"Deepest River"

Chapter 1

She glanced over her shoulder. As always, there was nothing there, but only her instinctive feeling of something behind her. She was never going to break the habit if she kept submitting to her senses like this, and she knew this too, and so came a sigh. Memories were always attacking her like this, little by little each day, slowly stroking that surface of her inner conscious that kept her herself.

She knew one day it would cease the gentle lamentation and advance to something greater, something she'd come to hate.

Haruhi walked on, going down the street with only half her mind where it was supposed to be, shopping. She picked up a few apples from a vendor who looked like he was worse off than her, so sympathy overtook her to buy three apples from her. Farmers had to work hard these days to even sell anything, but society still had to eat, regardless which class you belonged to.

The apples were a gorgeous deep red, the shade you just didn't see everyday anymore. The days now were not the way it used to; seem to be a faint dry stain of what the old days used to be. Apples weren't the same anymore, neither were people.

Of course, she was not an exception to this concept herself. She thought the world was getting staler, but maybe, it's just her view that's getting staler.

She threw this thought away as she concentrated the rest of her mind to resist the five urges in the last half an hour to turn around. Instead, she turned to look at streams of sunlight seeping through the oak leaves above her, enhancing the shade given to the branches below. A hot wave floated pass her, under her nose and chin, taking its time, as if teasing the sweat drops gathering on her neck, taking care to make sure that it annoyed her. A warm summer's day it was that early morning, and if she did not go home to take a shower soon, a shortage of water might befall the little town again.

"Again," she thought sardonically, as her mind leapt back to three weeks ago, when the water supply was all used up from the water tower. Ever since the war started between Japan, German, and the US, precautions and water rations were issued. It wasn't you had had to use coupons to get bottles of water, but you had to restrict your amount of using it. Naturally, the whole town cheated somewhat, taking showers and watering their plants, viewing the war as nothing but a speck of mould on a mound of soil.

Yes, it was times of war, just as it had been in the Second World War, countries siding with countries. Thankfully she lived in a small town, modern, but not attractive, where no soldiers were going to lay their bloody footprint on their cherished soil. They will not come, and order them to manufacture weapons for them; they will not come for housing. The spirits of their little town, two story apartments, chipped alleyways, their dried up riverbank, and occasional night markets, which they've all grown accustomed to, will not allow soldiers into their place. It wasn't a paradise, or a dream of someone, but it was a hometown they grew up in.

True, she herself, Haruhi Fujioka, had went for education at Ouran, one of the best high schools in all of Japan on a scholarship, but after four years since leaving it, she felt distant from that time she spent in it's richness, glamorous walls, and probably lilac-scented washrooms. She didn't do anything with her education, did not even pursue a future career, because the war had descended upon them, and stopped all education process from continuing in Japan for the government to save money towards war benefits.

Here, she clenched her fists stereotypically. How she loathed the government. After the announcement of Japan declaring war, her father was drafted, along with all his drinking buddies. He left her with a smile, saying that nothing will get the best of him, especially if he dressed up again during wartime and gets mistaken as a girl.

Sure, he was kidding at the time for her sake, as he watched her eyes squint to keep back the tears, but somehow, she felt that he meant it, and told him to run if bombings ever started. His regiment left next morning, leaving her alone in the house, using the money they had left, careful to make it last for atleast two years. Nobody knew how long this war was going to be.

Oh great…now she thought about the war again. Slumping with grocery bag in one hand, using the other to keep her eyes out of the sun, Haruhi streamed back home dragging her feet as the wave trickled past her legs, carrying the folds of her blue summer dress with it. Turning the alley, she arrived in front of her bland white apartment, long yellowed from the decades of rain beating against the roofs.

She took a step back in front of the door. There was a black limousine parked out in front. Such a rarity amongst these days! The limo stood out in the town scenery as a peacock would against a flock of pigeons.

Haruhi dared not go near it, for fear of offending whatever rich snob resided beyond the shaded windows, designed to deny their eyes of poor pilgrims like her.

But still, she thought unconsciously, this could not have reminded her more of her days at Ouran, when everybody except her seemed to come from some sort of big, brand name company.

She rubbed her eyes of the dust from the dirt ground and walked to the door, struggling to find her keys. While she looked down towards her pocket, she saw a blacked hair, spectacled young man sitting down beside her doormat, staring into the ugly plain view outside her window, looking more than bored, as if he couldn't help but sit there, crouched in the corner.

He seemed not to have noticed her, but Haruhi enlarged her eyes.

"Kyouya?" she almost blurted out, but made it sound polite at the last second. She looked again; it was surely him, obviously matured. Along the way, he must have gained something, for the look in his eyes greatly occupied her for a moment.

He turned his face around, away from the front of the grey, drab building. He stood up and faced her. She was surprised that he was a bit taller than he used to be.

He smiled that smile which earned him a secret nickname of her's "shadow king" in her mind. "Haruhi, shall we go in?"

She had no idea why he would say this, but Kyouya had suggested this without any pleasantries after four years of not seeing her. She decided it must be important and said no word while she unlocked her tiny apartment on the first floor. They stepped into the living room.

Why was he here? After four years of not seeing each other, and even no contact whatsoever, he was suddenly here out of the blue, but for what reason? She was never that close with Kyouya, for he was never one to approach her and talk, and certainly, she was not going to approach someone who controlled everyone in the host club secretly with intelligence.

She set down her groceries and offered a chair by the dining table to him. He took it and sat down by the window. She went over and poured him a glass of water, setting it on the table then sitting down herself opposite him. No word was spoken between them, but she supposed he would open up the conversation. After all, he was the one who somehow tracked her down to her home.

How he was still here, and not drafted, she wouldn't know. Rich people always had their way she supposed.

"Haruhi," he opened, "I'm here to talk to you today, on behalf of Tamaki."

She should've guessed. Kyouya was only here for Tamaki, he'd never do anything for other people like this.

"What is it? You seem to come a long way here," said Haruhi naturally. She didn't want things to be tense.

"Not really, I was stopping in Japan for three days. I'm leaving tomorrow."

"You are? But…" Haruhi thought his reply strange, "that means you're not living in Japan?"

His eyes grinned. "No, I'm not. I've moved to France to study there, along with Tamaki. It's quite nice there actually."

Haruhi looked at him, not satisfied with his answer for some reason, even though he answered it to the extent of all it could be worth. He saw this and added, "because we're escaping war. Our parents are afraid that we'll get drafted, and have no one to help run their company, you see."

She snorted immediately. Exactly as she thought earlier. Rich people will always be that way, that was just their logic, regardless of the fact that it may be unfair for other to enter battle, just because they were poor.

"So…what are you doing here then?"

Kyouya looked out the window where the sun was sliding behind the clouds, or rather, the clouds were covering it. He looked down for a second, then at her face. Important things required serious faces, but he just couldn't put one up today. Seeing Haruhi doing okay after four years of leaving Ouran made him feel dry inside. The war had not affected her, probably because of her rural surroundings, but only made her lose a bit of colour from her cheeks.

"I'm here today on behalf of Tamaki. He wants you to go to Paris."

The statement rang throughout the kitchen. He had kept it short and simple. She felt as if she could hear the dust fall from the kitchen counter to the floor.

A "huh?" was all she could muster.

He became serious. "Ever since we graduated, me and Tamaki that is, he's always been looking out for you, making sure that your scholarship withstood until you graduated. We applied for a university in Japan naturally, but because of the oncoming war, we transferred to Paris to escape, well," he slowed down, "our parents wanted us to anyway."

She was barely listening, calculating what this meant. If Kyouya was truly, honest to god, not lying to her right now, then that meant she would have the chance to attend school again, study abroad, and continue her life.

"Kyouya—wait I—"

He held up a hand to silence her as politely as he could. "I realize it may be strange, under all these circumstances, but you have to understand that Tamaki views you as a close friend. He wants you away from Japan, especially since the newspapers say that the war will escalate even further in a month or so. He also realizes that the only reason you're not studying outside Japan is due to your family's financial level, so he's sent me with a message saying that he himself will take all your financial problems to getting there."

Here she stopped thinking. Tamaki was paying for her again. Ever since she found out that the scholarship was paid for by Tamaki, she couldn't help but feel a slight tension of embarrassment, as she was so ignorant of how he took care of her.

"Why didn't Tamaki tell me himself? Or just phoned me? I'm sure you would have no problem getting my phone number, senpai."

"True as it may be, Tamaki is taking care of his mother, who also went to France from the US. He was going to come himself, but I convinced not to. He was really worried, that idiot."

"I see…" she said, looking down. It was World War III, he had a sick mother, but he was still looking out for her. She didn't want to accept such a big favour from him, but could a helping hand of friendship really be considered a "favour"? Perhaps, she could discuss the money issue with him later on; she could pay him off when she got a job. Certainly, she did not want to live with the conscious of owing a friend such a great sum in her lifetime.

Seeing her look, Kyouya said, "Of course, the choice is yours, but," his eyes were directly in her's, "you only have a day to decide. I said I'm leaving tomorrow, and if you choose to go, I'll pick you up tomorrow and we go together. If not, then that's that, but I think he'll be somewhat," he clicked his tongue, "depressed."

He got up, and slid the chair back in position. He took a drink, as if not to be impolite, and said goodbye, letting himself out, leaving Haruhi sitting in the kitchen for a long time, thinking about herself.

She did not know what to do, or what to say of this. Little did she know that as Kyouya walked past the metal fence of the apartment building to his hired limo, he was scoffing and smiling yet again.

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