Tuesday 2nd May 2014, 12:47

Kasanoda Syndicate

We ate with a ravenous hunger, teeth gnashing ceaselessly as we eagerly devoured the food we had so graciously been provided. At such a rate, we were finished quickly - especially due to the limited serving the syndicate could spare. As we waited for the rest to empty their plates, I sat and watched the different faces all around me. The fear was unanimous; though chatter sounded about the room, the underlying panic of uncertainly lingered like a dense cloud above our heads.

I felt a kind of discomfort inside me, like that of being watched, and turned my head in the direction from which I thought it came. I saw nobody looking at me, however, only Mori with his dark grey eyes fixed sternly upon the floor beneath his crossed legs. I looked away again, focussing on nothing in particular, unaware that it had in fact been another pair of grey eyes that had been watching me.

"Is everyone done?"

I looked up to see Kasanoda now standing, surveying the room.

"Nobody wants seconds, or…?" He shrugged, but we mostly shook our heads - Tamaki had to smack Hikaru on the arm for nodding readily. "Right, okay, well… Thanks for the chow - Asamita-san, Korami-san, great work in the kitchen!" The two men beamed, bowing their heads almost in unison.

"You're most welcome, young lord!" they intoned.

"Hirano-san, would you mind helping clear up with a few others?" he asked a balding man beside him.

"With pleasure, young lord!"

Almost instantly a number of hands flew into the air, then joined by still more, and a chorus of, "I volunteer! I volunteer, young lord!" began to ring.

"Alright, um… Temetsu-san, Tsukaru-san, and… yeah, okay, you can help as well, Yuroko-san."

"Thank you, young lord!"

Kasanoda's mouth twitched fractionally, his cheeks going a little pink at the reception of his order. He mussed a hand through his hair, awkwardly shifting his weight from one leg to the other as the men began bustling about and picking up plates. He looked rather like a child lost in a supermarket, bobbing about and not really wanting to cause too much of a fuss. It was as I watched him, offering to help and stepping bashfully backward when he was declined, that I thought how genuinely sweet he was; he knew every one of these fifty-odd men by name, and all of them had such authentic respect and liking of him. Even though he was master of the house he sat and ate with them, and felt awkward about issuing orders without pitching in his good turn too. He viewed himself as their equal, and they as his friends. I was glad to be counted as one of those friends, as it once again proved to me that - even in the dazzling and overbearing world of material appearances - you should never, not once, judge a book by its cover.

"Thank you," I said as my plate was whisked away from me, leaving me cross-legged on the floor surrounded by hurrying feet and legs belonging to the many other men that had decided to pitch in and help as well. Feeling distinctly in the way I clambered to my feet but, attempting to shift myself out of the swarm, succeeded only in being knocked aside by a man carrying an inordinately large rice cooker. I stumbled sideways, almost pushing over the person I fell into.

"Watch where you're - Haruhi?"

"Sorry, Kyoya!" I mumbled, peeling myself off the second year and making sure I had a firm footing on the ground. "Rice cooker…"

"It's fine," he replied, pushing the glasses higher up the bridge of his thin, straight nose. "Just don't make a habit of it, okay?"

"Okay," I conceded, not quite catching his brief smile as I turned away and craned my neck to see if Kasanoda had moved. I'd resolved to go over to him and express my previous thanks face to face, rather than from opposing sides of a bathroom door. Seeing that he was where he had ever been, I made about sliding through the rushing layers of bodies to reach him on the other side of the room. "Hey."

"Oh - Haruhi!" he said, surprised to find me beside him. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to thank you again," I answered, continuing quickly as he made to speak against me, "Properly, that is."

"You don't need - "

"Yes, I really do," I pressed, taking hold of his wrist and pulling him back to look at me as he prepared to move on. His eyes fell on me, though not looking directly into mine; his cheeks redder than usual, he maintained firm focus of a spot just left of my shoulder. "Please don't be so self-deprecating. You honestly don't understand how important you are - to all of us." His blush intensified, as did his determination not to look me in the eye. I lowered my voice, placing stress on every word. "You're saving our lives by taking us in, and that's an overbearingly big decision but nobody wanted to deny you. So many people love you so much, they'd do anything if they thought it made you happy, and…" His eyes momentarily flicked away, gazing out at the men of the syndicate as they bustled about jovially and handed around plates and cutlery. "I'm so glad to be one of those people."

He wasn't quite capable of a smile, nor any kind of verbal response - rather he just stood there seeming rather shell-shocked, his brain seeming to work in overdrive behind his dark brown eyes. His already heavy brows were furrowed deeply, as though finding it difficult to comprehend the compliment I had just paid.

Just as I let go of him, he took hold of my hand and began leading me quickly away and out into the corridor.

"What are you - "

He pushed open a door with his shoulder and pulled me inside.

"Kasanoda-kun - "

"Just - "

Before I understood what was happening I'd been pulled into a bear-like hug, my face pressed into his shoulder and my arms pinioned to my sides. I could almost feel him shaking, though not quite. I wondered whether or not he may have been crying.

"Kasanoda-kun…" I said softly, and he released me.

"S-Sorry…" he said feebly, stepping back and turning away slightly. "I just… didn't want to do that with everyone watching, y'know?"

"Why?"

"Dunno, really…" he shrugged, scraping the floor with his toe. "Just…"

"It's okay to be shy."

"I know, it's… Don't worry."

I smiled a little. His cheeks flushed, making his face almost match the colour of his bright red hair. For a moment he didn't say anything.

"D'you really mean what you said?"

"Of course I do. And more."

"R-Right…"

"I mean, I didn't even mention how charitable you are to give us so much of your water, and food, and clothes, and - "

"Do they fit, by the way?" he interrupted, seemingly finding a little more of his voice.

"What?"

"The clothes, I mean - do they fit? Only, I don't know if I have any smaller for you - and I'm really sorry if that's the case, I just - "

"They're fine," I assured him, holding up my hands to silence him. "Thank you." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Though… the boots. They're not yours, are they? Your feet are way bigger than mine."

"Oh, um…" He looked at me sheepishly. "Those are actually… my mom's."

"Will she mind if I'm borrowing them?" I asked. "I don't want to be a nuisance if I'm living on your charity…" He didn't saying anything for a moment, looking away at a random patch of floor. His fists clenched.

"She won't mind…" he said quietly.

"Really? That's awfully nice of - "

"She's dead."

"I - oh…" He nodded sadly, and I shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry."

"S'alright…" he shrugged, subconsciously rubbing a hand up and down his arm. "She died when I was little - guess you could say I've had a while to get over it…"

I didn't respond, bowing my head slightly and clasping my hands together before me. I watched my fingers for a while, writhing against one another as I fidgeted without thinking.

"You never really get over it though, do you?" I asked under my breath, and I saw him look at me out the corner of my eye. I looked up, catching his eye for the first time. "My mom died ten years ago, and it still seems so impossible to me. Some days I forget it happened, and others…" I let out a deep breath, clenching my fingers together tightly. "Ten years, and I still feel like I'll never heal."

"You… I never knew…" he whispered, and I gave him a thin smile. "I'm sorry."

"I don't understand why people apologise for death," I said, "I never have. It's not anyone's fault, especially in accidental cases."

"You mean…?"

"Car accident," I sighed, turning my eyes away. There was a short silence.

"Mine too."

I looked at him and our eyes met once again, and this time I saw a new kind of expression within them - something between intrigue and sadness.

"Really?" I asked, and he nodded.

"She was on her motorcycle, and it was dark and rainy. A traffic light wasn't working, or it was delayed, or - something…" I frowned, suddenly deep in thought. Odd as it seemed, the mention of the traffic light sounded almost familiar to me. "Some guy driving a van got impatient and sped through just as mom decided to do the same, and… he didn't stop." He paused, his eyes darkening as they lowered to the ground. "She swerved, skidded, and crashed. A pedestrian ran out to help her, but because of the weather they didn't see the van losing control too. They both went under, but neither came back up again."

His voice cracked by just a fraction, but it was enough. I turned my eyes upward again to see his brimming with tears, though he seemed determined not to let them fall. I was barely conscious that mine, too, were watering - though I was more than aware of why they would be.

"That…" I whispered, staring up at him. "That was my mom - she was… that pedestrian." His eyes widened in shock, and I felt a tear slide down my cheek. "She was on her way to work - I walk by that same set of traffic lights almost every day on the way to school. It never works, it hasn't for years." My voice was suddenly much higher than it usually was. "Dad's been complaining about it not working ever since she - I mean, he - oh, God…" I put my hands to my eyes, forcing my knuckles deep into my sockets to force myself to dispel the tears. I didn't want to cry, but every time I thought of mom I got sad - and now that I'd lost dad too it seemed hopeless.

"I literally told myself half an hour ago that I wouldn't get like this…!" I choked, shaking my hands and breathing deeply to try and calm myself. "I'm sorry - I don't mean to be so - "

"It's okay," he said in a hushed tone, and I felt his rough hand upon my shoulder. "Kyoya told me about your dad - you've been through a damn load more than what I could deal with, Fujioka. You won't feel so bad after you get some proper rest. You're just overwhelmed…" In answer I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly. He patted my head almost with embarrassment, then wrapped his wiry arms about my shoulders and swayed me gently, his chin resting on the crown of my head. "You're gonna be safe here, Fujioka. And you're gonna be happy." He planted the tiniest of kisses upon my hair. "I promise."

Dammnnnnn 3 chapters in a month!? Illuminati confirmed