Disclaimer: Don't own them, promise to put them back after playing.
Part A: The trap
(Prologue)
Ootori Kyouya was sitting in the impressive chair, his back turned to the huge desk, nearly empty except for a phone, a few select Montblanc pens and a photograph of the family in whose name and tradition he now guided one of the largest economical conglomerates of Japan, and thus the world – economically speaking.
He was observing the endless blinking of lights of Tokyo, stretching out underneath his headquarters seemingly without end. On good days, he would see a glimpse of Fuji-San over the bustling city, but during the nights, the turbulence was swallowed in an unseemingly dream-like substance of dark, coulour and movement that made him feel as observing a strange forest growing out before his eyes.
The large room was empty except for a few carefully selected furnitures and works of art. The seats his opponents on the battlefield that was his desk had to take were selected to be just a hint lower than usual, representing the balance of power that was usually in his favour. The painting and sculptures were impressive, and rather cold and mysterious. This room wasn't designed to look friendly. Personally, he didn't care for it much, but he had to admit that the twins had outdone themselves when creating the perfect business area that would make anyone entering aware of the power that sat before them.
His personal workspace was way smaller, way simpler and a lot more personal – it was actually getting a bit cluttered. It could be entered through a door carefully hidden behind an expressionistic portrait of himself. Tamaki had once remarked that stepping through the door was like leaving behind Ootori Kyouya and stepping into Kyouya Ootori. He had only glared at that, but secretly appreciated that his oldest friend had immediately recognized the meaning of the room to him. It was Tamaki who had brought a lot of the furniture in the room from his travels over the world, having discovered the joys of flea-markets and international shipping. Kyouya didn't quite know where „he" was in an rather ancient, but comfortable sofa, but Tamaki had insisted.
Right now, he would really like to lounge on that sofa, going over business reports with a nice cup of sencha from a mug Haruhi had given him once - it had her father's new establishments label printed underneath and had a pleasant motive of sakura petals on simple clay ware. However, he had made a special appointment, one that wouldn't allow for him to show any weakness.
He had done it all – he had outshone his brothers when his time at university was faster and better used than they had managed, and he came out highly decorated, practically leaving his professors begging for him to stay and teach. He didn't have time for that – yet. He had remained in the role of the dutiful son, excelling at tasks, but never overstepping any boundaries of propriety. He had been lurking in the shadows, as usual, and had been waiting for his chance. It came, when he had saved his families empire when the economic circumstances changed and Yoshio Ootori hadn't been able to adapt. His father had never seen him coming, until it as too late and Kyouya had won. The Shadow King had come to take what always should have belonged to him.
The sound of the speaker system raised him from his mental preparation. „Sir, your appointment has arrived." "Thank you, Miss Tohru. Please send him in. There will be no need for you to wait - Have a good evening", he answered after having turned his seat to face the desk again. He had already made his secretary stay longer as usual with this late appointment, and there was no use keeping her around. He'd also rather not have witnesses for what was to follow.
A/N: This story will have about 8 chapters, and though I haven't finished it yet, I a) hope to be able to update quickly and b) decided to post this to see whether it rises interest. Feedback is very much appreciated!