He was the remnant of a hopeless struggle. The brief, irrational emotion defined as love that his father experienced with a French girl.
When she first saw his face, she was repulsed. The ugly, repulsive scrunching features of the infant, whose dirty, worthless blood apparent in his screams disgusted her. The traits of a worthless, devastating rebellion, she murmured, staring at her son in shock and hatred. How dare he.
He was a Suoh, a disgusting, worthless half-breed, but a Suoh nonetheless. However, the most hateful part about the infant was that he resembled his father. For he, and only he, was a Suoh.
Ignorance would be best, she decided, and left the boy with his equally repulsive mother. She burned all the postcards and letters sent by the boy, feeling disgusted by his carefree attitude, too light to inherit the Suoh empire, that she labored so strenuously to attain and preserve. Yet his happily scribbled words lingered in her mind, for he was a Suoh. She decided that hatred was the reason that she remembered his smile, his warm words.
When he was the appropriate age to return to Japan, she hesitated. Would he be enough to assist his father? Yet he was the only generation left of the family.
She knew the exact date when he would be arriving at Narita airport, excitedly written over her grandson's letters. She refused to meet the dirty boy in person. How dare he continually contact me, she thought. Yet she did not burn his letters.
When she finally met the worthless boy for the first time since his birth, she was repulsed again for his blatantly blond hair and his blue eyes, so glaringly showing his unworthy roots. He grew up in a land where the customs were vastly different, and she flinched at how he kissed her hand. He smiled at her. The boy must have known that he would never be able to meet his mother again, and he must have known that it was she who stressed the fact. Yet he thanked her, thanked her for financially assisting his mother. She was repulsed once again for his complete disregard for other's hatred.
His education was to be held in Ouran academy, operated by his father. She ignored his existence, and avoided meeting him if possible.
Her son had invited her to the Ouran festival. The chance to associate herself with other social magnates, she thought. That was the only reason that she was attending the meeting, she assured herself.
He tried to hug her, but she spat out words of hatred. He seemed repelled, but she saw, from a furtive glance that she barely permitted to herself, that he was smiling dazedly at her back. Next to him was another student, Fujioka Haruhi, the student receiving a scholarship-a commoner.
When the day finally neared an end, a social dance was organized. She sat at a corner, quietly discussing business with her son, taking care to avoid mentioning her grandson. Her son was sly-trying his best to stress his son's ability to socialize-but she ignored him. People seemed to be interested in the boy, for he was a Suoh, for he was the next generation that would continue the business empire, not for the boy himself. He was merely a shadow of the Suoh empire, and his pathetic self was lost. All for the better, she acknowledged. Better that people would pay more attention to his social degree, not to his filthy origin.
She briefly glanced into her son's eyes. It had been more than 15 years since him and his lover were separated. Her son seemed satisfied, for his love was irrational, she concluded. It would be unacceptable that a Suoh would succumb to his emotions.There was a hastily stifled commotion. She slowly directed her gaze, and she found her grandson with the student before—Fujioka Haruhi.
The boy grabbed the fork of the commoner, and, with a smile, ate the food that she picked for him. How unsophisticated, she grimaced.
"Remember, Haruhi, that I am an individual, before being a Suoh." He smiled.
The boy was a result of a worthless, ineffective rebellion that his father made against her. The offspring of irrationality, the ignorance of his pride, his role, and his responsibility as a Suoh.
She was repulsed, viewing the same scene repeating again, from generation to the next. The boy was in love, in an irrational relationship with a commoner girl, for, as he unwisely stated, he was a human before a Suoh. His boldness, his reckless audacity surprised and disgusted her.
Her son winked slyly at her, and she ignored him.
She was feeling dread, hatred, and disgust towards the child, her only grandson.
And—
And—
Despite herself, she allowed herself a small smile.
She was repulsed at the child, for he was the outcome of love, yet she was smiling, within the darkness only lit by candles, at the boy, the boy who would continue the Suoh empire, the boy who was a human before a Suoh.
How worthless, she smiled.
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