Power Struggle
An Ouran High School Host Club Fanfiction
Ootori Kyouya and Houshakuji Renge
Notes: Hey, remember when I wrote a story centered around these two and I said I would probably never make a story about them again? Yeah, I lied. Found this, dated November 2015. Wow...
Also, it's been years since I've seen Ouran, so my honorifics are rusty. Speaking of which, do honorifics change once they are out of high school and age? Thoughts?
Now for a little logistics, concerning Kyouya. Apparently, Japan's med school is six years, starting right after high school. Also, the word "hospitalist" here in America is used for doctors who treat admitted patients on the general floors (Med-Surg), not for Intensive Care Units.
And lastly, I made two movie references. One, is a quote Kyouya says. Second, Renge refers to a movie in the last scene. Answers on the bottom.
Hope you enjoy!
Everything in life was a power struggle, a force of will. He learned that late in middle school. Since he was a young boy, he grew up with idiotic notions of static placement and letting fate run its course. It was the help of a foreign transfer student from France to tell him that things didn't always have to be that way. If he was unhappy with something, change it.
And so he did.
The Host Club in high school was just the start. Get to know the daughters of wealthy companies and conglomerates, earn their trust, solidify the network to eventually gain future information.
After, speed through college, obtaining a Master's in Health Care Administration just before finishing up medical school, all before his 24nd birthday.
Sure, his brothers had the same degrees and scholastic achievements, but did they have the extensive financial portfolio he had? The kind that spanned through the top Fortune 500 companies, even making him a top shareholder in some of said companies?
No, they didn't.
He began as a hospitalist in his father's central hospital when his father not-so-nonchalantly began speaking of marriage. At first, Kyouya didn't think anything of it. He knew it was expected of him anyway. His brothers did it, his sister... all matches pre-arranged.
No. He would not be the same. He would not allow someone else, even if it was his own father, to choose the woman he was sworn to share 50% of everything with (that is, unless this woman agreed to sign a pre-nuptial agreement). He would find this woman himself.
Kyouya spent one evening doing just that, combing through folder upon folder of different women, data spread all over the floor. Inside each folder was a picture, along with basic family statistics, personal achievements and their financial profile. Tamaki happened to come over that very night, and within the hour, the Hitachiin twins, Mori-senpai, Hani-senpai, and Haruhi were over at his house.
The twins first discarded any women they thought were unattractive. "You're rich. You have to have good looking babies." Fair enough.
Hani was focusing on irrelevant things and random talents, like are they animal lovers, oh look, this woman studies judo...
Mori, per usual, said nothing, and enjoyed the refreshments that were provided.
Tamaki, somehow, percured a large white board, and began to organize a chart system, listing names of all the potentials.
It had turned into a matchmaking game. Kyouya frowned.
"Wait, you're considering Renge?" Haruhi asked, an underlying tone of disbelief in her voice.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up to the folder that she was holding up. There, opened, with a colored photo clipped to the first page, was their old schoolmate.
"Why wouldn't I?" Kyouya said and slowly took the folder from her hand. "She's attractive, smart, inventive, and her business prospects have grown quite a lot since she graduated high school." He began to flip through her information, listing the accomplishments she has added to her father's company, along with other investments and endeavours she had been associated with.
Kaoru nodded slowly, approvingly. "She's cute, actually."
"Even with all that crazy," Hikaru added.
"It's just weird," Haruhi voiced. "She's our friend and what we're doing here, scaling all these women, it's a little degrading. At least she deserves better treatment."
She did have a point, he realized. When he left Ouran, they had parted ways as friends. Why meet all these different women when he can just develop something with her? After all, he knew how she operated, he knew how her mind worked. Simple as that, simple advantage.
"Oh, Kyouya," Fuyumi shook her head. "Love isn't about power or advantage."
"This isn't about love. It's about marriage."
So, he waited for the next shareholders meeting. It was the first meeting of the year, and an important one at that. First meetings usually defined the tone for the entire year, of who were the dominant ones for the next 12 months, at least. At it was important for her, he noticed, because according to the memo, she would be the sole person representing her father's company.
It was a bleak Tuesday when everyone began to slowly fill the boardroom. Kyouya sat to the right of his father, his eldest brother to the left. Older men in dark suits and sullen faces filled the chairs around the long oval table.
She walked in, floated almost, her black stiletto Christian Louboutin heels barely touching the floor as she entered the room. With a black large work tote in hand, a black coat draped over her other arm, she placed her bag on the floor beside her seat off-center on the side opposite of Kyouya. And red. She wore a deep, rich, blood red pencil dress, with cap sleeves and an asymmetrical neckline that showed just a hint of her collarbone. Her hair was free from any hair ties or ribbons.
Red. The business color of aggression. Of power. It was a far cry from the pinks and yellows she had been wearing for the past six months since she started going to these meeting with her father. How very interesting.
Their eyes met from across the table. She smiled at him.
He returned with a smirk, his attention fixed on her throughout the meeting. Breathe, he mentally reminded himself.
When Yoshio adjourned the meeting, everyone simultaneously stood from their seats, including Renge. Kyouya quickly stood from his seat. "Renge," he grabbed her attention. He approached her as she turned to him. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"
"Just lunch. And then heading back to the office."
"Perhaps I would join you for lunch."
Her eyebrows rose. "Really?"
"Would you like the company?"
A smile manifested on her lips. "I would."
One casual luncheon turned to two, to four, to eight, to sixteen, to more. Soon, he was having lunch with her at least once a week, sometimes more. At first, he was paying for the bill, but then, she began finding sneaky ways of paying the bill, such as telling the waitress to charge her when she left the table to go to the ladies room, even calling the restaurant ahead of time, providing a credit card number.
"I insist," Kyouya told her one afternoon.
"I'll let you pay when we are finally on a date," she laughed, and then put a hand to the bill folder as the waitress put in down.
"Who said these aren't dates?"
Renge was struck silent at first, unsure of how to respond to that. "Well..." she shrugged, trying to coyly play off her shock. "Most dates I've been on involves desserts and alcohol."
"I so happen to know of a jazz lounge that serves a very good dirty martini," he indirectly proposed. Of course he knew one of her favorite drinks.
Her amber eyes sparkled with amusement.
They had agreed to meet the next night, at the jazz lounge he suggested. He arrived promptly at 8pm, pulling his Porsche up to the valet. He dropped the keys off to the attendant and stepped inside the elevator. The lights in the elevator were bright white, reflecting off the metal doors. He took this opportunity to do a last minute check, straightening out his black tie, smoothing down the lapels of his gunmetal grey suit.
The doors opened to the 10th floor, opening to a dark hallways, dimly lit with amber and yellow lights. He passed through the hallway and entered the lounge. At the other end of the room was a large stage, where the piano player and saxophone player performed. The main floor was scattered with stools, tables, and low cushioned ottomans, where people gathered in private groups to chat amongst themselves. He approached the bar, wondering if she arrived yet.
He saw her instantly. She sat on one of the barstools, left leg crossed over the right. Business attire was completely a thought of the past. Renge had her hair gathered up in a side bun, her tawny blonde hair swept to the side. She wore a backless dark magenta sequined dress that ended mid-thigh, and her feet were adorned in simple strappy high heels.
Kyouya took a deep breath. She was quite a sight, he had to admit. When he regained focus, he approached her. "Good evening."
She turned to him, and smiled. "Hello," and she took the liberty of looking at him up and down. "You cut a suit very nicely."
"And you look...amazing..." was all he could muster. He took a seat beside her.
The evening progressed and Kyouya felt his head swimming further and further. Her earrings, thin curved wires, nothing particularly special about them, but how they curved inwards, accentuated her bare neck, down to her bare shoulder... And the fact that he had to lean forward to hear her over the music, and that proximity introduced the alluring scent of her perfume, which he never noticed before. And sometimes, she would place a hand on his knee as they spoke to one another, and how she could easily look at him straight in the eye as she did it, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, as if she was perfectly in control...
Kyouya could feel himself flush. Was this really the same girl in high school? The very same one who loved romantic roleplay video games? Was this her new game? Win the attention of the future heir to the Ootori Group? He was losing control.
They walked to the elevator, descended, and then arrived on the first floor, where she called for her chauffeur. Within a few minutes, a light silver Bentley pulled up. Her chauffeur stepped out of the car, but paused when he noticed Kyouya reach to open the back seat door with one hand, the other hand grazing the skin on her back.
Just before she stepped in the back seat, she turned to him. "You were right. The martini was good here."
"Hmm," he nodded slightly, his eyes looking at hers, then began following the lines of her cheeks, her chin, her collarbone...
"But like I said, I like my dates with alcohol and desserts. Maybe..." Renge reached up to his lapel, playing with the fabric in between her grip.
Her action caused Kyouya to move ever so slightly forward.
"Maybe next time, I can get something sweet. From you." Renge smirked at him, mirroring his own. "Good night."
"Yes. Good night." He watched her sit into her car, and he closed the door.
As her car drove away, he took a long, deep breath in the cold air. He gave his ticket to the valet to fetch his car. While he waited, he tugged on his tie, loosening the collar so he could unbutton the top button.
Other nighttime dates followed, and before he knew it, Kyouya realized he couldn't stop thinking about her. Not in the aspect as originally planned, when he calculated and planned his next move of her liking him enough to agree to marry him, but something else. He thought about the color of her eyes, her lips, her scent, the way she smiled, the way she laughed, the curve of her neck and back, the way she gazed at him under long lashes... This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be... For god's sakes, he's been imagining for weeks now what it would be like to finally kiss her. What if he got in her car with her and kissed her senseless in the back seat, until their clothes were rumbled, her makeup smeared, and his hair mussed and out of place?
Kyouya was disgusting himself. He was losing control of himself, he was losing it...
"Houshakuji-sama extends her sincerest apologies, but she will have to cancel her scheduled lunch with you, Ootori-sama."
It was late spring when her assistant had left a message with his assistant, canceling lunch. He read the pink slip of paper over a few times. Renge had his cell phone number. Why didn't she just call him or text him herself?
Something tugged at him, hard, and before he knew it, he jumped out of his office chair and sped through two wards before reaching the Houshakuji Corporation Building. He stopped in front of her office, in front of her assistant. "Excuse me," he put on his most cordial smile. "May I please speak with your boss?"
"Um, she's currently out-."
"Her Audi is currently parked in her spot, and considering that her blinds are still open, I can see her in her office right behind you." Kyouya never broke his smile. "Please tell your boss I am here."
Her assistant shuddered, then took a deep breath, picking up the phone. "Houshakuji-sama, Ootori-sama is here to see you. Yes. Yes." She hung up the phone and looked up to him. "She will be here-."
Before she could finish, the door behind her flew up, revealing the occupant inside. Renge stood in the doorway, staring right at him. "What brings you here, Kyouya?"
Pink nose. Red-rimmed eyes. Eyeliner slightly smeared on her left eye. Kyouya narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "You canceled lunch today?"
"Something came up," Renge held her head high, regardless of her smeared makeup.
He wasn't a fool. "It's just you've usually told me on your own, and not through a message. What's really wrong?" Leaving him a message with his assistant rather than directly texting him? Of course he would be suspicious. What was this, a cry for help?
Turns out, his instinct was right. Within one breath, Renge's eyes filled with tears. Immediately, Kyouya approached her, took her by the shoulders and escorted her into her office. He closed the door behind her and closed the blinds, keeping her breakdown in private, while she stood, her hands folded over her mouth. He approached her and stood before her, waiting for Renge to gain some sort of composure.
He didn't notice it at first, but he could feel his own anxiety rise with every tear that fell down her face.
"They..." she finally spoke. "They don't think I deserve it."
" 'They'?"
"The new members," she answered between hiccups. "They think I got my job because of Otou-sama, not because of... because of my own merit."
He could feel a tight, white anger grow inside his throat, moving up to his head, clouding his sight. How dare these men and women that made such assumptions. They had absolutely no idea, being self-absorbed in their own struggles! He had to take a deep breath and calm himself once again. "These new board members of yours know nothing. They don't know you started in the mail room, and worked your way up, so that you could understand every fiber of your company. These people don't understand us, the world we were thrown into since birth. They think everything is handed to us, but we have to earn our right in the world, just like everyone else. We have to prove we deserve our birthright."
She looked up at him, amber eyes glimmering with tears. "Do I deserve it?"
"Yes, because you earned it."
Her lips quivered and a whole new set of tears started. Renge buried her face deeper into her hands and then leaned forward, her forehead falling onto his chest.
Kyouya's breath caught in the back of his throat on contact. He could feel his body heat up, his heart beating faster than normal, his vision hazy. His hands reached up to her shoulders and stayed there for a few moments before his arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders.
A dark, grave and frightening realization manifested in the back of his mind. He felt helpless when she cried. And at the same time, he wanted to destroy anything to dust that which made her this upset.
What was happening to him?
Tamaki smiled at him knowingly. "Mon ami, you're no fool."
"This wasn't part of the plan. Marriages are contractual agreements. There's benefits that come with it."
"What greater benefit to love is there but happiness?"
"Love and happiness has nothing to do with prestige or power."
"Oh, how wrong you are, dear friend!" the blond threw his head back in laughter. "There is so much power in love. The fact alone is this: when two people love each other, they are trusting one another to make each other happy. They are surrendering to the other person because they know that other person has the capability, the power to make them happy. You can make her happy. All you have to do is let her know."
So easier said than done. He scoffed. No book, no clinical research, nothing, could teach him exactly how to handle this situation. He knew weeks ago, months even, that he wanted to marry her. But under what pretense should he ask her? As a business proposition? As a emotional declaration?
No. He couldn't find it in himself to be honest with her when it came to his feelings. It was never in his nature. And to be perfectly frank, well... he was scared. To surrender? To emotionally give himself to one person, not knowing how they would disregard him tomorrow? Next week? Next year? Five years? Longer? No. Impossible. He could commit to someone because of obligation, sure. But emotional investment? That investment has far too much risk.
"I think it would be in our best interest to pursue this relationship. To the lines of marriage."
Renge looked at him quizzically. It was a bleak day in mid-June when they sat for lunch together, in a quiet cafe. The rain was pitter-pattering hard against the window beside them. " 'Our best interest'?" she repeated. "You mean, because I'm rich and smart and will inherit a multi-million dollar company, just like you?"
"Yes."
"And, nothing else?"
He hesitated for a moment, his mouth briefly opening, closing, and then open again to speak. "What else is there?", swallowing the lump in his throat.
Renge seemed to have noticed him falter. Still, she released a breath, something along the lines of a disappointed sigh. "Don't insult me, Kyouya. Yes, we would both profit from marrying each other, but you know very well I would never want to marry anyone without emotions. And you are not as cold and unfeeling as you make yourself out to be."
He watched her stand, her chair scooting back from behind her.
"We're far more alike than you think. Our actions speak far louder and longer than words. So, I'm going to have to refuse." She reached for her purse and flung it onto her shoulder. "That is, until you can at least show me that you remotely care as much as I know you do." Swiftly, she turned on her heels and stormed out the restaurant, grabbing her umbrella on the way out.
Kyouya sat quietly, chin cradled in his hand. How could she possibly know how he feels? They've only been seeing one another for half the year. That's not enough time to know a person, right? Memories from the past six months played in his mind like a fast forwarding reel. From their luncheons, their evening dates, times when she helped him on a presentation on his company's quarterly fiscal figures, when he helped her on her new idea projects... He would coach her on how to present her ideas, she would advise him on the consumer perspective... Times when they exchanged childhood stories, times when she made him smile or laugh, times when he lifted her up after she doubted herself...
When he made her smile, he felt... happy. And empowered.
He dropped enough yen on the table to pay for their check, all while picking up his raincoat from the back of his seat and then darted out of the restaurant, completely forgetting his umbrella. He threw his arms through the raincoat sleeves just as he stepped outside, the rain beating down on his face and head. Kyouya crossed the parking lot, following her to her car. "Renge!" he called for her, over the echoes of the rain.
Renge turned to him, her eyes wide, realizing he was approaching her, without any real protection from the weather. "Kyouya, what-?"
As soon as she was in reach, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards him. In one fluid motion, he pulled her, reached his other hand out to cradle her cheek and leaned forward, kissing her on the lips.
The umbrella was dropped to the ground, exposing the couple to the elements, to the warm breeze, to the pounding rain. Renge's hair began to stick on her neck and forehead, but she did not protest; she reached around his waist, grabbing fistfuls of his coat at his back, holding him towards her. He moved her closer, his hand cradling the back of her head, fingers tangling in her wet hair, his other arm wrapped around her shoulders.
If it weren't for the human requirement of oxygen, Kyouya would have stayed that way. However, the element was coming a necessity, so he pulled away ever so slightly, and slowly inhaled, his forehead still pressed to her. Renge released a sound from the back of her throat, like a moan in protest. Kyouya smiled internally, silently patting himself on the back for garnering that reaction from her.
He dared to open his eyes, and through the raindrops stuck to his lenses, he could see her eyes flutter open, her amber and gold eyes staring right back at him. "Ask me again," she whispered.
He blinked.
"Please," she gripped his raincoat tighter, keeping him pressed against her. "Ask me again."
Surrender and yield, is that what she was asking? No, he thought. Those weren't in his vocabulary. "If I recall correctly, Renge, I never asked you anything."
"If I recall correctly, Kyouya, you asked me to marry you."
"I proposed the idea," he pointed out.
"Well, I propose that you propose again," Renge's brow arched towards her hairline as she placed her hands on his arms, putting some distance between their bodies. "Honestly, Kyouya, you're such a buzzkill!" she began to raise her voice, as if trying to compete with the sounds of the raindrops and the cars zooming by outside of the lot. "Here we are, playing out a romantic scene with rain and kisses straight out of a movie, and here you are, being a stubborn-"
Sometime while she complained about her ruined romantic comedy movie scene, Kyouya realized something. He wasn't surrendering to her. Out of the billions of men in the world, she was choosing him to propose to her. To marry. To spend the rest of her life with. To share all her assets with, 50/50… unless she was considering a pre-nuptial agreement, but she didn't seem the type. Hell, even he was thinking of not bothering with it anymore. But most importantly, to make her happy. Renge knew Kyouya had the capability to make her happy. All he had to do was accept that granted power.
Oh god, Kyouya grudgingly realized, Tamaki was right.
"And here we are, out in the middle of a typhoon, and I'm basically out here like Audrey Hepburn, minus a cat, and-!"
He reached his hands out to her, cradling her face in between his hands, immediately halting her complaints in her throat. He leaned forward, kissing her, showing her that she did not make a mistake in choosing him, that he was indeed up for the challenge. She gasped, her mouth slightly parted from shock.
Kyouya placed both hands to her hips, pulling away just enough so that he could speak. "Let's try this again," he said, his lips brushing hers on every single word. "I believe, whether financial or emotional, business or personal, it is in our best interest to marry and be married, forever."
She arched a brow again. "I guess that's as romantic as you're going to get," she muttered. Her eyes hovered over his lips, before connecting with his eyes. " 'Forever'?" she repeated, a smile slowly manifesting on her face.
"Yes," he assured.
"Well, I suppose," she giggled, and draped her arms around his shoulders. "In the best interest of both parties."
"Mm-hm," Kyouya nodded and kept his proximity, his forehead again against hers. He took a breath and once again, pressed his lips to hers as the sky continued its powerful, torrential downpour.
Did you catch the movie references?
"What else is there?" - Prince Derek, from The Swan Princess. That was his statement when Princess Odette asked him if beauty was all that mattered. It was a real face-palm moment.
"... like Audrey Hepburn, minus a cat..." - Breakfast at Tiffany's. In the last romantic scene, the two main characters share a kiss in the pouring rain. While she holds her cat.
Thanks again for taking the time to read this. I really do miss writing Kyouya and Renge. Maybe I'll write a chapter story. Maybe I'll just continue to write one-shots. Who knows?