haruhi have been married for seven of those ten years. They also have a child. I believe that she is now five. Her name is Sophie, and she presented quite a problem for Haruhi when she entered Waseda Law School. It was a good thing for her and Sophie both that Tamaki's grandmother allowed Tamaki to work from home, but I know that hopeless idiot enjoyed every moment of it and would not have had it otherwise.
Tension between the Suoh family has abated, which can be seen in the way their companies stocks have risen as well as the barbecues held almost monthly that Ranka, the Suoh family servants, Tamaki's father and grandmother, and the Fujioka-Suoh's (Yes, they both took one another's surname—quite reflective of them both, I suppose In business, the Suoh Corporation has branched into management of hotels across the globe as well as in founding schools for learning other languages. Tamaki's eye for business ventures, though still flamboyant, capricious, and overwhelmingly optimistic, have helped the Suoh Company thrive in a way it has not. Well, not since the late Chairman Suoh, Tamaki's grandfather, passed. Still, Tamaki is still the hapless moron he always was.
Haruhi deals with him well enough. She's actually grown more passionate, laughing and joking more often and about more things. I am certain that being married to Tamaki would do that. The two of them are quite a match.
Speaking of matches, the twins had what you might call a "break-up." It wasn't as dramatic as one of the fake fights, nor as heart wrenching as the one they had had when I was in was France during my second year, but it was a split nonetheless. After the semester abroad in Boston, Kaoru was the only one to go back to Japan. He finished out his years at Ouran, graduated and attended university for fashion merchandising. He helps his father work behind the scenes, managing the Hitachiin family business. I believe his first child is due in a few months time.
Hikaru, on the other hand, dropped out of Ouran and got a job as a fashion designer in Paris. After making a living by doing sketches for miscellaneous designers, he finally aided a new and upcoming young designer create a themed clothing line based upon the Wonders of the World. The dress for the Hanging Gardens of Babylon was exquisite; however, the Taj Mahal swimsuit left something to be desired. At any rate, this clothing line launched Hikaru and the designer he worked with into the heart of the fashion industry. Hikaru has been dating this model on and off. They both travel very often, so they have yet to settle down.
Due to their schedules, Hikaru and Kaoru rarely see one another. They do keep in contact with one another. That is perhaps made easier because the Hitachiin family financially supports Hikaru and his partner's ventures. The twins are still close, though there are not physically so.
Another seemingly perfect match that split was Honey-sempai and Mori-sempai. Again, their break was not permanent, but distance was the separation. Mori-sempai chose to go back to Tokyo University and finish his degree in Jurisprudence and then went to Waseda Law School. Even in graduate school he was Haruhi's sempai. Mori-sempai works as the personal lawyer to the Haninozuka family, but since only Yasuchika decided to go into the Haninozuka family business, Mori was free to open his own private law company—the company he founded alongside Haruhi.
Honey-sempai stayed in Boston, choosing Northwestern University to finish his Bachelors of Science in Engineering. He was scouted by NASA and has been an integral part of their astrophysics program ever since. Honey-sempai is married as well, but his wife is unable to have children. That is not a problem; however, since she also works for NASA as an astronaut, she sometimes will be gone for six months at a time, which isn't productive for having a child. Mori-sempai has had enough children for the two of them. His college sweetheart has had one almost every year since they graduated graduate school. I think that means they are at child number four.
Everyone has been doing well on their own. Tamaki is relentless and keeps up to date with everyone. He calls me every Friday evening at 10:00pm my time, roughly 11:00am Saturday in Tokyo. I still live in Boston. Honey-sempai and I were roommates until he moved to Texas. We both decided that living simply would help us create our own lives. Honey-sempai wanted to be separated from the Haninozuka fortune; I aided him. Pretending that I wanted nothing to do with the Ootori family business ended up proving useful to me. I graduated top of my class from Harvard Business School and achieved my Master's and Doctorate degrees while founding and running the first stateside Ootori business affiliate.
I've done well for myself, as expected. As planned.
Last week I moved into my new house in a nice gated neighborhood. It is modest compared to my family's villa back in Japan, but it suits my needs and only has one extra guest bedroom, which means if one of my Host club friends decided to drop by, only one of them would be able to stay at my house, and it is not like I need a partner to share my life with.
Anyways, as I was unpacking some boxes shipped from Japan that I had in storage at Fuyumi's home, I found a box filled with little black notebooks. There were a few empty ones, so I decided to write in them again. Might as well, I have nothing else to do now that I'm finished with my dissertation. So here I am, sitting at my desk waiting for a new secretary that Human Resources hired to follow me around to meetings, thinking that I should start one of these again.
Besides, life is interesting enough to record; I've always thought so.
IIIII
Nervous. I am so incredibly nervous. I haven't been able to hold down a job since I was a writing tutor in college. I'm good at so many things, but none of them make any income. I'll be turning thirty-one this year, and I'm getting too old for this. No steady income, a father who is too involved with his job to call on even holidays, a mother filling up her loneliness with talk of me procreating, a brother who is currently in New York planning a wedding with his husband, and no boyfriend. I'm smart. I'm good looking. Why is it that it has taken me this long to get a job, and why am I still relationshipless?
Today, I'm beginning my job as the secretary to the CEO of some Japanese-American medical company. He's probably one of those old pot bellied men who is married, has the standard 1.89 children, and a trophy wife whom he cheats on with prostitutes on business trips. Sigh. Maybe this is why I haven't found a steady job yet. That and the fact I seem to stick my nose where it doesn't belong. It isn't my fault that my brain sometimes functions like Wikipedia.
Well, this isn't going to bring me down. This Mr. Oratorio or whatever wasn't going to get rid of me that easily.
"Ms. Emma Knightly, welcome to Ootori Medical Associates. This will be your office from now on. The phone on the right side of the desk is for international calls while the phone on the left is for domestic ones. This is your personal iPhone. All of the numbers you should need have already been programmed in. Your work e-mail has already been programmed into your phone and your new laptop, which is being stored in the bottom drawer of your desk. Mr. Ootori likes taking notes at meetings for himself, but it won't hurt for you to take your own in order to crosscheck. If you need anything, just ask me. My phone number is also programmed into your phone and is on a post-it note underneath your keyboard in case of emergency."
"Thanks." This was all a lot to take in. A laptop, an iPhone, all top of the line. The office was huge as well. It had its own coffee maker, a microwave, a refrigerator, a couch, a desk, a table with chairs, a whiteboard, a corkboard. This was like my dorm room in college. What rich son of a bitch owned this company?
"It looks like you'll be fine for meetings. You seem to write as quickly as Mr. Ootori. I still haven't figured out how he does it. Do you use shorthand, Ms. Knightly?"
"Yes. I was a court reporter for a while; I actually developed this shorthand on my own. I can keep up with conversations and my own thoughts. It's useful to me." The man looked away from me when I tried to look him in the eye. He looked shocked and slightly wary of something. Had I stepped on a landmine or something?
"I can't decide whether you and Mr. Ootori will get along really well or whether you'll kill one another. You two seem very…well…similar. Anyways, Mr. Ootori will be ready for you in five minutes. Good luck."
I couldn't really decide whether what this man said was a good thing or a bad thing. Mr. Ootori—not Oratorio—didn't have much information on the internet. He hadn't let himself be interviewed by the press and there were no pictures of him posted on the internet. Actually, there were pictures of a Kyoya Ootori from Ouran Academy in Japan, but there was no way that someone who got his bachelors, masters, and doctorate at Harvard was part of something as idiotic as a Host club. There was also no way that he was younger than me and the head of a company. Besides, there was so little information about this man online that I almost felt as if he was one of those underground black-market dealers who worked in the shadows. Oh well, I guess I would find out once I opened the door.
IIIII
"Come in. Ah, you must be Ms. Emma Knightly." This woman was in her early thirties, thin, gangly in parts with disproportionately long arms and legs. I couldn't find any information about her family other than that her father works for the American government and her brother lives in town. She graduated top of her class at Cambridge where she studied creative writing. Since graduating she has had all kinds of jobs. She worked as a secretary, a court reporter, an editor, a janitor, a gardener, a speech writer, and many others. Every manuscript she has turned in has been turned down by numerous publishers. Shame. The pieces I've found on her blog were interesting and well written.
"Hello, Sir. I'm very pleased to meet you." She smiled shamelessly. A bright and idiotic smile.
"'Sir' and 'Mr. Ootori' are too formal for someone who is older than me. Just call me, Kyoya. Now, Emma, I have to go to a meeting. Your performance during this meeting will decide whether or not you keep your job or not." Her smile might be bright and idiotic, but her eyes were cold and distant. There was something familiar in them. She looked at me, smirked, and then bowed, walking quickly to her office.
Hmn. She met me out in the hallway, a flashy sequined pink notebook in her hand with a fluffy purple pen sticking out of it.
"Is there a reason you carry around such flashy stationary equipment." I clicked the jet black desk pen in my hand a few times. She took the pen out from between the pages of her journal and flapped the fluffy tip of it in my face.
"Because I like it and it makes me happy, Mr. Ootori."
"My pen makes me happy, and it will also make the executives I am meeting with happy as well."
"Brown noser." She said it just loudly enough for me to hear. This could be an interesting development. For some reason her seemingly carefree spirit seemed to remind me of Tamaki, but she had this bite to her. Ms. Emma Knightly might be an interesting secretary to have if only I can make her get rid of that annoying pen.
IIIII
So, let me know what you think. This story was kind of born while listening to Breaking Benjamin. The song for this chapter is "The Diary of Jane." Thanks for reading!