So...Ouran High School Host Club is one of my favorite manga (which is not saying much, I guess, since I haven't really read that many). But I love the interaction of the host club members--they're all so much fun--and the strange things they end up doing make me laugh all the time. Of course, my favorite is Kyouya (we share the same birthday! Hahaha, sneaky Scorpios...) and I just can't find myself shipping HaruhiXKyouya because 1) I'd be way too jealous and 2) they don't really match, not like Haruhi and XXXXX do (I have my own name to fit that blank, but at the risk of getting flamed by very opinionated fangirls I'll refrain from sharing it and just let you fill it in yourself...everyone's happier that way I think). But of course that doesn't mean that Kyouya's alllll hands off in the realm of love...I had to give it a try. Hopefully this doesn't disappoint...I rather like what's going on. :) As always, please review! Any critiques are always appreciated, and very helpful, even if it's just encouragement for me to keep writing.
Oh right, and a few other things. I've read the manga and watched the anime and like both, so I may refer to events that happen in either or both (except for that whole Eclair fiasco because I can't for the life of me find any merit in it). However, I'm going to borrow the author's device and completely ignore the passage of time until now; that is, no time has passed yet - so all of the history that the Host Club has (in the manga/anime) is still true, but Haruhi's still a freshman, Kyouya and Tamaki are still juniors, etc.
Lastly, DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ouran High Host Club.
Prologue
Moving through the well-stocked shelves, Kyouya caught a glimpse of someone he thought he knew, and was startled; a commoner bookstore was the last place he would've expected to see a girl like Shinotsuka Miho, Ouran High School student, Class 10-A. But then, she would probably think the same thing about him, if she saw him. He shrugged, loathe to pique anyone's curiosity, and moved away. He turned into another aisle, eying the titles with interest, when somebody quite literally bumped into him.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, please excuse me," Miho apologized, ducking her head in embarrassment.
"Don't think of it," Kyouya replied automatically, and then they recognized each other and blinked. He glanced around; he didn't see anyone accompanying her—no friends, no parents (of course; he could not imagine either of the Shinotsukas in such a place as this) and no appointed guardian. Had something gone amiss? Had she been stranded, or lost?
"Can I help you? Call you a car, or something?" he asked, with a faint smile. She quickly shook her head.
"No, I'm fine. Thank you. I'm sorry again," she said, and immediately strode away; Kyouya shrugged and turned back to his own amusements, not giving the incident another thought—until much later, when he had occasion to review it with interest.
Chapter One
Miho cursed herself for her carelessness on the bus ride back to her house. She knew of Ootori Kyouya by reputation only; he was a year older than her and though they had both attended Ouran Academy from the very beginning, she had never had occasion to speak to him. She supposed if she had been the enthusiastically dutiful daughter she should have been, she would have had invented opportunities to get to know him, all for the purpose of proper social networking, but she really couldn't be bothered. Now though, she regretted her lack of knowledge of him, if only because she didn't know if he would make an issue of seeing her at a regular commoner mall. If he had known that she had snuck out of the mansion to do it—as she regularly did—that would surely have driven his curiosity even further than it probably already had. She sighed.
Then another thought occurred to her. What had he been doing there? Even if by some miraculous reason he had needed something from such a place, surely even the third son of the Ootori family could have had someone sent out for it—or simply have it ordered and delivered in an instant. She could not imagine what would drive him to the bookstore in that mall—it wasn't even the best one available to commoners. She chose it merely for its location: the large mall was always crowded, and not some desolate place in the middle of nowhere; also because of the constant traffic, no one seemed to pay her a moment's attention. She wondered; was it possible that he went there for the same reasons? She made an indelicate sound. She very much doubted it. No, more probably it was the result of something unpredicted, some detour or delay, and he had only sought to alleviate his boredom as his people fixed something or brought something or waited for something…it was always so. With that decided and cleared away, she gave it no more thought. At least, not until she got home.
Her father was waiting for her in the sitting room closest to her own apartments, which surprised her. Though he had been a frequent enough presence in her life—and even a welcome one, for the most part—when she had been younger, in recent years he was hardly home, a result of her grandfather's death and his promotion to CEO of their company, a small chain of hospitals that was nevertheless a fairly powerful presence in the country. He rarely sought her out now, though he always brought her a gift when he did. She smiled perfunctorily at him, hoping that he had not been waiting long.
"Father. How are you?"
"Well enough. Sneaking out again?" he asked mildly. She only grinned at him, expecting his usual tolerant smile in return. This time, however, he merely gave a slight shake of his head, and indicated that she take a seat on the sofa before him. She obeyed, apprehension tightening her posture.
"I have something for you," he said, to begin, and handed her something wrapped in delicate paper. She accepted it graciously, though not really in the least bit eager—if ever she had a material desire, it was usually fulfilled before she had time to voice it, or sometimes, even to realize it—and slid a hand under the overlapping layer of wrapping to slit the paper open, knowing he expected it. The two halves fell away to reveal a mass of emerald green silk, and a small jewelry box. She gave him a wry smile.
"More jewelry, Daddy? Really." She picked up the box and opened it, to find a single thick band of what was probably white gold (18k, of course, and palladium alloy, not nickel) crisscrossed with an odd, but somehow pleasing, design of circles and loops. She frowned; she liked it, but it wasn't the sort of thing he usually bought, and she couldn't really imagine him picking it out.
Without saying anything, but making sure her expression was smooth and pleased, she set the ring box down on the lacquered table in front of her and shook out the dress in her lap. It was also beautiful and elegant, a little different from anything she'd normally have occasion to wear, but it suited her tastes.
"Your mother picked that out," her father said. "She thought you'd like it. I told her I'd bring it back to you."
"Ah." Her mother was currently on business in South Korea. Her father had stopped there on his way back from a meeting in Germany. "It's lovely."
"And the ring?"
"Also lovely. Did she pick that out too?"
"No."
She smiled. "Then you bought it?"
"No." Her father's expression was curiously guarded, and she looked at him steadily, waiting for him to explain. He obliged her.
"The ring was sent," he said. She raised a single fine eyebrow inquiringly.
"You know that we have been going through a tight spot," her father said, and she frowned slightly at the non sequitur of it, but nodded.
"Yes. You and mother have been trying to form new partnerships to keep us a major player in these business games you play."
Her bold responses normally earned her a smile; this time, however, even that tried and true antic failed. Her father's expression turned grim.
"The situation was perhaps a bit darker than that, Miho. But you obviously get the gist of it." He paused, as if trying to formulate his next sentences completely before starting to voice them. "But a solution has been found."
"Ah." Miho nodded. "This is a gift from the family of our new ally, then? A gesture of goodwill?"
Her father's eyes tightened—she was much closer to the truth than she realized.
"We have reached an agreement with the Ootori family," he said slowly; Miho's eyes narrowed ever so slightly upon hearing the Ootori name—she could not help but remember her earlier encounter with the third Ootori son. Her father did not notice.
"The nature of our agreement…well. The nature of our new relationship is such that it must be cemented by a very tight bond; there are risks enough for both sides that we must both have some sort of hold in the matter, though I will not hesitate to admit that the Ootoris must always come out on top; we are merely a bit player, compared to their presence in the field. Nevertheless, their support is a big help to us now, and it will be even bigger when it is made public."
Miho listened silently, waiting for her father to come to the point.
"We have not made any explicit business deals, however," he continued. Perplexity creased her brow: what was he talking about? "We have merely concluded that the union of our families would do some good—that the presentation of our linked names to the business world, would grant both of us a legion of advantages."
He fell silent; his daughter froze. Her mind rapidly worked through what she knew of the Ootori family; three sons, one daughter. The daughter—Fuyumi, was it?—was already married, no doubt to the son of some prominent official/businessman/important somebody or another, but that wasn't important anyway, it was the sons she had to consider now, wasn't it?The oldest son was the successor to all the Ootori wealth and power—surely too important to waste on someone like her. The second son was…in medical school? At least ten years older than herself, then. Not an unheard of age gap, but not entirely plausible either, considering he was only slightly less important than his elder brother in the grand framework of the Ootori family—and the fact that there was a third son, much closer to her in age, and much less important. After all, what possible moment of caprice would incite Yoshio Ootori to name his third son the heir?
"You're too clever to remain in the dark," her father murmured heavily, almost regretfully. She turned intent eyes back to him.
"You've arranged a marriage between our families." Her voice was taut, as caustic as she dared. "Aren't we a little young?"
"Don't be absurd," her father said sharply. "You know we wouldn't dream of you marrying until you at least finished college." She only looked at him; he dropped his gaze, unable to be the stern president, the harsh businessman or the ruthless executive with his only daughter. His son, he may have managed it with, but not Miho. He sighed. "But you are correct. We have finalized the terms of the engagement."
"The announcement of the engagement will be just as effective to your ends than the actual marriage, for the moment, anyway," Miho agreed, her voice deceptively bland.
"There wasn't time to inform you of the proceedings," her father said, sensing the hidden rebuke nonetheless. "It was never a sure thing until the end; I didn't want to get ahead of ourselves."
"Of course not." Her eyes, accusing, fell on the open ring box.
"This arrangement benefits everyone involved," her father said, regaining his resolve.
"And Kyouya and I are just casualties of war," she said coolly. He frowned.
"Don't be melodramatic," he admonished. A stone settled to the bottom of her stomach. It was Kyouya, then. She thought of him in the bookstore again. Had he known?
"Everyone born into a family like theirs and ours knows that there are responsibilities to be borne," her father continued. "Kyouya is a good son; he will do what his father requires."
Miho sensed the hidden rebuke in that, too.
"Such contrast against my own flagrant disobedience," she drawled. Her father shook his head.
"Enough, Miho. I am sorry; you know I am sorry. But your marriage being arranged and decided for you was always an inevitable thing, it's just that you have the facts before you now. At least it is Kyouya. He is a striking young man, your mother says, and his academic reputation is known even amongst other families. Isn't that something to take pride in? Such a husband? He will never be inferior to you; that should satisfy you, at least."
But am I to be inferior to him? She wanted to ask, but didn't. She merely nodded, gathering up the dress and the ring she no longer wanted—had not ever wanted, not really. She bowed to her father.
"I will do as you say, of course, Father."
He studied her closed expression closely.
"Is there any reason to object to Ootori Kyouya?" he asked curiously. She shrugged.
"No. It is as you have said. He is the model student and the model son; no doubt he will become the model business man and husband as well. What more could I ask for?" She left off on other adjectives she had long since ascribed to him: unpredictable, ambitious—though not improperly so, she had to admit—, clever…a whole slew, that while not necessarily negative, at least made her wary of him. He was physically attractive, yes, and his cool exterior created another attraction of its own, but she did not altogether trust him. She suppressed a sound of derision. Did she need to? Who said women must trust their husbands? No. Only serve them. Fine. A long moment passed.
"If there's someone else, I'd advise you to get it out of your head now," her father said quietly. "It will save you a lot of trouble, in the end."
She actually laughed.
"There isn't." She thought of Kyouya's cool, enigmatic smile, his unreadable eyes and unfathomable expression. Nor was there ever likely to be, she thought. Not now.
"Whether you choose to get to know him before the engagement banquet is your own affair, of course," her father told her. "I trust you will carry it out in the matter best suited to you." He paused again. "And Miho. I would not go out to the commoner malls for a while. At least until you know if he will mind."
She made no reply to that. Instead, she held up the hand holding the ring box.
"What is this, exactly? An engagement ring? A present?"
Her father made a face.
"It is a 'pair ring;' I'm told it is the custom. I do not know if Kyouya actually has one, or if he will wear one, and I doubt he actually picked it out. Wear it or don't, though of course if he wears one, you should."
"Too bad," she said, getting ready to leave. "I actually liked it."