Title. Horizon
Author. Mech
Project Duration. 11/9/07—8/28/09
Applicable Genres. Drama, with a dash of the humor that has to come with Ouran
Rating. T
Warnings. Interpretable homosexuality; minor OCs; alcohol; questions that are not to be answered immediately; unidentified flashbacks and time transitions; grave topics including but not limited to serious illness and depression; only minor inclusion of Takashi and Mitsukuni (sorry, fans)
Parings. Nothing explicit, but interpretable just about everything
Summary. "Let's not dwell in the past – look only towards the future!"—though the flicker in his eyes indicated that it was difficult for him to do so—"You will come back to France with me, won't you, Haruhi?" Future fic, if you couldn't already tell.
Inspiration. If I told you, it'd ruin the surprise(s).
A Note on Language. All the French used in this story comes from my own personal knowledge with the occasional use of a dictionary if necessary. I've had three semesters of college-level instruction, including two of Intermediate and one that was conducted entirely in French. Still, I'm not a native French speaker, so my grammar may not be perfect. All the Swedish – yes, Swedish; you'll discover the reasons later – used either comes from an online dictionary written by a native speaker that I found and/or the free program Byki Express, both of which include helpful, example phrases that are the limit of the usage here. As for notation:
"This was said in Japanese."
"This was said in English."
"On a dit cela en français ou suédois." (This translates to: "This was said in French or Swedish."
Anything left untranslated is not necessary for the comprehension of the story, and mostly used for the fun of it and dramatic effect. That said, if you can understand it, good for you – you may be a step ahead of other readers. As for you, other readers – don't worry about it. You'll find out sooner or later.
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Chapter 1
Are the memories I hold still valid or have the tears deluded them?
- "Gravity," Maaya Sakamoto
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He took a deep breath and knocked on the door, which opened shortly thereafter.
"Dommage, ma chérie, parce que je n'ai pas peut trouver des fleurs assez jolie que toi! Alors, je crois que les fleurs de cette qualité n'existe pas."
It first crossed her mind that his voice sounded all the more charming in French.
Then it occurred to her that she hadn't understood a single word he said, because it was in French.
Next Fujioka Haruhi wondered why Suou Tamaki was standing on her doorstep, holding a bouquet of red roses, and sporting some ostentatious garb that could only have come out of the Renaissance era. He smiled, and it gleamed so much in the sunlight that she couldn't but smile as well above her surprise. He didn't bother waiting for her voice to release itself from her throat before stepping into the apartment and searching for a vase.
"Tamaki—"
"I told you I'd come back for you, didn't I?" he interrupted, arranging the bouquet within a glass container taken from one of the cabinets.
"Yes, but—"
"Have I lost that handsomeness you so admired about me?" he wailed dramatically. It had been several years, but some things never change.
"I never admired that about you."
"Or have you found another? No, say it isn't so!" He flung his arms in the air and knelt down in front of her pleadingly.
"Tamaki-senpai," she deadpanned.
"Yes, my dear daughter?"
"How did you get my address?"
"Let's not dwell in the past – look only towards the future!"—though the flicker in his eyes indicated that it was difficult for him to do so—"You will come back to France with me, won't you, Haruhi?" Standing up abruptly, he outstretched his hand for her to take. Her immediate reaction was one of hesitation, but before she could voice her concerns he silenced her with a finger to her lips. "You have Golden Week off, don't you? Spend it with me in France, and then make your decision."
Slowly, a smile crossed her lips. "All right." But as she reached for his hand, the pale, European fingers faded into the background, shocking her into exclaiming, "...Tamaki!?" and forgetting the honorific altogether. In its place she heard the voice of another man: "Fujioka-san? Fujioka-san...?" and in a daze wondered why Tamaki would be calling her such a thing. Someone grabbed her shoulder and shook; her eyes lazily drifted open.
"Tsukahara-san...?" she identified, prying her face off the manila folder that lay open on her desk. The man standing in front of it grinned warmly, the corners of his mouth crinkling with stress-filled wrinkles.
"Working late again, too, Fujioka-san? What do you say we head on home? I'll walk with you to the station." With a brief word of acceptance, Haruhi began gathering up her things quickly and efficiently, including the manila folder whose paper clipped contents had left its mark on her cheek. Lord knew how she could possibly march her way through this case, even with working additional hours at home. Less than two months after completing law school and passing the bar exam and already her career was giving her more than a fair share of dreams with which any psychic would have a blast. She had half a mind to give Kousaka a call and ask for advice – along with whether Tamaki was reallyin France and newly into the fashion of the Renaissance – but knew that giving in this early on in the game could only mean ominous failure.
On the way to the station, she took the opportunity to discuss the case with her paralegal in an attempt to clarify any detail that might be of assistance. Normally, she would have denied any offer for unnecessary companionship, but seeing as how they did, in fact, start the journey home from the same station and even the same platform, a rejection would have called for more trouble than an acceptance. At last freed from Tsukahara's friendly but overwhelming character, Haruhi stepped through the front door of her apartment, automatically hitting the button on the answering machine.
"You have – three – new messages. First message:"—The bubbly voice of her American friend from college came on the line.—"'Hey, Haruhi! This is Christina. Guess what!? I'm getting married! Let me know if you're going to visit the states again so you can come to the wedding, too. Ciao! ...Oops, wrong language!'"
Click. Smiling fondly, Haruhi pressed the "delete" button.
"Second message:"—an equally exuberant tone—"'Haruhi-chan, you haven't called your father in such a long—'" Rolling her eyes, Haruhi hit the "delete" button once more.
"Third message:"—an unfamiliar voice—"'This is Hitachiin Industries, reminding you of your appointment scheduled for 11 o'clock AM tomorrow. Please be prompt. If you have any questions, please call 03-3364-2311.'"
(A/N: In case you were wondering, this is actually the phone number for the Shinjuku branch of the National Museum of Nature and Science in Tokyo.)
Her finger paused briefly over the button before shifting to the next one over.
"'This is Hitachiin Industries, reminding you of your appointment scheduled for 11 o'clock AM tomorrow. Please be prompt. If you have any questions, please call 03-3364-2311.'"
Okay, so she hadn't imagined it. But what did it mean? She had no memory of scheduling an appointment with the Hitachiins, especially considering how she hadn't seen nor heard from either of them since their high school graduation. Absentmindedly, she wondered if this could have any connection with her sudden, inconvenient dream concerning Tamaki and his equally mysterious status. Repeating the message one more time, she wrote down the number and immediately called it back. Hopefully, even though it was well past eight, someone would be there to answer.
"Hitachiin Industries, how may I help you?" the mechanical voice of the secretary answered automatically.
"This is Fujioka Haruhi," she began in response. "I received a message regarding a meeting tomorrow that I never scheduled, so I'm afraid you have the wrong person." But the reply was not one of the expected possibilities.
"I assure you that we do not, Fujioka-san. Hitachiin-sama specifically requested that we ensure your presence here at 11 tomorrow." Briefly wondering to whom the "we" referred, Haruhi wrinkled her brow and decided that it was probably best to just go with the flow.
"'Hitachiin-sama'?" she asked instead. "Which one?"
Uncharacteristically breaking her robotic staccato, the assistant sounded confused. "Hitachiin Hikaru-sama."
Without dwelling on the choice of twin indicated, she capitulated. "All right; I'll be there. Could I have the address, please?" After the answer was received and written down, they both said their polite good-byes and hung up the phone. Then, Haruhi stared at the post-it note in her hands for a solid minute before sighing and planning how she could possibly get to the address in Tokyo traffic, have the mysterious meeting, and return to the office, all within her lunch hour. Actually eating lunch would be helpful as well.
It wasn't until she was in a taxi the next day that it really occurred to her how she would be seeing her old friend after approximately five years. Half in a daze, she followed the guide up the elevator and down a few hallways through bustling crowds of individuals of a much higher class than herself. At last, the escort opened the wide, wooden doors to a room marked Drawing Studio.
"Hitachiin-sama, your 11 o'clock has arrived," he announced, bowing deeply. Glancing up from his hunched position at the long, lone table in the center of the room, Hikaru's look of frustration at whatever he was sketching instantly transformed into relief as he set tired, hazel eyes upon his guest.
"Haruhi!" he exclaimed as if he had not set up the meeting himself as she knew he had. "Good to see you. Come, have a seat." As she took him up on the offer, the escort let them be with a final bow. "How have you been? I bet you're making your way to the top of the lawyer food chain already."
"I'm trying, at least," she laughed. Glancing over to his half-finished picture, she wasn't quite sure whether or not to be affected by how the garment was clearly designed with Renaissance Europe in mind. "I've been all right; typical commoner lifestyle, I suppose – not that you would know what that's like." Shrugging, she tossed him a pointed, effective look. "What about you? Is Kaoru around?" Even before his solemn answer was admitted, his face clearly showed that she had asked the wrong question – or the right one, depending on one's point of view.
"Actually... that's why I called you here. Mostly." Averting his gaze, he picked up the pencil and began aimlessly filling in the shadows of the dress. "I want you to help me find him. You work in law; you're good at finding people, right?"
"'Find'?" Haruhi inquired, ignoring the rhetorical question. "What do you mean by that? You're his twin – don't you know where he is?" The instant the statement left her mouth and the guilt struck Hikaru's normally carefree features, she regretted it, cursing her unintentionally sharp tongue.
"It isn't my fault, Haruhi," he choked out, though clearly trying to convince himself more than her. "He hasn't contacted me since the summer after we graduated Ouran. He just told me that he had 'things to sort out' and left." Gripping the pencil tighter, he furiously erased one of the sleeves. Haruhi recalled how she had been seen off at the airport by only Hikaru – something about the other twin being busy. She wondered for how long Kaoru had been gone at that point, and how much force it must have taken for Hikaru to plaster that smile across his face.
"I finally got it out of my parents that he's in Stockholm," he continued, "but they don't know where exactly. He never told them. Why wouldn't he let me know where he is?" Even if the tone of the question had begged response, he didn't leave room for one. "So, I'm going to find him myself. You have Golden Week off, don't you? Come with me to Sweden, and help me find Kaoru. Please." At last, he turned a pleading gaze on her. Even if she had the heart to refuse his desperate request, she was fairly certain that he would have found some way to kidnap her and bring her along for the ride anyway. And so, she had to capitulate.
"On one condition: I have to be back by the end of Golden Week. If not, and I consequently lose my case, then you're responsible for the full retribution charges."
"Sure thing," conceded Hikaru. Beside her stern gaze, an honest smile lay on his face. "In that case, would you like to grab some lunch?"