CHAPTER FOUR(A)

Attack of the Lady Proposals!

.

Kaoru-chan has been lying in bed for hours, unable to sleep from the buzz left over from listening to onee-chan's swashbuckling stories. Despite having no need to steal, he's thinking of possibly becoming a jewel thief or art thief himself, just for the thrill of it.

He's going to be like her someday, a master of deception.

From tomorrow, he will begin training himself to exude a goodness he doesn't have, and smile a happiness he doesn't feel. He will use the method that she used to improve herself: observing other people, collecting snapshots of their personalities, and practise practise practise.

Like what onee-chan had said: why bother creating all-new personas when you can imitate what is already in front of you? Nothing that you can imagine will be as authentic as what already exists. If you act like other people, other people will assume that you are one of them.

That's exactly what she's doing right now. She's acting as a nanny, so the other servants feel comfortable with her because they assume that she is of similar social status as they are. That's how she'd found out the location of the safe – by listening to the staff's friendly gossip.

She's right, of course – how could he not have seen it before? It's actually embarrassing to have the finger immediately pointed at them whether or not they've actually caused any mischief.

Real masters cover their tracks.

He decides that he will learn how to hide his true intentions and catch the enemy unawares, relying only on himself and trusting no one.

Except Hikaru-chan.

This is the one aspect in which Kaoru-chan will always be unlike her – he relies on someone else and he trusts that person implicitly. He hopes fervently that this will not disqualify him from being as wonderfully cold-blooded as she is. It bothers him that he may fall short of her benchmark, but nothing will ever displace Hikaru-chan from his number one position.

His attention is diverted by a light squeeze to his hand; Hikaru-chan sniffles drowsily. "Kaoru, you can't sleep?"

Kaoru-chan shifts closer, whispering cozy reassurances to his treasured twin. They fall asleep together, oblivious to the inaudible footfalls in their room or the quiet clink of their coin bank being carried away by light fingers.

Many, many years later, when Kaoru-chan is fifteen and a half and has put enough distance between himself and this painful memory, he will experience a sudden epiphany about how much he respects onee-chan for leaving. Truth is, if onee-chan had been the type of person who would accept a higher pay and remain a servant for her whole life, he wouldn't have liked her that much anyway.

.


.

30 October 2010.
Saturday.

"Waaaaaaaaaaiii!" Honey squeals as he makes an amazing splash for someone so small.

Hikaru howls gleefully and follows suit, curling himself into a cannonball and launching into the pool.

Kaoru, his twin and Mori are at Honey's house having a mini poolside party. Those three had planned everything and Hikaru had just dragged Kaoru along as soon as he'd woken up this morning, insisting that he'd informed Kaoru about this weeks and weeks ago.

Kaoru doesn't remember being told at all. Hikaru claims that he must have forgotten it in the ridiculous whirlwind of things he's had to do lately, but that's not possible since he hasn't been doing much for the past week.

No, don't think about that.

Kaoru polishes off his slice of cake and licks the fork absently, reluctant to get up from the comfortable beach chair. He wants to enjoy himself now that he's here to spend the entire weekend with three of his favourite people. Thinking about unnecessary thoughts would just ruin the sleepover.

"Kao-chan, come and join us! Don't eat all the cake!" Honey beckons, arms waving about animatedly.

"Ka-o-ru!" Hikaru bellows before the rest of his sentence descends into indecipherable burbling, his head having been pushed underwater by Mori.

Hikaru had (stupidly) challenged their seniors to a two-on-two match: on a turn-by-turn basis, each team is allowed to make five moves or take five steps. The five moves are shared between both members of a team, and both must freeze in place when their five steps are up. To win, a team must get both members of the other team into the pool.

Needless to say, the twins had lost miserably for six games in a row.

In order to gain a moment of reprieve, Kaoru had quickly served himself some cake in full knowledge that Honey will never interrupt – or permit others to interrupt – a person in the sacred act of eating cake.

The seniors had turned to Hikaru instead, bullying him with cheerful abandon. Hikaru had looked rather thrilled to be their prey, so Kaoru had left them to it.

It occurs to him that what he's doing – sitting on the sidelines and watching the entertainment – is precisely what Kyouya always does.

His smile slips off his face.

The pool in Honey's house is fun but nothing beats the Ootori Entertainment Complex. For the past year, it has completely overshadowed their neglected personal pools. They usually go as guests of young master Kyouya and get lots of special treatment because of it.

Kaoru doesn't want to think of Kyouya now.

Five times over the past two weeks, he has been turned away from the Ootori house by the servant at the door. For the first week, Kyouya was still leaving memos for him about work that needs to be done, but by the second week not a single directive was issued. They haven't been meeting each other in school either, save for club – and both times Kyouya had left hurriedly with curt instructions to close club.

Kaoru doesn't understand why – it can't be because of that fight. They'd resolved it and had worked fine after that; in fact, he'd thought that they'd grown a lot closer. And it's not like Ootori-sama will be back until the end of the fortnight, yet Kyouya is already shutting him out.

To make everything worse, he doesn't even have the benefit of fashion work to keep his mind off things, since Ren has been tied up with the Japan Fashion Week.

A gnawing feeling bites away at his heart every day. He doesn't know how to say anything about it; he doesn't want to say anything about it. Kyouya's personal phone has been switched off and Kaoru knows better than to call him on his professional or club phone for personal matters.

So, he keeps going to Kyouya's house. Every morning, without fail.

That's why he has a hunch that this sleepover is entirely spontaneous on their part, meant to keep him from moping after his fruitless visits.

A warm hand lands on his shoulder. "If you know that's why we're doing this, then don't let yourself dwell in your unhappiness."

Kaoru startles; he whips his head around and sees their most taciturn, wise, and mind-reading senior standing behind him wearing a slightly reproachful expression.

"We worry."

Anxiously, he seeks out the location of the other two – they are still in the pool, shooting each other with the JetStream 5000 and the MachBunny IV – only then does the embarrassment set in and cause him to hang his head. He closes his eyes when he feels Mori's long fingers thread through his hair, easing the sting of his prior chastisement.

"Mori-senpai," he says, and Mori hears everything left unsaid.

His senior exhales heavily and settles beside him; no more words are exchanged. They look on as their loved ones continue to attack each other rowdily, and after a while, Kaoru finds that he has to smile at their silliness.

Mori cuts him a glance: much better.

Kaoru takes a fortifying breath, and confesses, "I feel awful, senpai."

"Hnn."

"I worry, too. I hate not knowing what's going on." He's certain that he's not feuding with Kyouya. Apart from the lack of communication, Kyouya really hasn't displayed any unfriendliness or displeasure. He just seemed really rushed and busy, and though he looked impeccable as always in club, Kaoru could sense that he felt extremely hassled.

"Do you think he's deliberately ignoring you?" Mori asks.

Yes... and no. It's not so straightforward! Both answers are backed up by plausible explanations. Kyouya's never been socially careless, which suggests that he chose this course of action. On the other hand, it's not his style to thoroughly brush off those closest to him.

It is very bold, but Kaoru fancies that he knows Kyouya a little by now. "I think," he hazards a guess, "that he's trying to hold me at arm's length but I'm not sure that he intends to be quite so cold. It's because – did Mori-senpai notice how tense he was yesterday? I think he's swamped by work or something, and it amplifies the effect of his aloofness."

Ah, good. Mori's face says that he has come to the same conclusion. That lends credibility like few other things can.

Kyouya, being Kyouya, would have foreseen a certain degree of amplification. What does it mean, that he doesn't care, or that he cares less that Kaoru may feel alienated than some other concern? Also, this conspicuous estrangement between them is inevitably short term. One or more of them is bound to confront Kyouya about it sooner or later, which would make it a useless long-term tactic.

This is what it all adds up to: something big is going on now. It is something that Kyouya wants to keep Kaoru away from, yet it is something that he knows will not be hidden forever. Kyouya likes subtlety, but he prizes efficiency over everything else – meaning that, at the moment, it is more important that nobody know of whatever it is, than it is to not arouse suspicions.

He's probably factored in Kaoru's curiosity and investigative ability. His estimation would be spot on, too – he knows too much of what Kaoru can and cannot do from the tasks that he's been setting, which unfortunately means...

About the time when Kaoru will have found out enough to make an educated guess, the news will be ready to be made known to the world.

It is consistent with Kyouya's modus operandi, and it makes Kaoru mad as hell.

He'd thought they were better than this.

In the end, Kyouya just likes playing his cards close to his chest. Kaoru doesn't want that part of Kyouya to change; he has merely gotten used to his privileged position at Kyouya's side, entitled to peek at those cards at will.

"Kyouya-senpai's eldest brother and sister-in-law talked to me," Kaoru states abruptly.

Mori's eyes widen a fraction. He looks troubled as he contemplates this new information.

"Nnn," he acknowledges finally, nodding his head.

This is a safe place for Kaoru to leave his burden. The similarity between Mori and Kyouya is their silence where the rest of the club is loud; when the mouth is shut, the eyes and ears function better. For a protector, this is invaluable – unless they know what they must defend against, they cannot do their job properly.

Mori is a pillar of strength for the people he loves, and Kaoru will accept the protection so freely offered.

They remain sitting as they watch Honey chase Hikaru around, resuming their game one-on-one. Formidable opponent though Honey remains, without Mori in the game they can no longer do any of that outrageous tossing each other around business. That's probably the reason Hikaru has narrowly scraped through several turns, but Honey is beginning to do his horrifying bunny hops and kicks.

There is a low, rumbly sound that Kaoru takes a while to recognise as Mori's laughter.

Laughter?

That's the kiss of death for his ill-fated Hikaru.

Hikaru and his idiotic banzai-banzai mindset is still trying to give as good as he's getting, leading him to make suicidal cracks at Honey.

Kaoru really admires his brother's never-say-die attitude.

Randomly, Mori says, "Do you know where Ootori Yoshio-sama has been?"

"Aah?" Kaoru replies, distracted. "Kyouya-senpai said – Hikaru! Dodge! No! Go left! Left! – Kyouya-senpai mentioned he was in Europe."

"... France?"

"Eeeh? I don't know. Kyouya-senpai didn't really – "

Sadly, he won't be able to keep living if his twin is dead, so he makes to rescue Hikaru from their impressive foe.

"Kaoru."

Kaoru freezes mid-run, realising how rude he's being to his senior. He turns around apologetically. "Senpai, I'm sorry."

Mori's face looks carved out of stone.

Oh. When Mori speaks on serious topics, he should listen equally seriously.

Chagrined, he walks back to the beach chair, stopping in front of Mori to face up to his mistake.

"Sen – " is all he manages to say before his world is upended.

"Hah HAH," Honey crows triumphantly. "Hika-chan, we've got your Kao-chan now!"

"Nooooo! Kaoru!" Hikaru wails in anguish. "Kaoruuu!"

Kaoru is flying through the air, flung by a pair of battle-toned arms. Before he is dunked into the water, he catches a glimpse of Mori smiling at him:

Much, much better.

.


.

Earlier today, Kaoru'd attempted to catch Kyouya with an entire arsenal of pretexts at his fingertips to explain his presence in the 3-A classroom. As it'd turned out, he hadn't needed to use them because Kyouya hadn't been there at recess or at lunch. There'd been books on his table so he must have come to school, though his bag had been missing. Leaving the vicinity of 3-A stealthily so as to avoid detection, Kaoru had gone over all the possible places Kyouya could have been at – the infirmary, the cafe, the staff room, the libraries – before he had been forced to admit defeat.

Then, as usual, he'd gone to the Ootori house; and, as usual, had been politely rebuffed.

He's plodding along to the Hitachiin offices in the wrong frame of mind. Although Ren is working at Hitachiin, she has (with Kaoru's mother's blessings) begun to establish her own independent label which shows in the JFW. As she has concluded everything that she'd needed to do, they are officially commencing a regime of after-school fashion lessons.

Kaoru feels disgusted with himself. How dare he not want to be here, when his teacher is the stupendous Saejima Ren? He has heard anecdotes of the lengths to which fashion students have been willing to go in order to become her disciples. It won't do for him to forget that the only reason she is teaching him is due to his mother, and not because of whatever talents that he may have. He's smart enough to capitalise on chances that come to him through sheer birth privilege.

"O-Ren-san," Kaoru greets deferentially, dipping into a bow. "How are you?"

"Ah, Kaoru-kun! I'm very well," she replies with a smile, inclining her head slightly. "And you?"

She's honestly friendly, too; as patient as any person who's pressed for time can reasonably be expected to be, and firm and decisive in her actions. Her husband is so hopelessly smitten with her that his praises border on the fine line of social acceptability, often just tipping into the disconcerting end of the behavioural spectrum. Kaoru knows this because her husband is his mother's cousin, and his mother had been the one to bring the happy couple together.

"What I want you to do this week," she says briskly as soon as the niceties are out of the way, "is to work with the archival unit. This is Yoshimura Chikako-san, our head archivist. She will show you the ropes."

With that, Ren turns on her heel and vanishes, leaving a very dazed Kaoru.

The archive? And doesn't Chikako-san work in the France office?

"This way, Kaoru-kun." Chikako heads down a corridor without checking to see if he's following.

Ooookay.

As a matter of course, Kaoru has met all of these people before. When he and Hikaru were younger, they'd occasionally terrorised their chauffeur into driving them here, or they would prank call the offices out of boredom. Their notoriety has spread to every corner of every Hitachiin office around the globe, but they've still always been treated with a level of courtesy beyond the norm because of their status.

Kaoru understands what this is. It isn't payback. His mother doesn't hire that kind of low quality people. It's a compliment – since he's signed up for this, they aren't going to do the baby steps phase with him; instead, they are treating him as a colleague now.

And he knows that he is able to correctly identify their changed attitudes towards him solely because of Kyouya. He feels a terrible pang at the stray thought.

"These are the tags that accompany every article of clothing. The garments are sorted by season and collection. We preserve them carefully in these vacuum bags; the tags go on the outside of the bags."

Kaoru is surprised to see that the room is packed to the brim with all of their past collections; even the latest season's collection is here! They have always been warehoused in France for easy access and reference. It doesn't make sense for the newest collection to be in Japan when Kaoru's mother is going to need these prototypes.

Chikako rifles through a stack of cards on the table and extracts one of them for Kaoru. "Your first job is to fill in the tags for the latest collection. I've given you an example of a completed tag. There are detailed descriptions of any and every material or fabric used to make the dress. Include the measurements of the dress and date all of them accordingly. I will have to confirm that the information on the tags is correct, and then you may attach them to the bags. The exact information should then be entered into our database. All of this must be done by dawn tomorrow, when we will ship this season's collection back to France."

He gasps, just barely preventing himself from squawking. Itemising forty of these highly complex clothes in one night?!

"Here is your workstation, Kaoru-kun. I'm sure I don't need to elaborate on the proper procedures for handling these garments," she says, returning to her work.

He knows he can't keep feeling overwhelmed every time he's asked to do challenging work. Still, it's a struggle to curb the urge to run home to Hikaru and force him on this same life path. In Kaoru's mind, he has only ever imagined himself in a professional atelier with his twin right by his side. This decision that he's made alone is causing him to have the worst bouts of separation anxiety that he's ever experienced. He knows this stuff, but his self-esteem is not used to standing on its own without Hikaru. Everything is twice as difficult when he's half the person he used to be.

Kaoru's hands are shaking slightly when he reaches for a dress and lays it out to examine it. This outer layer – it is chiffon and not georgette, right? He touches it; if it's smoother it's chiffon, but his extremities feel rather cold despite the regulated temperature of the office. He wrings his hands to reintroduce heat, and a memory comes to him: cool fingers, a self-assured gaze, and a voice saying 'it is possible to do them all if you manage your time well'.

The twinge of frustration he feels does not stop a smile from tugging at his lips. After the things he has had to do for Kyouya, he should not be afraid of tasks that seem insurmountable. Little by little, he will chip away at it – that is all he needs to do for the problems to resolve themselves.

Encouraged, he gets to work.

.


.

The next day, Chikako drops a bombshell on him:

"These are our past collections – if you look at their tags, you'll realise that they are different from the ones that you used yesterday. We are updating all the tags to these newer ones to increase the amount of detail recorded. Copy the old information onto the new tags, then find out the additional information that the new tags require. The documents over there should contain everything you need. Please also colour-code the collections."

So it is that Kaoru is sifting through the rich history of Hitachiin on his knees, a mimicry of the reverence he feels towards his mother's empire. He's seen all of these garments in glossy lookbooks. Every single one of them is imprinted indelibly in his mind, a consequence of him having spent much of his years poring over the books repeatedly. They have long been part of the landscape of his fantasies, though he hasn't seen or touched many of them for real.

This is his dream, yet –

Once more he finds himself not wanting to be here.

Hikaru had been strongly opposed when he'd found that Kaoru was going to the office again. Yesterday, Kaoru had stumbled home at 4 am and had collapsed into bed without further ceremony. He'd woken Hikaru but he hadn't been in any condition to provide coherent explanations; Hikaru had gone into protective big brother mode so rapidly that Kaoru had almost gotten whiplash.

They'd come dangerously close to having an actual fight. Worry had gotten the better of Hikaru and he'd spent an hour lecturing Kaoru for being irresponsible when all Kaoru had wanted was to fall asleep. He'd nearly snapped at his twin – exhaustion alone had held him back.

Hikaru is at Mori's house now; they've come to an impasse, neither willing to say anymore to the other to avoid escalation.

What is it about difference that causes people to fall out? Is this something that they are going to have to get used to?

When they were one entity, they never disagreed.

Kaoru feels so lost.

At school, he'd been utterly crestfallen at Kyouya's absence in 3-A. Tamaki hadn't been in the classroom either. Rather than hunt around for his seniors, he'd promptly taken out his laptop to resume his investigation. Kaoru's no slouch as a sleuth and he knows it. They cannot afford to waste any more time in cracking this mystery.

These are the facts he has amassed thus far:

Ootori zaibatsu shares have risen sharply in value from the Slez Syndrome medicine. The rights to the medicine are tightly controlled; its releases in Japan and the wider Asia region have been personally overseen by Yuuichi.

There's something wrong there. Yuuichi and Kiyomi must have been in over their heads with the project, yet they've been showing up every Saturday for dinner and a chat?

And – why is Akito prowling the corridors at home when he's heading the recent Australian-New Zealand release? He should be continents away for several months at least. Why would he fly back and forth tirelessly?

To cap it all off, Kaoru had discovered something that had made him want to kill himself for being indefensibly slow: Ootori-sama is indeed in Europe – in France, and staying with Grantaine-sama.

Henceforth, Kaoru solemnly vows to hang onto every word spoken by Honey or Mori.

Why, why... how could he have been so dense?

Suou-sama is also in France. The presence of those three companies – it's obvious that they are preparing for the European release.

'They'.

Under the agreements made by those scheming adults, in return for the Grantaine family receiving the lion's share of the profits, the Ootori zaibatsu is to own full and inviolable rights over distribution. Ootori-sama can release the medicine in wherever and whenever he sees fit, so why is Grantaine-sama and Suou-sama still involved?

Does that tie in with the seniors' absence during free periods? Hadn't he noticed that Kyouya appeared to be upset with Tamaki? How does everything fit into the big picture?

Though murky and indistinct, the clues point to a Suou-Ootori alliance simmering in the background.

Just the thought makes Kaoru break out in a cold sweat. Such a situation has all the makings of an earth-shattering crisis.

Already he is too far off the pace.

His mind is miles away from the clothes and cards in his hands. He's thinking about how to pick up the loose strands so that they may be woven into a whole. Ootori-sama is returning on the 13th; in all probability, that's the deadline.

When Chikako tells him to wrap it up, he sprints out of the office without a backward glance.

.


.

The brief magic that he'd felt upon seeing the vast collections is gradually being corroded by the mind-numbing process of archival.

He is appalled to realise that he remembers nothing of whatever he's worked through.

Constant oscillation between guilt and anxiousness is wearing him down – he wants to keep researching and the hours spent in the office are a real hindrance, but then he feels shame at not appreciating this opportunity.

His mental state has taken a bit of a battering.

This is the fourth time today that he has been given a ten-minute break to 'rest his sore back and knees'; it's more probable that Chikako is showing some mercy to him.

"Hello?"

In a quiet corner of the office pantry, he is making a private phone call using the office phone, in order that his caller ID will not show up.

"Hello, Fuyumi-san? It's Kaoru."

She is silent for half a beat.

"Oh, Kaoru-kun! How are you?"

Skipping all the pleasantries, Kaoru asks, "Fuyumi-san, have you seen Kyouya-senpai lately?"

"I haven't, Kaoru-kun. Did you get into a fight with him? That's too sad – the both of you are wonderful together. Well, don't worry. My little brother won't ignore you forever."

Elementary Ootori ruse: if he's calling it means he cares about Kyouya, so she's playing on his feelings to divert him from asking, "Why haven't you been seeing him?"

"I have business that must be attended to. Even though it is bothersome, I can't damage the Shido or Ootori name, ne?"

If she had said anything along the lines of how Ootori-sama doesn't like her to show up so frequently, or if she had so much as attempted to deny that she likes annoying Kyouya, Kaoru would have jumped on it. But she knows that he's not going to be able to pry into her business without being dreadfully vulgar. "Do you know where Kyouya-senpai is? We haven't seen him around Ouran."

"He can't have missed school. That boy is so studious that if I don't tell him to rest, he wouldn't know when to stop. Ah, Kaoru-kun, I must go," she says, not once giving herself away by speeding up. "I've bought many sweets that you like. The next time we meet I'll give them to you! See you!"

She hangs up oh-so-casually.

Kaoru flops back into the plush beanbag, absorbing the new data he's gleaned from the call: all the Ootoris are in on it.

Perhaps it has something to do with Kyouya's college education? Kaoru has found out – through a school cleaner – that his senior has submitted an early action application to Yale. The cleaner is a friend, a convivial elderly man named Takumi, who had overheard teachers in the staff room discussing Kyouya's reference letters. Apparently, they had been caught in a quandary about how to best present such a novel idea as a host club as an extracurricular activity.

He really owes it all to Kyouya for compelling him to establish his own network. It really is the best thing in the universe, though it makes him feel like a double-crossing lowlife for using it against his senior.

"Hello? Is this the NTT? I'm worried about a call that I made five minutes ago on this number. I called the other person but I think she may not be in Japan; will I be charged the overseas rates? Heh heh, I'm using the office phone, you see, and I'm afraid that my boss will find out."

He's learnt that employees tend to protect other employees based on a camaraderie of unknown origin.

"Oooh," comes the comradely reply, "Please wait a moment while I check our database... I see. Your friend's line is registered with our company but it is enabled to roam internationally. You will be charged the normal local rates, and she will bear the extra cost."

So Fuyumi is indeed out of the country.

Kaoru makes some perfunctory exclamations of relief, and complains, "These forgetful friends; they never tell you anything important! She hung up so quickly too. I don't even know when she's coming back from wherever she is!"

The voice on the other end sighs in commiseration.

"I know. My friend is like that too. I use the company's system to track her down," she laughs. "Your friend must be enjoying herself too much to remember to tell you where she is. She's in the Kingdom of Monale – I'm so envious!"

Kaoru would have leapt up were it not for the beanbag swallowing him into its depths.

He mustn't go berserk over this news. Fuyumi could very well be in Monale for her personal pleasure – a wealthy, influential young lady with time on her hands in a European shopping mecca – it's a perfectly rational explanation.

Except for the fact that Kaoru was brought up to trust his gut feelings. His mother and grandmother practically built their lives on refined instinct – a fusion of knowledge and educated guesswork.

He doesn't have the resources to keep an eye on Fuyumi, much less the rest of Kyouya's family. Even if he does, few people are able to tail an Ootori and remain undetected.

Kaoru has never been so desperate for a powerful personal team.

When they finally call it a day, he exits the building to see that Honey is waiting for him by the car. He understands immediately that he will be going to Honey's house for the night – his luggage is packed for him, his senior's face looks extremely concerned, and frankly he's only too glad to go.

When Honey rushes at him to give him a hug, he lets himself be held; the way he feels is beyond description. They have imposed on their seniors time and time again – each time, their seniors seem to find it in themselves to give more and more.

Honey's hands are small and his whispers tender with affection: Hika-chan is at Takashi's, same as yesterday, and Honey is here for Kao-chan, and Kao-chan should come home with Honey because Honey will always, always want Kao-chan.

.


.

His fourth day, and Chikako is ready to fire him.

"Kaoru-kun, I don't think you should come in tomorrow," she says without warning.

Kaoru fumbles the bundle of tags he's holding, and they cascade to the ground like a shower of colourful fireworks. She's well within her right to do so, and she's well justified in her actions. The blood drains out of his face; he feels faint and sick to his stomach.

"Chikako-san!" he cries out in despair. "I'm really sorry! I – I'm – Please don't ask me to leave! I'll try harder!"

Oh god, what will Mother say?

"Don't – no – calm down, Kaoru-kun!" Chikako exclaims, taken aback by his ferocity. "I wasn't dismissing you."

He bends to pick up all of the tags hastily. It isn't like him to be so clumsy, but how will she know how he's supposed to be like? Apprentices are judged primarily by their performance and not their potential.

"Kaoru-kun, stop that. Go and sit down," she orders.

He hears her, but still he continues to gather the last of the tags to himself. She doesn't voice any further objections, choosing instead to settle back on her chair to wait while he rearranges them. At no point does she take her eyes off him though her scrutiny is not hostile.

When Kaoru is done, he stays on the floor with his head bowed, accepting his fault and his frailty.

Kyouya would've been so disappointed in him for not focusing on the tasks at hand.

"Chikako-san," he begins, "I am committed to this profession, this industry and this company. I have loved my mother's work all my life. I have no excuse for my behaviour."

She smiles at him. It is difficult for Kaoru to puzzle out Chikako's thoughts; true to her vocation, her mind is one big filing unit sorted to a classification only she knows.

The both of them keep very still by unspoken agreement. In a couple of meagre sentences, he has thrown so much of himself out there that he feels wrung dry.

"Do you know why O-Ren-san gave you this assignment?"

Kaoru has eliminated the impossible, and though the remainder sounds too good to be true, it must be the truth. "O-Ren-san wants me to use the history of Hitachiin as my foundation. That's why she sent for all the past and present collections to be brought to Japan, and why Head Archivist-san is here – because nobody is more qualified to answer questions about this company than Head Archivist-san. It wasn't my mother that caused all this to happen; Mother isn't in the habit of spoiling us professionally."

The archive in France would not have acceded to such a request unless a person of sufficient authority called the shots; the person who would go to such lengths for him could only be family – only Ren fits the criteria.

He lifts his head at Chikako's light laughter. He's right on every count.

"Fashion houses love a creative director who respects their heritage," Chikako reflects. "The clients expect it; the editors commend it. You know this, Kaoru-kun."

He nods.

"I first met you when you were six. Do you remember it?"

He does. Chikako had not felt the need to guess between a pair of twins out of some misguided notion of 'fun'. She may just have been of an apathetic disposition towards such things, like Haruhi, but she was their first encounter of this sub-species of humankind, and it had been an eye-opener to meet a person whose very nature does not instantaneously provoke mockery from the twins.

"I thought then – what precocious children these are! One of you openly reviewed the '99 collection in front of the mains. The critique harsh and the admiration transparent, as though it was the only topic worth any amount of discourse. You were so uninhibited, so forthright, so dauntless – it was mesmerising to watch," she recalls.

That's... really grand to hear.

Chikako makes a sound that's a cross between a hum and a laugh. "Was that your twin?"

Kaoru shrugs, unconcerned. He accepts kudos whether they are directed at Hikaru or at him – whatever belongs to one, belongs to both.

"The other child," she carries on, "chipped in every now and then to deliver a chorus of cheeky comments with his brother. I felt that the child would ordinarily have said a lot more, but he was so engrossed, so intense – the child was swept away, he could no longer exist as us common mortals do; so profound was his desire for the fairy tale we were creating."

Surreptitiously, Kaoru flattens his palms against his thighs to stop them from trembling.

"Whichever one you were, Kaoru-kun, it is because I have those memories that I can see how detrimental it will be to you if you insist on coming here when your heart isn't in it. I believe what you said, but the effect the past few days have had on you has caused you to flick through your mother's work like lowly property rather than the exquisite works of art they are. It is no credit to either of the boys I knew," she says sadly.

Her words are as torture to him; to the fragment of him that is slipping away to listen from a distance.

He gets up off the floor. "You're right, of course, Chikako-san. I haven't been approaching this task with the correct outlook. Please advise me on what I should do, and I will do my best to carry it out."

Her mouth falls slightly open. "Kaoru-kun, I'm not sure that staying in this office is good for you. I've mentioned that you should not come in tomorrow. Go home and take your mind off things for a while. I'll see you on Saturday."

"Nothing will have changed by Saturday, Chikako-san," he says levelly. "I can only rectify my mistakes if you teach me how to."

Chikako gives him a speculative look; he endures it with ease.

"It is as simple as treating every garment separately, keeping in mind that each of them is intrinsically special. Some people require training to cultivate such a stance; others are gifted with it," she counsels. "This is the attitude that every artist should have. It should not be unfamiliar to you, Kaoru-kun."

She pauses, like she's about to say something that he may not like.

These are the changes heralded by his expanding world, the changes wrought in Kaoru: he wants to hear it, even though he also thinks that he probably wouldn't like it.

And, where once he would have condemned her as a wishy-washy person due to her hesitation, now it seems like there are a great many dimensions to such a choice.

He has never been quite so sensitive to why people do the things they do; he has never deigned to understand their logic.

When he and his twin were children, everyone – especially adults – had seemed impossibly imbecilic. Maybe, it is part and parcel of growing up to realise how puerile he was too, to see that his understanding was necessarily limited by age and inexperience, and to accept that one flaw does not invalidate a person's entire character.

Chikako does say it, as he'd expected her to. "But, this attitude takes a lot of energy to maintain, so people only apply it to what they value. For example, because your sketches are important to you, you view each of them as being unique and irreplaceable. It would offend you to come across a person who believes that all fashion is interchangeable; all designs mere duplicates of what has come before. This is the trap that you must avoid falling into."

Kaoru is slightly baffled. There had been nothing particularly unpalatable to him in her statements.

"How do I do that, Chikako-san?"

"Respect," she smiles. "Respect is the only antidote."

He stares at her, willing himself to not get riled up. There's the taste of blood in his mouth from where he'd bitten his tongue to hold back a razor-sharp retort.

"I respect my mother's work, and more to the point, I respect my mother," he grinds out, unable to fully keep the coldness out of his voice.

"Of that I have no doubt," she concurs, picking up several files and moving towards the door. "Saturday, Kaoru-kun. Please rest in the meantime."

Feeling mightily cheesed off, Kaoru calls for the car and speeds off to his father's office.

He is hours early for their scheduled meet-up for dinner, but he figures he can always use his father's computers to do his research while waiting.

The office is in a state of pandemonium.

Navigating through the messy cacophony of the lower floors, he reaches the CEO's office at the apex of the building and yells, "Daddy! What's going on?!"

His unassuming, good-natured dad appears to be in the eye of the hurricane – his hair sticking up in sporadic tufts, his tie off-centre – catching a temporary breather.

"My Kaoru," he says, surprised and doting, and still finding it within himself to give a cute smile that's strongly reminiscent of Hikaru.

"What happened?" Kaoru demands as he gingerly makes his way across the cluttered expanse of the gigantic room to his father.

One of the personal assistants hurries to explain, "We have a mole in the company! That beggar boy – I knew he couldn't be trusted, the scoundrel – he infiltrated all our systems and stole all of the blueprints for our software!"

Kaoru watches in fascination as the personal assistant's face goes purple, his nostrils flared in righteous indignation.

"Have you caught him?" he asks.

"All of his details in our employee database are false!" shouts the assistant, disproportionately agitated. "He's locked us out of our Intranet! He changed all the passwords! That boy was always so scruffy and sloppy, obviously a good-for-nothing! Call HR and find me the recruitment manager who hired him!"

Kaoru snorts in disdain. How is his father going to relax with someone yapping like a rabid animal?

"Er, Hojo-kun," interrupts Kaoru's father. "I was the one."

Hojo looks like he's about to burst.

He vomits out numerous apologies in a tongue-tied jumble to cover up his gaffe and backs out of the room in a flash.

Kaoru erupts with laughter as soon as he does. "Dad, did you really hire that person or were you just trying to get rid of Hojo-san?"

His father gets a shifty look on his face.

"Both," he admits.

A fresh wave of laughter crashes over Kaoru.

"You have the worst judgment in people, Daddy," he ribs, leaning over to view the information on the multiple computer monitors. "What was the mole after? What steps are you taking to solve the problem?"

"The specs of all past, present and upcoming software have been taken. Many internal documents have also been copied into an external, untraceable source. We've gotten a start on removing the viruses and security walls that the mole introduced into our system. It's doesn't look good – we may have to replace it with a brand new program. A group of people has been sent out to catch the culprit. We're trying to keep it under wraps so that the public doesn't find out that we've lost classified information; it will be troublesome if our competitors discover that this information might be on the market."

Kaoru analyses the data on the screens and lets out a low whistle. "He's a pro."

His father laughs ruefully. "That's what I thought."

"We may be able to track him down by putting in a high bid for the information that he has," Kaoru muses.

They could pose as a rival company who's somehow gotten wind of the leak – it's clichéd but entirely believable.

"... Dad?" he asks when he doesn't receive a reply.

His father's gaze is as clear as glass. "Hmm. Hojo-kun insisted that it should be a covert operation. Actually, I don't believe that we need to worry."

"Because there isn't a need to worry!" Hojo crashes back into the room, exultant. "We've caught him, Hitachiin-sama!"

A flesh-coloured bag of bones is dragged in and deposited in front of Kaoru's father.

This person has the most unkempt mop of hair Kaoru has ever had the misfortune to see, trumping even Haruhi's peasant look. The face is obscured by shadows and dark, uncombed strands; its figure is so lanky and its limbs so spindly – might this person be malnourished? There had, after all, been a notable lack of resistance for a person who's being coerced to face the music.

"Hitachiin-sama, we should press charges against him for his criminal behaviour! Stealing and embezzling funds!" Hojo exhorts.

"The funds are untouched," Kaoru points out.

"He was going to sell the information for money! Look at him! He obviously needs the money! Moneygrubber!"

This Hojo... If Hikaru were here, he'd take him apart, piece by piece.

Kaoru is feeling an unpleasant amount of second-hand embarrassment. Hojo's conjectures are wildly off the mark – apart from Haruhi, Kaoru has never met a person with less desire for money. His abominable appearance is not a result of poverty but of choice, or of conscious lack of care. The damage that this person has wreaked on one of the country's pre-eminent software companies stand as a tribute to his skill. If money and profits were his objectives, he would have targeted the banks.

This was meant as a bravura performance.

The person clearly has a complex. He's young (Kaoru's guess is twenty-four), unquestionably a computer nerd, and Kaoru senses a kindred spirit who's bored out of his mind. It must have been terribly galling to be the underling of these tedious uncles and aunties in their cushy middle-class jobs, especially if he has that kind of nerve and élan.

Though, his looks are so stereotypical that it bowls Kaoru over. If he starts laughing, he might never stop.

"Hojo-kun, let's not jump to conclusions," Kaoru's father says soothingly.

In an instant, he understands that his dad knew all along– he wouldn't have risked actual harm coming to the company, but he would've wanted to source for talent, would've been prepared to promote them. However, because of this person's reckless actions, working in this company is no longer a possibility for him. He'd be lucky to get off without being sued.

What a terrible pity. Everyone would benefit from having persons like that around them; in fact, Kaoru himself –

Kaoru currently has dire need of such people.

His breath catches in his throat; he hardly dares to let himself hope.

"I will decide on a suitable punishment. All of you, please leave the room."

"Hitachiin-sama – "

"At the next Board meeting, I will answer for whichever way I choose to deal with this situation," Kaoru's father reassures.

Both Hitachiins wait patiently for the subordinates to file out. Hojo is the last one to abandon his staunch objections, leaving rather sulkily.

"Daddy, I wonder if you will let me handle him," Kaoru requests.

His father turns to him, astonished, as a scoffing sound emanates from the person huddled on the floor.

Please, Kaoru begs with his eyes. He hasn't resorted to this trick for years; he's a tad rusty. Please please.

He waits for his father's almost imperceptible nod before he swings himself off the desk and plants himself in the spot directly in that person's line of sight.

"Hello."

That person is deliberately unresponsive.

"So, here's the deal: use your abilities to find out something for me, and you walk free."

Things that sound simple very rarely are. The more intelligent a person, the more keenly they know this. Yet it is precisely why they are unable to resist reacting to it, because intelligence carries an arrogance all of its own.

As predicted, the person raises his head to convey the condescension that he no doubt feels for Kaoru.

Oh.

Ohhh, definitely a complex.

Good grief. Is that Hojo wrong about everything?

"You see," Kaoru says, trying not to cackle like Renge, "The penalty for defrauding our company will most likely be imprisonment. Jail time would squander your talents even faster than the banal life you've had here, don't you think?"

Kaoru's not ridiculous enough to circle his quarry. He's watching the face closely – that is where the battle will be won and lost.

"You have something that you want to prove. You've proven yourself here, but is that sufficient to feed your ego? You'll just get hungry again," he prophesises. "Let's not beat around the bush, then. I need you to track a person down – I want to know where she's been in the past two weeks, who is accompanying her, who she's been meeting with in those places, and anywhere that she may intend to go next. Think you're up to it?"

A disgusted huff.

"I see," rasps a voice croaky with disuse. "Since I'm already a criminal, might as well get me to do your dirty work before calling the cops on me anyway?"

"No. I said, you walk free," Kaoru promises with absolute candour. It would be meaningless – not to mention tiring – to keep a person who doesn't wish to stay. What he wants is for the person to choose to come back.

Sunken, dark-rimmed eyes stare at him unwaveringly, assessing him unreservedly.

"Fine. Get me a computer."

Kaoru nearly hops around in his joy.

They move to his father's workstation; the technology welcomes the computer whiz like a long-awaited homecoming.

"The person?"

"Shido-Ootori Fuyumi," Kaoru supplies.

Raised eyebrows all around.

There is a rush of adrenaline from the person beside him – yes, he'd thought that the Ootori name might present enough of a challenge to tempt a maestro.

For an indeterminate period of time, only the clacking of the keyboard is audible.

This is an excellent trial run for the both of them. First, their compatibility must be tested. If they work well together…

"Shido Fuyumi is in Monale."

Not bad a start.

"She's been travelling a lot over the past two weeks; England, Spain, Denmark, Monale. She's alone except for personal attendants and guards. Ah! Yeah, these countries are all constitutional monarchies! She's been meeting with the royal families and various dignitaries. Doesn't look like she'll be continuing in the same vein, though. She's booked for a flight to France tonight."

The rest of the club would say that it is entirely normal that the twins idolise hackers.

To that, Kaoru can only reply: with good reason.

He claps excitedly to show his appreciation. "Amazing!"

"Tch. I could do this in kindergarten."

So the person claims, but Kaoru can see a little smile linger at the corner of the mouth.

He's dying to ask about Kyouya, to prolong the investigation, but that would be missing the forest for the trees.

"Thank you very much," he sing-songs. "We'll have to arrange for you to go overseas for a while to let the matter blow over. After the Board decides that it's useless to pursue you, you can do whatever you want. I'll buy the air ticket and contribute to a small travel fund for your miscellaneous expenses. We won't keep tabs on you."

He receives a disbelieving look for all his trouble. Undeterred, he carries out his promises at once.

"Right, that's done then," he says cheerfully, snapping his phone shut. "Here are the details of your flight and everything else that you'll need to get away. See you!"

Warily, the person reaches for the sheaf of papers he's proffering. When nothing untoward happens, the person slinks out of the doors and disappears into the gloom of nightfall.

"Ne, dad," Kaoru remarks, breaking the silence, "She's quite brilliant, eh?"

"Mhmm."

He looks askance at his father. "I have a cross-dressing friend. What's your excuse?"

"Child, your mother puts girls in boys' clothing and boys in girls' clothing so often, of course I can tell," he replies blithely.

.


.

Kaoru has free time after school.

Naturally, this means that he goes to Kyouya's house.

Today is Friday, but Kaoru isn't going to open club. If Kyouya needs the extra time to get things done, he is happy to provide it.

Contrary to what the others think, his visits are not without purpose. He never dawdles there, just stays long enough to ascertain the peripheral elements that most people miss. The household staff do not treat him as a trespasser – he can stroll around the grounds if he wants to. It is a huge privilege born out of the recurring meetings he'd had with his senior and the tacit approval of Team Kyouya.

Kaoru doesn't know to what extent Kyouya has been briefed about his presence. For some reason, he can't shake off the belief that Kyouya may actually be largely unaware of it. The windows in Kyouya's room do not face the main entrance, and Kaoru has been very cautious in keeping out of their purview. The staff are unreadable, though they are steering clear of anything that may be a nuisance.

Sometimes, when he beams at the staff, he thinks that they are rather fond of him.

Even the most circumspect of servants must exercise their powers of discernment when reporting to their employers. Could they be shielding him? If they are, they must believe this to be in their young master's best interests. If they aren't, who is hiding him from Kyouya?

In the Ootori compound, if one knows where to look, one can discover all sorts of little indicators that reveal things about its inhabitants. At the private car porch slightly off to the right is where the masters of the house alight upon arrival. There is a camouflaged panel built into the wall – the chauffeur flips the lid open and flicks a button to alert the rest of the staff about who has just returned. Likewise, at the garage there is another panel to indicate who is calling for his or her car.

This is how Kaoru always knows whether Kyouya is home.

"That...! Unbelievable! I can't even...!" he splutters at his twin as soon as he crosses the threshold into their room.

Hikaru twitches half-heartedly from where he's lazing on their bed. "Kaoru, you're noisy."

"Arrrgh!"

He strides over to his side drawer, takes out his hoard of sketchbooks and leaves for the atelier.

Plan! He will plan! He's going to draft a hell of a project that will work all of them to the bone!

"What's up with you?" Hikaru asks dubiously, apparently concerned enough to rouse himself to follow Kaoru.

"All of you! Bumming around when there's no club! Hanging out with your friends like you're so free!" Kaoru snaps.

"But... we are free?" Hikaru says.

Kaoru aims a deadly glare in his direction.

"Waaoow, Kaoru, you're scary."

He sets out the outline of the activities he has in mind – he has some authority to designate tasks these days, right? He's going to assign Kyouya the job of opening club, and Tamaki the job of closing club. That way, he wouldn't ever assume that they are inundated with work and unable to attend.

Hikaru wraps his arms around Kaoru's waist and peers over his shoulder. "Hah?! What's this?!"

"A plan!"

In one swift movement, Hikaru wrestles the pen out of his grip and compels him to turn around, trapping him against the table. "No, really, what?"

"If all of you are so carefree, then we should have gone to club! So I'm organising the next few sessions so that everyone will have plenty to do!"

Hikaru places his hand on Kaoru's forehead. "Are you sick?"

Kaoru bats at him irritably and tries to twist himself out of his confines.

"What the... Did Kyouya-senpai scold you or something? Hey! That hurts!"

Kaoru snorts. "No, he was having too much fun. That's why I say, I shouldn't have cancelled club!"

Hikaru's vise grip on him slackens with surprise, and Kaoru darts away.

"Fun? Can you tell me the whole story so I can stop asking!" Hikaru presses, exasperated.

Kaoru snatches his book and pen back from his brother and sits down on the opposite edge of the table to resume his work. "There's nothing to tell. Kyouya-senpai was at home and Tono was with him. I heard them laughing and enjoying themselves from the open window, but I guess Kyouya-senpai was too busy to entertain more guests since they still won't let me in."

Hikaru sighs deeply. "Ne, Kaoru, you... "

"What?" he says defensively.

"Just don't go there anymore!" Hikaru implores. "Those two – actually, I don't know how Tono's family situation is like now. It seems like it's okay, but who knows? Everyone cares about them but it's not a good idea to get involved in other people's family matters."

"Who's talking about Tono?! I was – "

"I know, I know. You're talking about Kyouya-senpai. But isn't that situation even worse? Tono's family caused a gigantic explosion but we managed to survive it. Who's to say we'll survive another time? At least with those Suous, Tono had that wish and he did a lot of crazy things to bring his family together. The Ootoris are different. Even though Tono is really dumb, he's not black-hearted like them! Kyouya-senpai's family is like a chain of landmines that's buried where nobody knows. What if you accidentally step on one of them? Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai don't want you to keep going there, and I think they're right, Kaoru."

He gapes at his twin, stunned.

"If you don't stop looking at me like that, I'm going to start feeling insulted," Hikaru says flatly.

"No, idiot!" Kaoru yelps, delivering a smack to said idiot's head. "I, of all people, know how clever you are! It's just – you mean the senpais – they disagree – as in – ugh! Don't the rest of you think that this is why we must stay with Kyouya-senpai?! He is a strong person, but that's no reason to refuse additional support!"

Hikaru blinks at him owlishly. "Let Tono support him! It's Kyouya-senpai. You're out of your depth, Kaoru."

He draws in a rattling, unsteady breath. Everything that his twin is saying makes a lot of sense. He's never seen it from this angle before – why hadn't he?

"Am... Am I a busybody?"

In the next moment he finds himself crushed tightly against Hikaru.

"God, Kaoru," his twin murmurs into his ear. "You're so stupid."

It's only been approximately four hours since he was last hugged by these familiar arms, but he misses it all the time; craves it with every waking thought – his first and best protection, his indestructible fortress, his safest sanctuary.

"Hikaru..."

Hikaru pulls back and drops a soft kiss on his lips.

"Stop working, please? We'll spend the day together – just like old times."

.


.

This is his last day with Chikako before Ren takes him back under her wing.

Rejuvenated by Hikaru's love, Kaoru tackles his tasks without delay. Concentration and respect come to him easily when he can feel Hikaru. Adult life seems to introduce a lot of sewage into their special twin channel, clogging and polluting it unless it is constantly monitored and repaired. They've cleared the blockage – the warm presence surrounds him, giving him energy and strength.

"You've done well," Chikako approves.

Kaoru inclines his head.

"Work hard, Kaoru-kun," she advises. "You'll go far."

He bows to her in acknowledgement of her guidance over the course of the week, and departs for Haruhi's apartment.

Chikako is returning to France with the batches of clothing in a week's time. They're not on the best of terms with each other. Her understanding of him seems to surpass the understanding he has of her, and that leaves him floundering when they interact.

It's like with Haruhi, on a far more uncomfortable scale. He adores Haruhi still, presumably he always will, but for the most part, it's not easy for him to correctly peg her psyche – the exact route that she takes to reach her destinations confounds him more often than not. Haruhi has goals but she's not fanatical; she's been wronged but she does not resent.

As much as he can, he tries to excise her from his daily consciousness. They need to live out this year, and her absence is a bottomless chasm that can't be filled. It's not fair to her; nevertheless he does it because she is indisputably the most well-adjusted member of their gang. The irony does not escape him – she is also their newest and poorest.

Each of them, in their own way, needs her.

She is the personification of contentment and equilibrium. She controls what she has, and accepts what she can't control. And maybe that's why they all cannot help but gravitate towards her – because,

In the cruellest joke of the universe, she has what they cannot have, is what they cannot be.

"Ranka-papa!" he chirps winsomely when the door opens.

Kaoru is certain that Ranka's liking of him has tripled since his appointment as Parent Liaison Officer.

"Kaoru-kun!" Ranka trills, ushering him in with delight. "How are you? How is everyone? How is Kyouya-kun?"

On his own accord, he visits Haruhi's father periodically so that he wouldn't have to potter about in the empty flat in desolation. That first phone call, Ranka had sounded so downtrodden that Kaoru had been overcome with pity. It's no hardship for Kaoru; a car makes everything convenient – even as he attempts to forget his best friend he nonetheless watches over the things she most cares about.

"Great! Everyone is doing great! How are you, Ranka-papa? Have you been eating three meals a day? Been keeping too many late nights? You know Haruhi will get angry with you if you don't take care of yourself!"

Ranka flushes, all buttered up by his concern.

"Don't worry about me, don't worry! My Haruhi just sent me an email and some photos; come and see, Kaoru-kun!"

His arm is seized by this overenthusiastic father, and he's hauled to where the laptop is.

Haruhi smiles out of the screen at him.

Her hairstyle has changed! There are highlights in her hair! It looks way more feminine now. Who in the world could have brought her to a salon and coaxed her into it?

Suddenly feeling weak-kneed, he slides down into a crouch with as much grace as he can muster. How can he fight an enemy he doesn't know? He'd kept his worries dormant, unwilling to let himself speculate about what they'd do if Haruhi finds new friends and decides to stay in America.

Their faith that she will be restored to them has been sustaining them.

Kaoru should have shelved his pain and kept an eye on things. Hikaru's been in charge of their joint email since he's been too busy or too depressed to do much else – and anyway, Haruhi is constantly reluctant to send photographs to them. They've had to go by the written word to estimate how she's doing; in English, no less. Haruhi insists on sending her emails in a language that has cultural and colloquial nuances she has yet to grasp, making her sound formal and stilted at times. He doesn't know what sort of ideas she's got in her head about how they're going to use her photos. Her opinions of them can be so offensive sometimes!

"My Haruhi!" Ranka gushes. "Isn't she perfect?"

Yes, she is.

It occurs to Kaoru that all defeat is dishonourable.

With his mind he summons memories of her sitting beside him in class, of her confusion and her elation, her practised cooking and her bargain clothes. With his eyes he traces her slender silhouette, her self-possessed stance, her unaffected expressions.

He feels ashamed for looking at her although his thoughts are by no means filthy.

Actually, even before everything, Kaoru had known that it would never have worked out between them. It had nothing to do with other competitors vying for her attention, one of whom being the person dearest to him. Kyouya had only been partially right in his guess about Kaoru's motivations for giving her up.

The complete truth is that he'd had a self-revelation – a realisation that he couldn't live like that. Haruhi's obliviousness and bluntness make her invulnerable in a way that he is not. He'd tested her on their date to the amusement park; worn his feelings on his sleeve and tried to see if she would pick up on it. She caught most of the auxiliary signals but not the most vital one: the fact that he and Hikaru liked her romantically. What it tells him is: had they become a couple, their relationship would have been fundamentally imbalanced – she would always have the power to leave while he would never have been able to, and eventually the emotional turmoil would have driven him mad.

Her independence – so admirable a trait – clashes with his inclination to stick like superglue to the ones he loves.

If Hikaru is 10% meaner than him, then he supposes he's 10% more clingy than Hikaru. He'd noticed this unappealing facet of himself when he was three, and had subsequently learnt how to tuck it away where it could not interfere. It had come to the fore when he'd so genuinely fancied Haruhi – he thinks it must be fancy and not love, for if it had been love, wouldn't he have surrendered himself regardless?

"Ne, ne, Kaoru-kun!" Ranka chatters. "I know that all of you boys have very stressful lives! If you want, I can prepare some home-cooked food and we can have dinner together! Of course my cooking is not as good as my Haruhi's – oh! Or we can ask Misuzu-chi to make the food! That'll be nice! I'm sure Kyouya-kun could use a break. Except I don't want that pervert here, we'll have to leave him out."

This is not the first time that Ranka has made such a proposition. Ranka seems to have decided that Kaoru's new status gives him a range of powers to be exercised at his discretion, and has repeatedly extended invitations to him to conduct club meetings on the premises. Each time, Kaoru readily agrees to stop by with the others. He's not lying but he's not in a position to call the shots – he says it mainly to mitigate Ranka's sorrow.

Once… fine, twice – the palpable loneliness of this person before him had bothered him so much that he'd bolted to wherever Hikaru had happened to be, clutching at his twin like a lifeline to save himself from the vicious fear that had threatened to devour him.

Ranka is unaware of the effect that he has on people when he rhapsodises about Haruhi, unaware that Kaoru had once taken a liking to his daughter; he tells Kaoru about Haruhi's history and preferences, and Kaoru listens to it all even though it makes him feel almost physically ill to think of how he could have incorporated this knowledge to pursue Haruhi differently.

Kaoru would have told her that he's spent his life chasing after his mother's shadow, too.

Things like: the way he feels when his mother effortlessly identifies the designer of any article of clothing, its fashion house, its year, its collection but comes home after 6 months and calls him Hikaru; the way his early design sketches were exclusively to please her; that he requested his current spiky haircut to increase his resemblance to her; that he prank-called the offices in the hopes that she'd get fed up and admonish them so he could hear her voice; that, unlike Tamaki, he's run to the airport thousands, millions of times for his mother; and, most of all – how it's like to have a mother that's as dead as Haruhi's, only his gets resurrected every half a year and it's so excruciating that in his lowest moments he'd wished she would just depart for good.

Would Haruhi have liked him then? Thought of him as capable of connecting with her, believed him to be as courageous as Tamaki? It'd been a breeze to play the martyr since he had known he hadn't a prayer of being with her. If reciprocation hadn't been so unattainable, could he have reverted to friendship so coolly?

Kyouya would've been so disappointed in him for second-guessing himself.

"Ranka-papa," Kaoru says, bracing himself for the inevitable, "I have to go now. We'll visit some other time."

Without exception, Ranka always tries to keep him longer. It results in a dragged-out slugfest between the two of them, feinting and kicking and including everything from uppercuts to hooks to straight rights or lefts as Kaoru crawls out of the house and Ranka goes for the knockout like a champion boxer – it's totally brutal.

Kaoru's getting good at dogfights.

He makes it into his car at last, sagging like a sack of potatoes.

As he is chauffeured away, he remembers Haruhi's unresisting hand in his, remembers that she has made her choice, remembers that they are friends before they are anything else, and feels... okay.

.


.

7 November 2010.
Sunday.

Kaoru hasn't been to the Ootori house since his talk with Hikaru.

The twins are frittering their time away magnificently, testing one computer game after another and syncing their souls together through their special channel.

His phone rings. It is an unknown caller; how odd.

"Hitachiin Kaoru?"

This scratchy voice...

Kaoru breaks into the widest grin of his life. "Yes, speaking."

"So, here's the deal."

.


.

Continued in Part B.