Title: Safe
Series: Ouran High School Host Club
Pairing: Mori/Haruhi
Rating: M (adult content, violence)
Summary: Mori comes to a realization much too quickly, but entirely too late. All that's left is to piece together the aftermath and reassure her that she's...
Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club, nor any of the innumerable characters and content therein. I am making no profit from this jumble of words.
..Safe : Chapter 2..
Mori had truly thought she'd left him behind. Her vital signs had begun to flag as they'd flown towards the hospital, and after their arrival they'd raced through the hallways, running full speed while pushing her gurney ahead of them. He'd been shoved out of the operating theater and told to go to a waiting room, but instead he'd lingered outside the doors in a desperate attempt to know what was happening to her outside his care.
As he waited, the other hosts had arrived at the hospital. He'd known by their shouts that echoed down the hallway, and the look on Kyoya's face as he speedily walked towards him after pushing past his personal guards that blocked the entrance to the corridor from the room containing the loud men. The stony faced Ootori merely nodded to him before pushing the doors open, revealing the drifting sounds of warning klaxons before they slammed shut as the older man paced outside the cordoned off operating room. After Kyoya had slipped inside, he'd heard yelling.
Dangerous words. Words that had him calculating the distance to the nearest temple or dojo and how fast he could have his immaculately sharpened tanto driven over to him from home. Words that had him reciting the death poetry of shamed samurai in his head. The guilt of his actions, his lack of response when she had been thrown into danger, finally descended upon him like the weight of an avalanche on his shoulders.
He'd clutched at the wall, legs sagging under the burden of it all.
She could actually put a finger on the first time she'd realized that Mori was... well, Mori. It was about the same time that she'd begun to slowly understand how he operated emotionally. Separated from Hani, whom he was obviously overly concerned for to the detriment of his own safety, he had been all too easy to disassemble. It had become immediately evident that the teen relied on his childlike cousin's companionship as much for day to day normalcy in as much as Hani did Mori's servitude. It was give and take.
And when she'd followed Mori into the forest as he chased after his instincts, she began to understand why he'd been cast into the role he had been in the host club as well. At first it just hadn't made any sense. What was so wild about Mori? In many respects he was an example of the perfect Japanese male, honor driven and spare with his meaningful speech. Then she'd thought it had something to do with his family background, the servile status of his clan in comparison to the more noble lines that graced the halls of Ouran with their presence. In the end, it seemed to be bit of many different qualities including his instinctual physical prowess as well as his family ties.
When he'd first spoken her name - and just her name without any honorifics - in low rumbling tones so deep that she could actually feel them vibrating out from his chest as he'd held her, she'd been just a little bit pleased. And later on when they were attacked by men with machine guns and he'd still refused to let her go from his arms, her heart had raced in her chest at his decision to protect her against such odds. It was the first time she'd begun to see past the mask he'd so readily accepted as his lot in life. It had only been the beginning.
An hour passed by. Then two. Eventually he'd lost track, sitting down on the hard tiled floor, back against the eerily white wall. He'd stared up into the fluorescent lighting as if it had the answers to his questions. He prayed, meditating as sutras floated through his string of consciousness. He waited.
Kyoya finally emerged carrying a medical chart, shirt askew under his jacket as he'd obviously unbuttoned the collar for comfort. His face was grim. Mori gripped the tile under his hands, willing him to give only good news.
It wasn't.
"She's made it through. But the knife penetrated several of her major organs; it punctured a lung, her liver and opened up a small portion of her large intestine. Her recovery will be slow.. and because of the bowel perforation she'll be prone to secondary infection. There's a relatively good chance that she could become severely ill from an internal infection during recovery because of it."
He paused, pushing his glasses up by the bridge as he flipped over some paperwork on the chart, obviously buying himself some time as he collected himself emotionally. It was odd to see the normally cold man so disconcerted.
"She'll also be in a great deal of pain. It's.. it's not an ideal area to have disturbed surgically and it will be debilitating while she heals. Someone will have to monitor her once she's released from the hospital to keep her from overexerting herself or pulling her stitches. It's.. Haruhi."
Mori closed his eyes, allowing the information to settle through his filters, before he slowly stood up to face Kyoya. Even sitting down as he was before he towered over the younger man but his current position of standing straight and so close to Kyoya on purpose it was nearly a threat conveyed through body language, eyes hard and face stoney as ever. He knew his expression was intimidating; it was meant to be intimidating. It was something he'd perfected over the years.
Kyoya flinched.
Mori made certain to keep his voice low, his intonation eerily devoid of any emotion. "She'll stay with me. I'm sure her father will allow me to oversee her care after I speak with him."
Kyoya swallowed, nodding.
"Is he here now?"
"He's in the waiting room with the others." Kyoya flipped the chart shut, glasses shading his eyes as he straightened his spine. "So, Mori-senpai."
The kendoist merely looked him in the eyes as a response.
"The paramedics intake report tells me she was admitted as your fiancé." He received no response to the non-question. "When, before or after she was stabbed, did you have the time to pop the question?"
It was a cruel question to bate him with, but Kyoya had never been accused of being a soft touch. It had been an infuriating detail on an already horrible series of events that had disturbed his planning for the rest of the year if not his entire life, and the younger man wasn't inclined to let it go.
He'd held Mori's gaze, and he watched something come over the older boy's eyes as he finished his sentence that he'd only seen a handful of times over the years. And it made him take a step back.
"Your cellphone. Kyoya."
The third Ootori son handed the man his cellphone, standing back to appraise the operating room doors. Even he knew when to make a tactical retreat.
She'd known he cared, or at least, truly felt that she was his friend. Mori had a tendency to ignore his surroundings if they were unimportant to his worldview, people included. It was why the girls who designated Mori didn't expect conversation, their heads were filled with it already. He was a blank slate for them to project their fantasies onto. Half the time he seemed to let the conversation float over him, barely even nodding to let them know he was listening, entirely focused on Hani or the others.
It was the little things.
He'd pick up the cups for her at the end of the day, and one day she came in to find that an entire shelf in the storeroom had been rearranged so that the heaviest tea items were moved to lower shelves. Just the day before she'd nearly fallen off a step-stool under the weight of an antique marble tray, something all the hosts had fussed over but she'd brushed off easily enough. She'd had her suspicions, until she noticed him hovering by the door, gauging her height against the cabinets of the tall sideboard before he'd simply turned and walked away.
Mori always saved the choicest bits of food for her. He seemed to always pick up on her likes and dislikes; he'd been the first to realize her small obsession with good food and capitalize on it. But he was also generous in that respect. At every picnic or banquet she inevitably found plates full of her favorite foods at her fingertips, and no one but Mori to look to for the thoughtful care to her palate.
Of all the hosts, he seemed to be the only one who did things selflessly for her. There was no benefit to his actions, no strings attached. His simple regard was something that Haruhi truly treasured on days when she felt like a lamb amongst wolves.
As usual, she had been blamed for a monetary loss to club funds simply by being present when the perpetual whirlwind of trouble that the twins embodied decided to harass their fearful leader. Haruhi could only glare at Kyoya, the light glinting off his glasses taking nothing away from his scheming aura as he quickly recorded the increase in her debt. The twins had wrapped themselves around her, disturbing Tamaki away from his designees, who then began to play tug of war between all three of them with Haruhi as the rope. It was infuriating. She'd been shouting at them for a good two minutes, and now she was starting to get a little more than annoyed at the situation than usual.
"For the last time, I said let go!"
She was completely ignored, all three men too caught up in their banter with little concern as to their stretching of her limbs. She'd dug into the floor, trying to leverage her way out from between them, but it was no use. Kaoru held fast to one arm, Hikaru to the other, and Tamaki was yanking painfully against her middle as his fingers dug into her stomach for purchase. Hikaru twisted to have both hands around her bicep, and as he went to grip her more tightly his hands wrenched her flesh in opposite directions. She gulped in a breath, tears nearly welling up as Tamaki tried to rip those same fingers off of her, only worsening the painful burning sensation. She'd had enough.
"Mori-senpai!"
Suddenly they were shoved back, or she was pulled forward, she wasn't sure which. And when she blinked, she found herself gently being set down on her own two feet, well away from the three boys who had been shocked into silence by the hosts actions.
"Umm, Mori-senpai, you didn't need to go so far away." It was Tamaki who spoke up first, oblivious to the sharp expression that Haruhi saw on his face as he turned away from her, slowly letting his hands fall away from her sides.
"You were hurting her."
Tamaki gaped at him after the unexpected comment, then stumbled away to hunch over his knees in a corner in obvious misery. The twins rolled their eyes, moving to sit back down by themselves.
Haruhi let out a sigh of relief. When Mori turned back to her, although it was impossible to tell for sure from his blank expression, she somehow felt frustration rolling off of him in waves as she studied the tense muscles around his eyes. She rolled her shoulder experimentally, rubbing at the bruised skin underneath the thick jacket. Bending over, she began to pick up the shards of the expensive tea cup and saucer she'd dropped after the twins had manhandled her while she was trying to clean up by clearing them away, careful of the sharp edges of the porcelain. She winced as she rose, side protesting against the straining skin where Tamaki had clawed at her. Slightly more damage than usual, but not unexpected.
"Haruhi." Her name, just her name in that deep voice he shouldn't have had at their age. She swallowed, tilting her head up to meet his seemingly concerned grey eyes from their set a fair distance above her. "Are you alright?"
"Yes. Thank you, Mori-senpai."
Then he merely nodded, moving to fetch a broom and dustpan. Mori confused her, with his contradictory actions and manners that didn't match his station in life. But Haruhi was nevertheless glad that when the wolves pounced, she knew she could always call on him to help.
There was blowback, as he knew there would be. Hikaru had stormed out of the hospital, disappearing for several hours, and Tamaki had been inconsolable. The blond Frenchman had raged at Mori, shouting his disapproval before dissolving into a genuine fit of tears that did nothing to sway Mori's resolve. It had taken Hani, of all people, to shut him up.
"You will sit down and you will listen to what I have to say." Mitsukuni Haninozuka could be a frightening creature if he wanted to be, and the look on his petite features did little to inspire Tamaki to do anything but sit down so better to cower towards the back of the somewhat frayed looking waiting room couch. It matched all of their tempers after five hours of surgery and over an hour of arguing amongst themselves about her postoperative care.
"My cousin, the only one out of us responsible enough - just admit it to yourselves - to take care of her, has already hired a staff of nurses and a waiting physician to help when he isn't able to. Do not tell me that this man," here he pointed at Mori, standing motionless in the corner throughout the entire ordeal, "Who didn't shed a tear while she was bleeding out, is less qualified than the person who throws a tantrum at realizing he's been left behind romantically. Grow up Tamaki. This isn't about you."
Kaoru had dissolved into laughter at the Suoh heirs dismayed expression, immediately followed by his shocked looking brother, breaking the tension that filled the air as the rest of the room suddenly relaxed at the ultimatum. Ranka was absent, having been the first to be admitted to the ICU unit that housed the host club princess. They were all waiting their turns, if impatiently.
"Mori-senpai..." Tamaki looked up from his lap, where his gaze had been situated for the few tense minutes of silence before Hani had lost his composure. "If you don't take care of her properly, I'll-"
"I won't allow any harm to come to her."
"This time." Added on Hikaru, who still hadn't decided to forgive the older man his transgressions. Tension filled the room again, this time nearly worse than the cacophonous yelling before.
Ranka stepped into the room, disheveled and swollen eyed. "Morinozuka-san."
Mori straightened, bowing towards Haruhi's father in honorable deference.
"She's asking for you."
There were of course small instances when her own heart was moved by his actions. She'd hated herself at those times. She wasn't free to allow herself to be attracted to any of the host club, but especially her seniors. They were stars very far beyond her reach, and she told herself time and time again it was an exercise in futility to look at any of them as anything in relation to her, let alone the thought of nurturing a romantic interest towards one of them in particular. Haruhi had thought that they'd eventually tire of her novelty and that would be the end of her small peek into their world. Sometimes, though, she'd slip.
Like every time she found Mori lurking around corners between her classes. He'd sniff out the dissent before she even saw it coming. Not every male at Ouran was as forgiving of the hosts entertaining their women as Tohru-san had been.
"Stupid motherless freak. Go back to where you belong."
That had actually hurt. Surprisingly, she recognized him; one Shincaru Mishimoto, engaged to one of her newer customers, a Miss Akane Hayate. The slight against her pedigree hadn't bothered her in the least, she was long past caring what rich people thought of 'commoners' such as herself. However, the remark about her mother did smart. It was something she'd heard several times over the years though, and she let the words roll off her back. Sighing, she moved to step around the irate young man. She couldn't afford to be late for class.
She didn't even notice his fist coming towards her face until Mori had already caught it with his own. The sound of her senpai's briefcase hitting the floor, books and pens clattering across the hallway as it fell open, was nearly deafening in the silence left after the loud smack of his intercepting palm to Mishimoto's fist. He shrugged Shincaru out of his grip fluidly, moving to pin the other boy up against the wall by his shirt with a speed that left her breathless.
"Leave Haruhi alone."
He let go. Mishimoto fled as if demons were licking at his heels, never to bother her again. Mori tilted his head towards her in his version of a bow, humming slightly before moving to pick up his things. She dropped to her knees, scrambling to help if not to collect her own scattered emotions. Their hands met as they both reached for the same book, and she had to stop herself from gasping at the shock of his touch. He paused, waiting for her to hand him the book, taking it from her with careful hands as they both stood up.
"Thank you Mori-senpai." She bowed deeply as he nodded again before walking away, leaving her reeling with tremors she didn't fully understand.
She was so white against the sheets, her dark hair matted back from her brow, that he thought she'd be lost amongst them if a pillow went astray. He hesitated in the doorway, stopping to stare at her from a distance as he wondered what to say. In the end, Haruhi ended up crooking a finger at him to break the silence.
"Help me get this mask off." He hesitated once again, looking towards the nurse who'd been attending her in askance.
"She should be fine for a few minutes. It is difficult to hear her with it on." The older looking nurse shrugged, leaning in to help Mori situate her as they eased the elastic from her face. "If you need me, I'll be right around the corner." The woman excused herself, bowing before leaving the two leave to speak in privacy.
"How are you feeling?" It was such an inadequate question that he nearly stood up and left for shame.
"Much better, thank you, Mori-senpai."
Oh God. What if?
"Takashi." He looked at her more fully, gauging her reaction.
"Right." She blushed, and something welled up within him for courage.
"Haruhi." He looked straight into her eyes, with a stare so unnervingly certain that Haruhi couldn't help be drawn into his clear grey gaze. Then his face dropped to stare at the floor as if he wished it would swallow him whole.
"Yes, Takashi?" She smiled slightly at his pause for her prompt.
"Can you forgive me?" Mori's face was shuttered, as if even giving voice to his guilt was painful. Haruhi's heart clenched at the sight of his self loathing. The man truly blamed himself for her wounds.
"I put myself in that situation, and I knew what might happen. There isn't anything to forgive."
He lifted his head to stare into her eyes once again, before shaking his head, eyes closed. His hands dropped lifelessly from the chair as he leaned back. "I was distracted."
"It's not your fault." Her voice was light, but laced with steel as his eyes, just as iced, shot up to meet hers with a snap.
"My eyes were on Hani. They should have been on you." His already deep pitch was laced with gravel, body stiffening. "I swore to myself you would never come to harm under my care." Once she'd been tossed off a cliff, or covered in paint, and then their friend had seen.. but that didn't really count for much by comparison however much he'd wanted to bash the vision out of the yakuza heir's skull.
Haruhi's breath caught, her hand reaching out to him as his hand intercepted hers without his eyes ever leaving her gaze.
"I'm alive because of you, Takashi." His fingers trembled around her own. "We're all aware that you have certain responsibilities."
"Let me rectify that."
Haruhi looked confused, and he steeled himself for what was to come.
"Will you do me the honor of joining my family?" Mori paused, before drawing a deep breath to continue. "Promise to stay by my side, always." He'd slipped out of the chair to kneel next to the bed, still towering over her as he held her hand in his now tight grip. His entire body had tensed, and Haruhi could practically feel the terror radiating off of his form. It was much like the stillness before he'd pounced on Hani at the thought of a cavity, thought Haruhi somewhat bemusedly.
"I thought we were already engaged." Haruhi deadpanned her mirthful retort, causing Mori to dip in lower over her on the bed in a deflated rebuttal. She fought back laughter at his half begrudgingly penitent expression.
"Hn."
"I thought as much."
"Haruhi," he grunted.
"Takashi," she teased back.
"Marry me, Haruhi." His lips hovered over her own, teasing her without words as she sighed against his mouth. One hand still remained gripped against hers, his other pinned next to her on the pillow as his body covered her own with ease, as close as he dared while firmly holding himself above her for fear of putting pressure on her wound. She could feel his restraint in every muscle as his chest rippled against her own, body taught as he waited for her response.
She smiled. "Yes."
She felt his entire body relax as her own blood sped up at the sight of his soft smile. Carefully, mindful of her infirmity, his head drew close to hers. They met, a simple brush of skin against skin even as Haruhi's lips parted and Mori's heart raced in his chest. Wishing otherwise, he withdrew before the kiss turned heated, giving her a smile so serene that her breath caught. He leaned in, chastely dragging his lips against hers once more before moving to place the oxygen mask back to her slowly waning countenance. Her breath had become labored, and Mori wouldn't take any chances even as her brow wrinkled at his actions.
Haruhi's hair was even worse off than it had been before, much to Mori's displeasure. He thought to himself to ask the nurse if he could wash it for her. Rough hands tenderly brushed her bangs back behind an ear, moving to straighten the fly-away strands as she fought against the pain medication that began to slowly course through her veins. The timed dose had come sooner than Mori thought possible, but a quick glance to the clock showed that he'd lost track of everything outside of their conversation, with good reason. He sighed.
"Go to sleep."
"Will you stay here with me?" Her eyes were half mast, her grip slackening as he watched her daze into a pain medication induced lull. He looked down at his shirt, covered in her blood, and pushed back against the shame and guilt that still engulfed his soul. He'd have clothes brought from home so he could change later, after the others had left and she was fully asleep.
"Ah."
Sometimes it wasn't entirely Mori's actions that tumbled them into awkward moments.
It was just one of those days where Mori was upset by something Hani had done, and his concentration was paying the price for it. Earlier in the day he'd made the mistake of overhearing his charges plans for university, which started him thinking about what he would do in the future at university. It was always very simple to divine when the older boy was ill at ease, as everything he touched seemed to suffer from his chronically absentminded clumsiness.
They were dressed to match their hobbies, and so he sat cross legged outside in his hakama complete with bogu, his helmet beside him. His hands were awkwardly cradling a cup of tea that one of his designations had handed to him while he still wore his kote guards, and as he brought the cup to his lips the boiling water spilled onto his uncovered feet. He slipped, letting out an irritated hiss at the contact.
Hani wailed, burying his face in his bunny at his reaction, drawing the rest of the clubs attention immediately.
"Oh!" Haruhi, toting a tray nearby, set it down to rush over with a tea towel. "Are you alright?" She began to dab at his reddened ankle, unknowingly pushing up the stiff fabric of his hakama further up his leg to better see the slight burn. Mori stiffened, breathing in deeply as her hands gently wiped at his aching skin. It was at that exact moment that it occurred to him that he hadn't remembered to wear any undergarments.
The shock of the inappropriateness of that thought thought combined with Haruhi's ministrations sent his cup tumbling out of his grip entirely, splashing to land directly in his lap. He nearly hyperventilated, body listing off to one side as she knelt before him, towel in hand. Oh God. He froze entirely, not knowing whether to weep tears of pain or shame. All prior preoccupation with Hani's future planning melted away in a glorious, if horrifyingly embarrassing moment.
He choked, attempting to allay the distress in her face. "Ah."
Haruhi sat, poised, with the towel in one hand with a rather curious look in her eyes as she gripped the rough fabric of his hakama. One of the girls tittered. Then Hani, wiping away his crocodile tears, cleared his throat loudly. The young woman dressed as a male cook let go of his pantleg, and suddenly Mori could breath again.
"You know, Takashi, I think that my karate uniform is a little hot today. Maybe I'll take off my undershirt!" The women who surrounded him swooned at the completely random interjection, and Hani smiled cutely at the both of them as Haruhi and Mori twitched in near unison. "Lets go get some ointment and fix your leg up while I change, ne?"
Hani walked him to the changing room, pinning him with an amused grin. "What was all that about?"
Mori shook, stuttering as never before. "Haruhi.. towel... no fundoshi.."
Hani burst into laughter, eventually doubling over so hard that he cried tears of mirth before moving to roll on the floor in uncontrollable laughter, and the kendoist could only sigh in response. Turning away, Mori slowly composed himself as he dug through his set of drawers for a pair of boxers to set his mind at ease.
True to form, Kyoya had been entirely correct. The next day, much to the dismay of her team of physicians, Haruhi became violently ill. Theoretically it was an easily treatable infection, eradicated with a simple course of antibiotics, but in her weakened state from the surgery, her health would be slow in recovering. Throughout the day and then the night she remained heavily sedated, which only gave him leave to attend matters which had been otherwise left to his cousin.
"Mitsukuni." He sat where had been for the past forty-eight hours, hunched over her bed in a chair, refusing to leave for food or hellfire. The nurses had taken pity on him, installing a cot that barely accommodated his tall form.
Hani sniffled, moving to situate Usa-chan further under the sheets within Haruhi's grasp.
"Just tell me." The giant of a man was stock still, frame rigid as he waited for confirmation.
"I caught the one with the bag of cash first. He's... alive." The implications were obvious. "The other is being taken care of by Kasanoda's people."
Mori blinked, turning to look at his cousin for confirmation. The older boy shrugged, eyes hard before he smoothed the sheets on her still body with care. It wasn't entirely unexpected, but Mori was still taken aback by his cousins lack of restraint. He turned an eye down on his brother at heart, waiting for further explanation. Hani turned the question back on him instead.
"What would you have done, Takashi?"
Steel eyes focused on a distant horizon, hardening to a sharpened point that Hani had seen many times in many areas of the world during military excursions. His gentle friend transforming into a well honed blade.
"The same."
Mori lifted her hand, pressing it against his lips before moving to take the food that Hani had brought for his lunch that day.
"What are you going to tell her?"
The taller boy paused, shaking his head slightly. It was a long moment before he gathered his thoughts enough to give an answer to the troubling question.
"What she needs to know." In other words, not a damn thing. Hani shifted as he felt the air in the room shift, and he trained his eyes on his cousins bleak expression, before the taller man hesitantly posed the what his smaller cousin knew dwelt behind his morose contemplation. "I'll never forgive myself if.."
"Don't even think it," interjected Hani, sharply.
Mori wasn't the only person who had been devastated by her state of health.
After the incident with Arai at Misuzu's pension she'd been shocked into being more attentive to the feelings of the men who surrounded her. Haruhi had been completely oblivious to anyone with romantic intentions towards her, it had just never occurred to her that anyone would think such thoughts towards her in the first place. It was entirely beyond her experience.
So she'd slowly been attempting to gauge not only her own feelings on such matters, but reaching out with her rather paltry observation skills to try and evaluate her friendships with the men currently in her life. It was confusing and made her paranoid of every little thing her friends did for her. Not that she didn't already get angry at their self important interventions, but the new and slightly more driven reasoning that she now projected onto every instance in terms of motivation made their actions all the more terrifying.
And frustrating. The situation seemed to bleed into every facet of her life, including her one escape: academia. She was taking a European literature class, and they were doing a unit on romantic poetry. It was exactly the type of material she really didn't need to be dwelling on for the time being. She felt like one gigantic ball of emotions waiting to burst, and she'd had to sit through several class periods trying desperately to calm her burning cheeks at reading the flowery prose they'd been assigned. The twins had been merciless in their teasing, which hadn't helped at all.
Now she was having to do her own research on the subject outside of class, and she entered the library with all the exuberance of a patient gearing themselves up for a tooth extraction. She had to pick three poems that hadn't been featured in their class material to present in a paper later on in the week, and despite her trepidation, she wanted to finish the project sooner rather than later. So that was how she found herself teetering on a ladder, attempting to reach one of the books she'd decided to check out after a bit of research.
It was just beyond her reach, and she shakily let go of one of the rails to lean further out to brush it's spine with her fingertips. Her stomach dropped to the floor as she felt the entire rig lurch, and she very nearly shrieked when she felt a large hand against her back steady her from falling.
"Maybe try this one instead." The voice was too deep to be anyone but him.
He reached over her head, body pressing her own into the bookshelf, her heart racing at the unexpected contact. Mori thumbed across the titles before drawing one out of the stacks to shove into a pocket, pausing slightly before moving back to pluck her from her perch, settling her back onto solid ground. Reaching out, he pressed the retrieved book into her hands, locking eyes with hers in an expression that Haruhi was completely unable to categorize from memory.
"Thank you," she murmured, out of reflex. Haruhi looked down at the book, quickly reading it's title. It wasn't familiar to her memory from class discussions, but the author was.
Mori nodded without saying a word, moving back with another book in hand to a table across from her own in the large library, sitting back down next to Hani. She watched, mystified, as he pretended to read his book. Haruhi knew he was pretending because he held himself upright, hands outstretched instead of hunching over to devour the text like he normally did.
She opened the book aimlessly, beginning at a passage midway through the compilations offerings. It's sensuality nearly jumped off the page. Reading on, Haruhi felt a blush begin to flame from the rather descriptive language, and she peaked over the book to Mori's table. His eyes were decidedly not on the volume he held, but rather locked onto her slowly reddening throat where her suffocating tie had been jostled by her fingers earlier in the hour. Something began to flicker in his eyes as her breathing sped up, and as if he felt her questioning eyes on him without ever looking up to her face, his gaze suddenly snapped back to his book so quickly that she later thought she'd been imagining the entire exchange.
And then Haruhi began to wonder.
"Mori!"
He threw himself violently out of the chair, whipping around to look for the threat; the room was empty.
"Takashi!"
She wailed thinly against protesting lungs, reaching out towards him and then he realized, stumbling forward to take her hand into a palm as he grasped her cheek with the other. She stared back at him from sleep bruised eyes in a haze, lost in herself.
"I'm here."
She frowned, gulping air dangerously from beneath her oxygen mask as he shook with painful rage at the entire situation. He wanted to crawl into the bed with her, to wrap himself around her so she could know that he wouldn't ever leave, but he was too afraid of dislodging something important from her skin. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his forehead to her own so all she could see was him.
"Haruhi-koi," her hand tightened in his own, eyes fixing onto his own. "I'm here. I'm right here."
"They took me away." His throat tightened. "I didn't want to go," tears began to drip down her face and in his sleepy discomposure he couldn't step himself from letting the words slip out.
"I won't let you go." He shuddered, unwilling to cave. He hadn't truly cried since he was a boy, and her continued survival wasn't supposed to be an event for bitter tears. "I love you." His voice shook, hands gripping harder at her now slackening digits. "You promised to stay by my side."
She had been so ill, so sick that at times it seemed like she would leave him behind despite everything the doctors told him. At the last he was nearly begging, but he no longer cared if the night nurses heard him. He would brave much worse than humbling himself if it meant keeping her next to him.
Outside it was raining, and he prayed for it to stop. One day he would be able to ease her against the fear of thunder, but now wasn't the time to break her of that phobia. It must have filtered into her dreams, and he wondered what kind of phantoms had stalked her before he'd been jostled awake by her cries.
It was the things that he couldn't flex his will against that truly terrified him, the wounds that he couldn't heal in her soul and the sickness in her body that was beyond his power to fight against with his bare hands. It was times like these that, despite all of his training and strength of will, he felt truly helpless in the dead of the night. His father had once told him that it was what made him a man rather than a boy. The capability to realize that one could not conquer all, and that the willingness within him to fear that fact was maturity beyond his years.
The realization did little to calm his heart as he tried to lull her back to sleep, praying that the storm would be brief in every sense of the word.
At their second New Years together, Mori had unexpectedly bought her an omamori. That year, unlike every other before, she hadn't burned her charm after the turn of the seasons as tradition intended. She'd tucked the study aid away in her school bag instead, allowing it to live on out of sight. She wasn't a sentimental person by nature, but, some things were hard not to attach meaning to.
At their third New Years together, she hardly blinked when he presented her with another. Something seemed different about the charm this time though, the silk was soft against her fingers and it was an entirely different color than the rest of the batch she'd seen laid out. They must have ran out of her version already, which seemed odd to her since she could have sworn she'd watched him buy it only minutes ago from a very elderly looking priestess who she'd only seen a handful of times at the shrine. And she'd looked through the booth before then, and hadn't seen any like it. It was odd.
She'd accepted it graciously, tucking it into her obi as she intently looked over their offerings once more before hesitating. Cautiously looking behind her, she made sure he was well distracted by Hani before she made her move. It was all of her pocket money for the entire month, but this time she had come prepared. She quickly made her selection, picking up the one she'd been eyeballing the entire time, nearly dumping her entire change-purse onto the counter in her rush to buy it before he noticed. The woman, who to her memory had retired her duties to her daughter and granddaughter, smiled toothlessly at her.
"I'll take this one please."
"Is it for him?" Her grin had turned knowing. But Haruhi was confused.
"For who?"
"Your young man."
She was still confused. "I don't have a young man, ma'am." She was polite, but let her puzzlement bleed through.
"Hmm? The one who bought yer charm, young lady?"
"Oh. He's just a friend. But yes, it is for him." She risked a peek over her shoulder, taking in Mori as he leaned against a tree in obvious discomfort. He'd taken a rather inopportune strike to the knee during a sparring session a week ago from a much younger trainee, and he was still favoring his left leg. Mori suited traditional clothes, and even in the crowd mixed with people dressed for another age, he stood out. His dark blue haori glinted in the lamplight as he shifted, and she had to tear her eyes away for fear he'd caught her staring. It was supposed to be a surprise.
When she looked back, the old woman was bowing over the counter, omamori between her palms as she prayed. Haruhi could only bow with her, wondering what was going on, waiting for the woman to finish her impromptu ceremony. She straightened as the priestess did, and took the omamori from her hands as it was offered to her. More confusion.
"Thanks."
"He needs a bit more help, I think. A little extra boost can't hurt."
Haruhi blinked, looking at the charm, before shrugging. "Oh. Thank you."
The elderly woman snickered, turning away as her daughter patted her on the shoulder to let her know she was taking over the booth. Haruhi bowed deeply as the woman waddled away. She looked down at the charm, turning it over in her hands, before moving to rejoin her friends.
When she turned around, she smacked solidly into a brick wall made of flesh. Mori grunted, his only concession to the blinding pain of his knee as he bent to support her entire weight lest she topple from her tall zori. She stumbled, ankle buckling as the strap of one sandal gave way under the sudden strain, and he tightened his grip. He held her firmly against his chest, arms wrapped under her own, his haori falling in a curtain around them.
Distracted by the sensation of his fingers accidentally slipping into the vents of her sleeves, she dropped the omamori. For a moment he simply held her, arms taught, before he walked slowly to a nearby bench, depositing her gingerly down, staring at her as she started protesting his help with an expression that could have dried paint. He looked at her white tabi once, before slowly limping back to pick up her broken footwear. He returned with her sandal in one hand, onamori in the other. When he went to hand back the charm, she shook her head.
"It's for you."
He searched her face before looking down at the charm. The kanji was for health. He forced himself to swallow, bowing as he placed the charm into his sleeve. Closing his eyes for a half second, he let the weight of the small charm in his makeshift pocket settle the butterflies in his stomach. She had worried for him.
"Thank you."
Slowly he pulled out the charm, as if on second thought, threading the string carefully around the cord of the lacquered inro that he'd tucked into his obi that day. And then she began to yell at him as he tore an enormous strip out of the lining of that same very fine, very expensive haori with which to fix her broken hanao strap.
He watched, worriedly, as she began to lift the soup spoon to her mouth. His hands twitched around his own chopsticks, wanting to drop them and grab the food from her to ladle it into her himself. The soup was piping hot, and Mori was worried that with her poor reflexes she would burn herself.
"Don't even think about it."
Mori grunted, tucking into his own food, all the while with one watchful eye trained on her slow moving and unsteady fingers. To his own mind, he allowed her the allusion of self sufficiency. He'd never be willing to voice such a thought out loud to her though. She'd probably Usa-chan kick him into the pond outside her hospital room window. Haruhi had been moved out of the ICU and into a rehabilitation ward, with only a day or two to go before her release. It was going to be much simpler when he had her ensconced in the room set up at his home so he could take care of her as he wished. He was overjoyed with her progress, and excited.
With the small exception that he hadn't yet told her that he'd conspired with her father for the allowance to keep her at the Morinozuka compound. Yet, hadn't told her yet. He shifted in his seat, and Haruhi set down her spoon on the bed table before pinning him with a hard stare. It didn't bode well for him. She continued to stare at him as he stared back, shoveling rice into his mouth with graceful swipes of his chopsticks.
"You're up to something." He felt sweat bead on his forehead. "I expect this out of Tamaki, but not you Takashi." He cringed internally, outwardly forgoing any expression as he set aside his bowl to lace his fingers with her own.
"You will be released soon." It was a start.
"Yes?" He cupped her hand with his other palm, thumb moving in circles to soothe her.
"I have asked your father to allow me to take you to my home for the duration of your recovery."
"That's unnecessary, Takashi, I don't-" Her face said it all, so he forced himself to interrupt her despite the mental fetters that told him it was horrifically rude and coarse.
"Yes it is. For my peace of mind." She quieted. "I need to know that you are safe. I'll have nurses on call, and the staff can be with you when I am unable to. Your father has work, and it would be ungentlemanly for me to stay at your apartment with you alone. I have no wish to shame you in the eyes of others, and you will not be left without help until you are fully healed." His voice was low as usual, but brooked little allowance for her to reject his demands. She hesitated. "Allow me this, Haruhi."
"I just don't see why it would be shameful for you to stay with me at the apartment and it somehow not by my invading your parent's home."
Before the words had even settled off her lips, the floating tray that had been wheeled over her bed was pushed out of the way and his lips were on hers, mouth tenderly devouring her as one hand crooked up her thigh past her nightgown. Her heart monitor exploded, and she felt her entire body light up into flames as he gently pressed her into the mattress. And then his touch was gone.
A nurse tumbled into the room at a dead run less than a second later, quickly checking her vitals before breaking out an ice pack to press to her flushed face. Mori sat as he was when the nurse had entered the room, completely composed in the chair he'd been sitting in earlier by a small table in the far corner of the room. Haruhi could only send him a bewildered glare as the nurse fussed over her slight fever before leaving to talk to the attending physician.
"Because when I'm alone with you, everyone will think that is what we are doing."
She'd only ever heard him speak this much about Hani and fighting. She shook her head, eyes rolling skyward as she pressed the icepack against her throat. It was rather hot in the room after all.
"Why does it matter what other people think if it's not true?"
Mori shot her an unreadable look. "Haruhi-koi."
"Yes, Ta-ka-shi."
He moved to stand over her, taking her hand to press it to his chest. Underneath his thin t-shirt, she could feel his heart racing as fast as hers had been. Then he moved it downwards, to press lightly against the tent below his belt buckle. He'd instantly let go of her hand as her fingers twitched, face ablaze despite his carefully schooled features.
"Oh."
He grumbled, moving to painfully sit back down, intent on finishing his dinner.
"Hani-senpai! Mori-senpai!" Gingerly pushing open the door, she leaned out to peer around the taller boy suspiciously. She nearly cried from the relief as she surveyed the empty space behind them and the lack of chauffeurs. They were alone. "Uhmm.. Why are you here?"
"We wanted to take you out to a new restaurant Mori found!" Hani danced around Haruhi as she stood, confused, on the cement stoop outside her apartment door. Mori merely nodded, severe face unbending despite the flowery excitement of his cousin.
"But, why?"
Mori shrugged.
Haruhi sighed, leaning back until she found the doorjamb wearily. But... she narrowed her eyes, thinking they were playing tricks on her. Was he blushing? Impossible. Almost imperceptibly, she noticed that Mori had reddened cheeks. He must have been out in the sun too long again.
"You should really wear sunscreen, Mori-senpai." He looked at her questioningly. "You're looking a little pink today. Repeated sunburn causes skin cancer."
"Ah." Huh. Even his voice sounded off, as if he'd swallowed something the wrong way. Maybe he'd been training outside too long? She'd once seen Mori bite dirt so hard she'd thought he'd lost teeth, but that was during his pre-university match with Hani. Maybe they had trained together the day before? Mori's eyes were staring fixedly at something behind her head. Did she leave something on the stove? All thoughts were derailed as Hani began to tug on her arm.
"Haru-Haru!"
"Yes, senpai."
He pouted.
"Yes, Hani-senpai." Hani sighed, tears in his eyes, and Haruhi couldn't help but give in to his adorable act. "Yes, Mitsukuni."
Even his smile gave her cavities. Nekozawa-senpai would have combusted into a black ball of sheer terror at the megawatts generated. And, did he seem taller? She blinked, checking his height against the railing he'd leaned against. Hani was nearly the same height as she was. Haruhi shivered.
He rocked back and forth on his heels. "Guess what?"
"What."
"Takashi won nationals again! Isn't that wonderful?"
"Mitsukuni." Mori's face was expressionless, but he practically radiated discomfort at Hani having imparted the information to their unwilling dinner guest.
"Congratulations, Mori-senpai!"
He nodded, and then slowly understanding dawned on Haruhi. She watched him closely, slowly smiling at him with a genuine warmth that she didn't need to fake in the slightest.
"We should celebrate."
This time his voice was steady, and his eyes lit happily into her own.
"Ah."
So they did. Together.
He was startled awake by a hand on his shoulders, and a glance up revealed his fathers stern face. Mori quickly stood from the chair, bowing as gingerly as his aching spine would allow.
Akira Morinozuka was tall, black haired, and slit eyed; a more weather beaten version of his eldest son. Dressed as ever in the traditional clothing favored by his family, the patriarch pulled at his short beard, surveying the room for entry points. Old habits died hard. Then he noticed the lack of Haninozuka, and he quietly sent thanks to the gods. This one took their family's obligation just a little too seriously.
He bowed his head to his son, telling him to straighten, before moving as close to the bed as his hakama would allow without bumping her lines. The older man took in her features under the misty white oxygen mask, nodding his approval. Mori blushed, shifting on the chair, and his father suppressed a chuckle at his bashfulness. All was silent in the room before he pulled up a chair beside his son, moving to join him in his quiet vigil.
"I think your mother would have liked her very much." He spoke softly, so not to wake her. Mori had spoken often of Haruhi to his father while at home, asking advice. Most of his responses had been far too forward for the reticent Morinozuka heir to take, but the clan head had done his best. He wanted his son to be happy. And this girl was the long and short of it.
When Mori turned, he noticed the ring his father gripped in against his smallest finger. His mother had been a little woman as well, engulfed by her much taller husband, and her engagement ring had been as petite to match. He imagined it would fit Haruhi very near to size. Which terrified him in a way, after having watched his father grieving the loss of half his soul when the matriarch had died while giving birth to Satoshi so many years ago. His father had never recovered from losing her, choosing to walk alone in life rather than allowing another to take her place.
He imagined that he would do the same if she left him behind with their children. It was uncomfortably close to thinking about loosing Haruhi at all, given the current situation, so he let that entire line of brooding drift far out of mind. Medical science had made great strides since then, which was reassuring enough.
The older man held the rather small diamond up to the light, watching as the harsh fluorescent glare glinted off of it's facets. Without turning in his seat, he held it out to his son, who took it with head bowed in deference. Haruhi wouldn't have wanted an enormous ring, and Mori's mother had been much the same in the sense of her practicality. He was certain she would love it even more knowing it was something very dear to him. His mother had worn it every day until her death.
"You should probably wait to put it on until she's healed completely, or her fingers might swell. Make sure she takes it off a few months after she gets pregnant, too." Mori froze, turning to look at his father as the man let an absent grin the exact equal of his younger brother's spread across his face. "Had to have it repaired the first time around after they cut it off her finger."
Oh.
Mori looked at the ring in his hands, brain function stuttering to a halt.
She felt a gentle tug on her hand, and she frowned. Someone was rubbing lotion into her hands? Then she felt him climb into bed behind her. He smoothed back the hair from her brow, trailing fingertips down her eyes so that her lids closed back shut. She relented. Haruhi was genuinely exhausted enough to give in to her husbands smothering without a fuss - for the time being.
"Go back to sleep."
She hummed, turning her head back to the pillow as she twisted into his embrace. He'd pulled her back against him upon slipping between the sheets, his comforting scent settling over her like a sleep inducing lullaby. He shifted, snaking one arm around her body to curve against her swelling stomach. Mori's large hand traced patterns on his wife's belly, and she smiled, sleepily, at the gesture of tenderness. He was born to be a hard man, and he was raised to be unyielding - but not with his loved ones. Some nights he'd sit on the floor as she sat perched in front of him on the couch, silently tracing kanji on her stomach as he spoke to his unborn child in his own quiet language of love.
Even after they'd married, he still communicated more with his actions than spoken words. But that was Mori. And Haruhi had learned in life that actions spoke much louder than words, however much her husband was one to live by his oaths.
He'd promised to keep her safe. And Takashi Morinozuka kept his promises.
Cultural Notes and Translations:
Tanto is the sister sword to a kodachi or wakizashi in daisho (samurai sword kit), basically it's a type of knife or short dagger. It has many uses, but it is also traditionally the type of knife used to commit seppuku/hara kiri (ritual or honorable suicide).
Bogu is the light armor worn by kendo practitioners to protect their body from strikes by the shinai. It consists of a breast plate, gloves with wrist protection and a helmet that also shields the shoulders.
Kote is a part of the bogu, and is a set of gloves for wrist and hand protection. The helmet is called men!
Fundoshi is basically traditional Japanese underwear, think a samurais loin cloth lol! In the manga, Mori accidentally wears his karate uniform inside out because he's so distracted once.
Haori is an overcoat for kimono.
Zori are a type of sandals worn with kimono, often made of plastic vinyl or rush mat.
Sleeve opening or miyatsu-kuchi, it's a gap under the arms for both ventilation and so that you can adjust the fit of the kimono by reaching in underneath the layers through this opening. So hard to explain!
Tabi are the split socks worn with kimono or sandals.
Inro are little medicine cases that are mostly used as objects d' art for men to hang from their obis nowadays.
Hanao is the thong/strap used for zori or geta. That bit that goes in between your toes etc.
Author's Notes:
I had a lot more fun with this one, in terms of humor. It's a little more playful than the last installment. Which follows since it was meant to give more closure without elaborating too much to alleviate the non-stop angst and tension of first bit. I think I might end here, but, I'm very tempted to explore their marriage a little bit next. Maybe. I'm kind of trying to make it so that each of these could be a stand alone too, but for entirely no good reason?
Anyways, it was really encouraging when I got so much feedback after the first chapter. I was very much inspired to continue, so thank you! So many really amazing reviews. It also really helps that I admire Mori a lot as a character, he's a fun one to play with and my favorite host in the series. I love that he's a kendo guy! It makes me miss kendo lessons ;_;
For those of you waiting for an update on "This Once", I'm sorry for getting sidetracked by "Safe". It's made things a little bit difficult for me, since all of a sudden I noticed the overwhelming trend in my plotlines and I became upset by my own repetitiveness – bwah. I guess I'm just drawn to the same kind of story archetype. I'm about 1/4th finished with the upcoming chapter, though I will be traveling for the next few days, which might slow down my progress.