That evening I knelt again at the table in my expansive bedroom, searching the internet for background on Haruhi. I had been remiss not to do so earlier in our acquaintance, but manipulating Haruhi given her special circumstances had been far too easy to warrant looking for additional… motivating information.
Of course, I had looked into the background of the other hosts at one time or another, and all had significant journalistic coverage. But search results for Haruhi were negligible. Apparently the news syndicates were not overly concerned with the lives of commoners.
She was named in a list of students who placed highly in a regional math competition two years ago. The article was accompanied by a charming group picture that I made a mental note to PhotoShop for future use.
Only one other result came up, and that was in a stunningly brief obituary from ten years ago.
On March 21st Kotoko Fujioka left this world for heaven after a brief battle with cancer. She is survived by her husband Ryoji Fujioka and daughter, Haruhi Fujioka.
What a spartan acknowledgement of the event that determined the course of Haruhi's life in so many ways. The article made no mention of Kotoko's law practice or any legacy of the life of someone cut short.
Musing on this I returned to the other name mentioned: her husband, Ryoji. Perhaps he might offer some worthwhile information.
Cell phone at my ear, I placed a call from the prep room while Haruhi was busy entertaining her admirers in the music room. "Fujioka Ryoji?" I inquired politely.
"Yes, that's me," answered an eager voice. "Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"
I wondered at the emphasis, but soldiered on. "I am Ootori Kyoya, director of the Ouran High School Host Club, where your daughter, er, volunteers after school."
"Host club?! How come I didn't know about this?!" He sounded alarmed. "My little girl," he whined, "Hiding things from her papa again. What is this 'host club' anyway? Why would my daughter keep it secret? Are you doing perverted things to her?!" he raged.
I remained coolly collected. "Certainly not, sir." I soothed. "The Ouran Host Club is where a select few young men, uh, and women, with desirable qualities and leisure time entertain the elite young ladies of our school. " I explained. "It is an excellent place for your daughter to cultivate well-placed connections for her future," I added, hoping to gain his favor.
"Ooo…entertainment? I'm an entertainer myself!" He sounded quite excited now. "What type of entertainment do you offer?"
"Oh, just tea parties, cosplays, balls and such."
"Hmmm, I've never known Haruhi to be interested in those things," he mused, then brightened. "But it's wonderful that she's making all those new friends!"
Rather erratic mood swings he has. "Yes, she is quite popular," I offered. "But the reason I am calling…"
"Oh call anytime you want! I want to hear all about what Haruhi is doing at your host club! Now, what did you say your name was?"
"Kyoya…"
"And you must call me Ranka," he insisted. "It's my stage name. None of my friends call me Ryoji. Now tell me all about the other club members."
"Another time I would be happy to." I glanced at my watch then at the door. I couldn't expect privacy much longer. "But the reason I am calling today is to make sure Haruhi has not been overburdened lately. After all, the club does take much of her free time."
As I had begun to expect, Ranka overreacted. "Do you think she is unhappy? Sick?!" Then he answered himself, "She seemed well enough when I left for work last night."
I cut him off, "So you haven't noticed anything bothering her lately? Is everything okay at home?"
"No, no, she is the same as always. I mean, yes, everything is fine here. Or, as much as ever. I know she misses her mother, and since I work nights, she spends a lot of time alone." I thought I heard a sniffle. "She takes on too much and never thinks of the cost to herself," he cried. "She does the shopping, pays the bills, and takes care of both of us. But she won't let anyone take care of her!"
Something clenched in my heart at the description of Haruhi's solitary existence. How well I knew the loneliness of carrying familial responsibility, of keeping secrets and having no one who could be trusted with them.
"What do you think?" Ranka interrupted my train of thought, a desperate note creeping into his voice. "Is she okay? Is something wrong?"
"She seems quite well," I had to admit. "I just wanted to be certain."
"Oh, what a relief…" He continued gushing but I didn't hear him as Renge entered the room and demanded, "What are you doing back here, Sempai?! Several guests have requested you and no one had any idea where you were!"
"I'm on the phone, Renge," I said for the benefit of both parties. "But I'm afraid I must be going now, Ranka-sama."
"You must promise to call me and tell me all about the host club members," he enthused. "Oh, and about your next cosplay! And…"
"I certainly will call you soon," I assured him and snapped the cell shut.
My eyes remained downcast as I processed the conversation. Renge's strident voice cut in."Come on, now, Kyoya-sempai, and I'll help you find those girls…if they're still here" she snarled. The cell phone slid into my pocket and I followed her to the music room, my eyes inadvertently scanning for Haruhi. They found her trying to balance an overloaded tray of tea things and snacks as she moved gingerly toward a table flanked by two young ladies. She takes on too much and never thinks of the cost to herself… Ranka's words echoed.
Before I knew it, I was at her side. "Let me help you with that, Haruhi," I said, sweeping from the tray a heavy china platter laden with cakes.
"I'm fine," she protested, even though it was obvious she was handling the tray more easily now.
"Of course you are," I said.
The pencil sold for a good deal more than I expected. That may have been due to a rather high bid I placed in a moment of sentimentality, but thankfully I was overbid. I did wonder whether Tamaki might have created a female user ID with which to purchase the item anonymously. I wouldn't put it past him.
The auctions had never bothered me before, but something about this one made me feel… sneaky, like I was hiding something from Haruhi. She'd already accused me of being completely self-interested. This would just confirm it.
So when the opportunity arose to come clean in an impersonal manner, I seized it. The she-lions from Lobelia Academy were harassing Haruhi, trying to win her to their club by disparaging ours. It was almost comical watching our girl defend us.
"It's not like the host club is charging their guests or anything," she told them. Here was my opening.
"While I wouldn't call it a charge, we do have a point system." I fiddled with my laptop so I wouldn't have to see the censure in her eyes. "We offer priority services based on the winning bids of auctions held on our website. And check this out, Haruhi" I said offhandedly, "Your used mechanical pencil just sold with a winning bid of thirty thousand yen. Good for you."
"What! But I thought I'd lost that pencil!"
On and on she went about the pencil. She seemed less concerned by our deception, if you would call it that, than by the loss of a favored writing implement. Like Tamaki did, I wanted to offer her a replacement, but that would have been just absurd. It was only a pencil, for crying out loud! But when she left in a huff, promising to give thought to attending the girls' school, my stomach turned to lead. My eyes followed her as she marched out the double doors of our club room.
Somehow, somewhere along the way, Haruhi had become our sun. Sure, for our guests Tamaki was the star, the King. But it was Haruhi who was adored by the hosts. Even by me, I admitted to myself.
I had done little to change her opinion of me, but she had changed my opinion of her. Faced with possibly losing her, I recognized how much I valued her wisdom, and admired the unassuming manner in which she delivered it. How proud I was of her indomitable spirit and yet how much I wished to wrap my protection around her. How my gaze caressed her, and how her presence nearby soothed my spirit and at the same time charged the air around us.
It was this desperation that made me agree to don a ball gown the following afternoon. In typical Tamaki fashion, our president ordered up an array of rental costumes – without any concern for the cost to the club, of course—and then ordered us all to join in his wacky scheme. I usually found his plans mildly amusing, a welcome change from the pressure I lived under the rest of the time, but this one was baldly mortifying.
Yet such were the lengths to which we would go, even Kyoya Ootori, rather than live without Haru-chan.
And so it was that we greeted Haruhi -and the Lobelia interlopers—dressed head to toe as society women… from some century or other. My heart beat rapidly against my ribs as I waited for her verdict.
This scheme was outlandish. It was completely insane.
And it worked. At the sight of us in all our feminine glory Haruhi burst into uncontrollable laughter, rolling on the floor and wiping tears from her eyes.
At first I was irritated. I resented her making light of our deliberate humiliation. But her laughter was infectious-all the more so because we rarely saw her in such raptures. The gloom and doubt around us burst like a bubble.
"I thought you guys were goofballs, but geez!" She wheezed out. Insulting words, to be sure, but her face shone with affection and gratitude.
The tension broken, there was nothing for it but to allow our roles to become the farce that she saw. "Call me 'Big Sister!' Call me 'Big Sister!'" The twins and Honey relentlessly chased her around the room, sending her into further hysterics.
As I watched their shenanigans I lifted a decorative fan in front of my face to hide my wide grin. But I kept one eye on the Lobelia witches; I didn't trust them.
They finally let Haruhi catch her breath and she confessed that she never had any intention of leaving Ouran Academy or the host club. Apparently her plans for success in life, like my own, would not easily be sidetracked. She tactfully dismissed the Lobelia demons, then had one more go at Tamaki for selling her precious pencil without permission.
"I hope you'll remember that next time!" she demanded, fists planted firmly on her hips.
"Next time?" I ribbed her, readjusting my glasses so I could peer down at her archly. "Are you volunteering an item for our next auction, Haruhi?"
"Ugh!" she huffed and stalked off to stash her school things.
Tamaki and I shared a long look, and smiled.
"You really do look ridiculous in that dress," I told him.
"Well, you couldn't have pulled it off," he joked. "You haven't got the fine bone structure I have."
"Or the bust line," I shot back.
We laughed and headed for the changing room.