The morning of the funeral was dreary. So unlike his life, that she couldn't help but giggle. He would greatly disapprove of the somber mood of the day, and had he been there voice his blatant disgust for the foul procession.
Even in death, she knew, he would be as flamboyant and extravagant as ever. The thought of her father and mother finally united after eight years brought a small smile to her face. He had changed after her death, as it had pained him to be without her. Yet he had managed to provide a home for her, his daughter, and she couldn't have asked for anything more.
As she looked around, she was surprised to see six men in extravagant suits entering the temple, all wearing solemn expressions. Her surprised expression changed to one of irritation when the tall blonde noticed her and ran over, weeping, assuring her that "Daddy is here, you can cry if you need to." Emotions welling up in her threatened to escape, and she ran off without a word.
By the time she had regained herself, the five other hosts had walked over to join their king, and the raven haired man was radiating an aura of pure evil as he spoke ever so calmly to the hysterical blonde, who was shouting something along the lines of "But mother, our daughter hates us!" She stood watching with but slight interest at the scene of chaos unfolding in front of her.
As the day progressed, she avoided the host club's attempts to talk to her. The disruptive behavior of the six mean caused several casualties throughout the day, further infuriating her. Many a time she was forced to choke back sobs as she pondered the inevitable. For once, it seemed, she had time, but certainly not enough, and certainly not for the right reasons.
She stayed silent throughout the day, all but ignoring the constant stream of people stopping to give her their condolences. Many of them she had never met, and had made the assumption that they were her father's lovers. Seeing them didn't phase her, like it would have so many other people. Having known from the beginning what her father did for a living, she supported him as fully as she could.
Of course, hearing someone else talk so fondly about her father, whom she barely knew, sent a short, acute pain through her chest. The pain, however, ebbed with each passing moment. Long after darkness had fallen and the stream of visitors had stopped, she finally allowed herself to fully mourn the loss of her father. The tears rolled down her delicate skin and she sat there, unaware that she was being watched.
Kyoya succeeded in making everyone around him as miserable as he was. He was at a loss; something that had been unheard of before he met her. Tamaki had shown up several times throughout the weekend, wanting to go 'cheer up their daughter', and in the end Kyoya had been out of patience and had Tamaki forcibly removed from the premises.
When he arrived at Ouran the next morning, he was more than surprised to see Haruhi, wearing the signature girl's uniform: a rather disgusting yellow gown. He felt a dull thud in his chest when he looked at her, and quickly made his way to the music room.
A/N: I'm at a complete loss as to what I should do next. Also, I'm sorry for my very late update to this story. I've been so busy trying to get caught up with schoolwork.
I'm contemplating either her being adopted by the Hitachiin's or living with her grandparents. I'm open to any and all suggestions concerning this story.