As Haruhi walked into her small apartment, she could hear her father speaking comfortingly. "Are you comfortable, Is- oh! Look, Isan-chan, it's Haruhi!"
Haruhi's eyes searched for Isan. They found her sitting at the kitchen table awkwardly, with her knees at her chest, and not underneath her, as was how one should sit around a kitchen table in Japan.
The girl was obviously tall. Her legs were long and thick, unlike Haruhi's chicken legs. She had long, thick brown hair, uncharacteristic to her Japanese face. She wore a blue shirt, dark jeans, and her hair was up in child-like pigtails. Unfamiliar dirty sneakers took their place next to Haruhi's father's dress shoes.
"Hello, Isan. I'm Haruhi." Haruhi stuck her hand out, and Isan gripped it with forced strength.
"Hello, Haruhi." Isan stared at the ground as she spoke, and when Haruhi let go of the handshake, Isan withdrew her hand with nervous speed.
"Well," Ranka began, "if the two of you are finally home, I'll tell you the story of our family. This might be hard for you to hear, Isan. Are you alright?"
"Uhh.. Yes, I'll be fine." She fidgeted slightly in the short silence that was created after her words. She added a mumbled, "thank you," and allowed Ranka to take the floor.
"I knew, when I was a young teenager, that I was gay. So, I told this to my family. I knew they would disagree, and they threw me out of the house and onto the streets."
Ranka was interrupted by a disgusted gasp from Isan. "I never knew Grandpa and Grandma were so mean!"
"They weren't, dear. That's just how things were back then. Anyway, I remember the day. It was noon, very sunny and warm. There were kids playing outside, screaming and yelling. Life was happy for so many people, and my parents told me to pack and to leave. I didn't pack. I just left. Gokai, your father," Ranka said as he tossed an aloof look to Isan, "watched me leave from our bedroom window. It stung. He didn't even object. I thought that he would, at least, be on my side. I was wrong.
"Our parents put my college fund into his bank, and I worked as a waiter and mechanic and other odd jobs to keep the food money and rent coming in. We separated, like all brothers separate, but the betrayal kept the distance between us so much farther than that between normal brothers." Ranka let out a sad sigh and then smiled happily. "But had we not been speaking, and had my parents never kicked me out, I would have gone to college, and I wouldn't have been a waiter. I wouldn't have met Kotoko. I wouldn't have fallen in love, and I wouldn't have Haruhi. But that's a story for another day!"
Ranka's mood grew dark again. "I hadn't talked to him for almost ten years, when he came to Kotoko's funeral. You were on his shoulders, dressed in a little black dress and crying, like a sad angel, Isan." Ranka stopped speaking and was lost in his reverie. Only the two girls who looked into his eyes could understand the sadness and happiness and loneliness that made up that single expression on his face.
"At first, I hated you. You, with Haruka and Gokai. You had the family my little baby could not have anymore. As I held Haruhi's small hand, I looked at you, and I saw the tears that ran down your face, for the aunt you had never met before. I was... moved." Ranka's expression returned to one unexplainable.
Haruhi's heart felt like it was going to break. Her father never let his emotions out when it came to Kotoko. She knew he was always just trying to protect her, and did not want Haruhi to see his pain. Ranka always wanted to be a strong man in front of Haruhi, to set the example of how to deal with the wound of a lost mother. To see him like this hurt her, but at the same time, hearing her father speaking of her mother so freely this way filled her with strength.
"You had been to many funerals before, Isan. Your father is a skilled scientist, and since your mother comes from money, you're in the 'in' crowd. You know everyone, and when anyone who's anyone dies, you're expected at their funeral. You were never a well-behaved child. You had tantrums, but you were spoiled rotten. You behaved well at funerals, though, because you always had a lot of compassion for others. You would see someone crying, and just stop caring about your wants and needs, which is remarkable for a young child. Anyway, there you were, crying for Kotoko. You were loud, too, and I heard you ask your father why you never got to know 'Auntie Kotoko'. Of course, he didn't answer you, so you asked again and again, like children do, and he lost his temper and yelled at you. You began crying hysterically, and you all went home." Ranka let out a laugh.
Before he could go on, the door swung open and six beautiful boys stood in the doorway and took off their shoes.
"Ranka! Hello!" one of the boys with glasses said as he walked over to Ranka.
Ranka stood. "Kyoya! It's so great to see you again!"
"Ranka!" a tall blond interrupted, stepping in between the glasses-boy and Haruhi's father. "You look stunning tod-whatareyouwearing?"
Ranka frowned. "What do you mean, 'what are you wearing'? I'm wearing clothes!"
"But Ranka doesn't look like Ranka without his dress on, huh, Takashi?" a smaller blond asked a stone-faced boy from atop his shoulders.
"No," the stone-faced boy answered without a touch of emotion.
Isan replayed the small boy's words in her head. She elbowed Haruhi gently and whispered, "dress?"
Ranka sighed the I-knew-this-would-happen sigh. "Isan-chan," he began, placing a tender hand on her shoulder, "I'm a professional cross dresser. Does that bother you?"
Isan's eyes widened. "No! Oh, no! I only said anything because I was surprised! Honestly, I think what you do is great!"
Ranka smiled, then disappeared. Moments later, he came back, make-upped, dressed, and hair brushed. "How do I look?"
"Gr-eat!" several of the boys answered.
From her spot next to Isan, Haruhi began growling. She pounded her fist on the table, rattling the teacups, and everyone turned to her. "Will you guys just leave? Didn't you ever stop to think that maybe we didn't want you here?"
The tall blond looked hurt. "You don't want us here, Haruhi?"
Two twins echoed him with a dramatic, "why don't you want us, Haruhi?" They dabbed their eyes with tissues and wailed loudly.
Isan smiled. She had never seen such interesting people before.
Out of the corner of her eye, Haruhi noticed her cousin's smile, and realized it was thanks to the Host Club. While Haruhi had never found them particularly amusing, Isan seemed to think they were a lot of fun. "Fine, fine, you can stay. But you have t- Tamaki-senpai, get out of my cabinets!"
"Look, Hikaru! Kaoru!" Tamaki was saying to the twins, "Mugs from all different areas in Japan!"
"But none from Europe?" one of the twins asked.
"No, Kaoru, she doesn't have a passport!" the twin that must have been Hikaru stated loudly.
Tamaki and Kaoru hushed him and they huddled into a corner and murmured unintelligibly.
Isan stared at this, then turned back to the crowd to see if anyone else was watching the show she was watching. No one else paid any mind to the three in the corner, and she could not help but wonder why.
Haruhi was glaring at the remaining three, who were staring Isan in the eye. Isan noticed this and quickly let her eyes fall to the floor.
"Isan," a voice called. She looked up to see the boy with glasses was the one who addressed her.
"No, Kyoya-senpai! Leave her alone!" Haruhi yelled. "She's had a long day. She doesn't need you to ask her lots of questions!"
Normally, Isan would have objected. Maids, nannies, and her parents always spoke for her. She had no independence at all, but did not want to be asked questions by this Kyoya person.
"Isa-chan, it's nice to meet you," the small blond said with a cherub-like smile.
"Yeah," the boy who held him up agreed.
"Dad," Haruhi began, "can you just please finish your story?"
Ranka looked surprised, but sat back down at his spot. "Yeah, I should."
At the mention of a story, the whole house ended its antics and sat around the table.
"Oh! Story? About what, Ranka?" Tamaki asked.
Ranka pretended not to hear him and began where he left off. "I haven't seen Gokai since the funeral. He came this morning, begging me to take you in. I know your uncle Kyo is in Italy, and your aunt is... not in good condition."
"No, she's not." Isan stared at the table. "She and Uncle Kyo were always really nice to me. I think they wanted me to be loved enough that I wouldn't feel the hole of not having any cousins. It's hard being the only kid. Having to go to all of those boring meets. Being expected to be a grown-up. My parents did nothing but fight. I didn't help any, I know. I made it worse. I did it on purpose, sometimes. Just because it would make them feel as sad as me. I was too little to see I was only making myself sad." Everyone around the table looked at her with a compassion-filled face- all except for Kyoya and that tall one with no emotions. "Oh, but that was a long time ago! I'm alright now, so don't look at me like that!"
Haruhi did not like the fake smile Isan put on her face. Her eyes floated to Tamaki, who also looked concerned.
"But I thought I should tell you something." Isan looked at Ranka. She was not yet sure whether or not it was alright to call him Ranka, or if she should call him uncle or aunt. For the time, she decided not to call him anything. "When Kotoko died, I remember a lot. I don't think you know as much about my dad as you think you do."
The room was silent and somber as Isan went on. "We're not at all religious, but one day we were in America, and on the late news was the story of a terrible hate crime. A young gay girl was killed because of the fact that she was gay. Daddy told me to pray. He told me there was a beautiful angel in heaven who watches over someone special to him, who also happens to be gay." Isan laughed. "At first I though he was having a homosexual fling on the side, but a while later I went to sleep. I had a dream that night, but when I woke up I didn't remember it. I did know- somehow- that it was you he was talking about. I didn't know you were gay, though, so I thought it was my imagination, and I forgot about it. But, if you married Kotoko, why didn't you get on better terms with the family?"
"Well, I called them and told them I was marrying a woman. My father was thrilled, and wanted to welcome me back to the family. But my mother was upset. She said that I was still gay, and that I would leave my wife heartbroken for the first man I saw. She refused to come to the wedding, so my father didn't go, either. To keep them happy, Gokai stayed behind, too."
"That's a sad story," Tamaki said. "That a family should be broken up for that reason."
"But it happens," Ranka told him. "And it's an old matter."
"But you shouldn't give up, Ranka!" Tamaki cried. "Gokai is still your brother!"
Ranka took a sip of his tea and glared at Tamaki over his teacup. "I don't believe this is any of your business, Tamaki." He put the cup down and made a face. "It's cold."
Tamaki huddled close to himself. "Sorry."
Not a single sound came from any of the mouths of the nine people who sat around the Fujioka's family table. The story sank in to everyone's minds. No one knew what to say to make this alright.
Isan took a deep breath. "Everything fixes itself," she said, "and if this is meant to be fixed, it will be fixed." She stood and collected the teacups and empty plates (everyone had helped themselves to something). She walked over to the sink and washed the dishes.
Ranka let out a laugh. "You do the dishes?"
"Yes."
"Don't maids do them for you?" The twins asked.
"Yes."
Koyoya pushed up his glasses and said, "I'm surprised you collected them like that. It looked like it was a habit."
"I do the dishes a lot now." Isan tried to keep her voice from trembling. "They fight after dinner. You can't hear them in the kitchen." She felt her nose tickle- a sure sign she would cry soon. She wiggled her face and tried to keep the tears away. How silly she felt, each time she cried over feuding parents.
Tamaki happened to see her glassy eyes. He stood and hugged her from behind. Isan turned her head to look at him and he whispered into her ear, "we'll protect you. I promise."
Her body went numb, and she dropped a cup into the sudsy water. She leaned into him, and let him support her.
No one had ever promised to protect her before. No one but her father, who always broke his promises and fought more and more.
The tears she had tried to keep at bay overflowed and ran down her cheeks. She felt weak and childish, but she believed this boy who suddenly held her heart in his hands.
He did not ask her if she was alright, and he did not tell her it was okay. He just stood there, stiff as a rock, and held her like a guardian angel.
"I'm sorry," Isan hiccuped when the tears stopped.
"It's alright," Tamaki said and led her back to the table gently. He sat down next to her, in a protective sort of way that made Isan's confidence in him to grow.
They all began talking and laughing about people Isan did not know and experiences Isan had not been there for, but she felt very comfortable.
Tamaki was laughing a lot.