Chapter 26 – In the Veins
Ootori Yoshio stands with his hands behind his back beside the curved glass of his study window overlooking the circular driveway at the front of the mansion. Below, Yuuichi is exiting the house and heading towards the late-model sportscar he'd arrived in. Before getting into the vehicle, he glances up at the very window where Yoshio stands and bows in farewell. Yoshio simply nods. A good son is Yuuichi - he'll make a fine patriarch after I'm gone. Just the type of person this family needs to keep the Ootori name highly ranked among the elite.
The eldest Ootori son has just spent the last hour in his father's book-lined study, Kyoya sitting quietly on the blue divan he'd favored as a child for reading or studying, despite having a bedroom suite larger than many homes. The house is quiet on a Sunday night, or it should be. Fuyumi and Hiroshi had come for dinner, just as they do every weekend, to allow Yoshio to see Kenshin, his grandson, but the toddler's bedtime meant leaving at a reasonable hour.
Yet, as soon as Fuyumi heard about her younger brother's episode, she called in a panic and insisted on returning, which Yoshio forbade as impractical and unnecessary. The patriarch stands now, like a king in a castle turret, surveying his domain and pondering his legacy.
I have four children. Two of them are successful, having followed my advice and living by the guidelines I set for them. Akito has fallen into line, at last, and once he's married, he'll settle down further. As for the other two? He huffs to himself. Fuyumi is bright, but sentimental, a potential head of one of the Ootori Group's smaller subsidiaries, in time. Instead, she married young and had a child. Hiroshi is tolerable and Kenshin is a fine boy, but I expected more from my daughter. Kyoya is the brightest of them all, but I never quite know what he's thinking and he only listens to my words marginally. If only Kazu hadn't spoiled him.
Yoshio watches Yuuichi's car disappear behind the copse of bare ginko trees that shield the house from the rest of the winding drive that makes its way through a quarter-mile of parklike property before hitting the immense iron gates that define the entrance at the main road. Privacy from the world-at-large is achieved at a high cost and yet, somehow, the media always manages to invade mine. Damn journalists and their nosiness - gossip columnists or otherwise. What kind of damage control will I have to do next?
He turns and heads to the mahogany desk his father had commissioned decades before, running his fingers over the warm hand-finished wood from Africa, the desktop inlaid with leather, jade and ivory. He likes to keep his desktop clear of clutter except for his laptop, his favorite cognac and a simple reading lamp.
The rest of the study is elegant, reflecting shibui style that blends modern and antique furnishings, along with relics from the Ootori history - the most valuable being an ancient manuscript written by a forebear on the care and treatment of illnesses afflicting the imperial household. The family tree is rife with members of historical note in the fields of medicine and business, Yoshio's lineage stemming from the latter.
In addition to the artifacts that fill and decorate the shelves that line the entire room are his books, each one read cover to cover on all manner of subjects. And it is in this room where he would often find Kyoya in his boyhood, reading anything and everything he could get his hands on. And so it was allowed, even when no one else was permitted in this, his sacrosanct domain…
"Kyoya, what are you reading today?"
The large-eyed boy looks up from the thick book in his lap. He is no more than eight, but already reading well-beyond his grade-level. Yoshio sees the book is about world religions.
"Father, how can there be so many different ways of thinking, yet each one claims to be the only truth?"
"What do you think of that?"
"I think it's confusing."
"Which is why the wise man learns about them all."
"To learn which one is true?"
"To learn how people think, my son. Knowing what a person believes without question is the key to influencing them."
"I see, but I have a question."
"About?"
"The Bible."
"Ah. Last week it was the Koran, wasn't it? So, what is your question?"
"Mother says it's a path, but it doesn't make sense."
"Where does it fail you? Stand and tell me your analysis."
The boy sets the book aside and stands upright with his hands at his side. "The Christian book says the creator knows all yet created man and woman with free-will."
"And?"
"They fail, but if the creator knows everything, the creator knew they would fail all along. How can that be free-will?"
"An excellent question, Kyoya. What do you think?"
"I think I need to consider this more."
"Then do so and we'll speak again when you're ready."
Kyoya was given privileges to read any book in his father's library provided he cared for the book properly, read it completely and could provide his sire with a summary of what he read, to the best of his ability. In that regard, he never disappointed.
Certainly, he's surpassed his brothers at similar ages, though I'll never say so aloud. Such a fine mind, but capricious. It's the Suoh boy that's his downfall. Who'd have thought he could sway my youngest from the course I'd plotted and he'd followed without question - until they met. Had I known… And tonight, that capriciousness has caused many people to be put out of their way. It cannot be tolerated.
Yoshio turns to face his son, who seems paler than usual, though this doesn't surprise. Perhaps tomorrow will be better for an extended chat. There are still facts to be gathered about his weekend activities.
"Kyoya," he begins and watches his son's eyes lift to his. They're brownish-gray, like his own. Kyoya resembles his father more than any of his other children, but that's where the similarities between father and son end. What goes on in that head of yours? "There are several things we need to discuss, but after your episode earlier this evening, I don't want to belabor things with you right now. You have school tomorrow."
"Yes, Father. I have no intention of missing that." Kyoya rises and faces his sire before pushing his glasses back. "I've apologized to Yuuichi for taking him away from his patients at the hospital because of my lack of foresight. I will apologize to Akito shortly and to Fuyumi, tomorrow, for causing needless worry."
"Anything else?"
Kyoya pauses and takes in a breath through his nose, holding it a second before releasing some tension, eyes narrowing only the tiniest bit with annoyance he dare not display. "And to you, sir, for intruding on your evening. I know you like to catch up on your reading on Sunday nights and I'm sure you will remain awake until your requirement is met."
"Indeed. One must never shirk one's responsibilities, Kyoya, either to oneself or to others." Yoshio waits and watches for his son's reaction to that statement knowing that his children, like most of Tokyo society, know more about his personal life than Yoshio prefers. Sheer will and audacity carried him above the latest scandal and he's been more careful since. At least they're no longer children and, certainly, the boys should understand a man's needs.
oOoOo
Self-discipline and host training keep Kyoya from rolling his eyes at the hypocrisy that spills from his father's lips, but reacting would simply make the man the victor of the latest battle in a subtle war that's raged between them over the last year. Yes, you're a responsible man in business but you've failed in your obligation to my mother more than once and so, to all of us. Am I the only one disturbed by this?
Yoshio says nothing further, but simply turns away, their meeting over. Kyoya squares his shoulders and leaves the study, making his way to the second floor of the enormous house and into the wing where his bedroom is located. Akito's wing lay at the opposite end of the long corridor that separates their suites, his door ajar, light spilling onto the vintage Chinese runner lining the hallway.
He pauses and reverses direction, heading towards the open door and entering the suite. Like his own, it's bi-level, but opposite in layout, Akito preferring to keep his sleeping quarters below and everything else above. Both areas are impossible for the maids to keep tidy as his brother is prone to leaving things wherever they end up when he's done with them.
It's nearly midnight and instead of sleeping, Akito is sitting cross-legged in a pair of flannel pajama pants, surrounded by textbooks and papers, his laptop appropriately sitting in his lap and the eyeglasses he only wears at home, perched on the end of his nose. Kyoya pauses and leans one shoulder against the wall, trying to determine if he should interrupt his brother's studies or simply go to bed.
He's about to follow his second thought when Akito finally says, without looking up, "Where were you tonight? Fuyumi kept asking and I didn't know what to tell her."
"I was out with…a friend."
"Suoh-san? How's the idiot doing?"
"Akito," Kyoya warns with a sharp look. Pissed as I may be at Tamaki, he's still my best friend. And why are you playing coy, brother? You already know who I was with from Yuuichi.
The second eldest Ootori looks up at his younger brother and grins, knowing just how to push Kyoya's buttons. He's been doing it for years. "Why you stick with that crazy guy is beyond me. I know Father put you up to it, but you could have ditched him long ago."
Kyoya enters the room, sloughing off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair. As he approaches Akito's bed, he stops to drop his head onto one shoulder, then the other listening to the crackling that sounds release. "Tamaki and I are friends. You understand friendship, don't you?"
Akito shrugs. "An illusory experience, if you ask me, especially when you're in graduate school trying to secure the top spot. Nobody is your friend, then - just your competition."
Kyoya sits down on the mattress on the side farthest from his brother, turning at the waist to continue their conversation. "Since when? I thought you found competition irritating."
"C'mon, Brother. You know better than anyone that it's exciting, especially when you know you're going to win. And we always do." Akito puts his laptop aside and lights a cigarette.
Kyoya waves away the blue smoke that wafts his way. "You know," he says, "for a smart guy, you're a dumbass."
"My lungs, my choice. So how is Suoh-san? Still nipping at your heels for Top of the Class?" Akito's brow wrinkles at the way Kyoya grows pensive. "What is it?"
"I wasn't with Tamaki and you know that."
"Ye-ah, I do. So…has Piano Man been replaced?"
"Not replaced," Kyoya answers quickly, then pauses. "I had a date."
Akito's eyes light up. "Re-allly? I'm proud of you, Kyo. I wondered for awhile. Thought you kept all those adoring girls at arm's length to be mys-terrr-ious." He draws out the last word.
Kyoya actually rolls his eyes then. "Don't be an asshole." And just what do you mean by you wondered for awhile?
Akito takes another long drag then snuffs out the cancerstick in a cut-crystal bowl beside the bed. He shifts onto his side, extending his legs and casually pushing his textbooks towards the bottom of the bed, his head propped on his fist. The younger Ootori falls onto his back with his hands behind his head, staring at the trompe l'oeil ceiling that gives the impression of a dome. Neither of them speak and Kyoya's nose takes in the lingering odor of burnt tobacco. He tried smoking once for the experience, but found it unpalatable. Still, the scent is intriguing.
"So what's she like? Did you score?" comes his brother's voice after a few silent seconds of simple companionship.
"Unlike you, Akito, I don't pounce."
"But you wanted to, eh? You just don't want to admit it."
Kyoya's head shifts slightly to see his brother's eyes. "She's a nice girl and we had a nice evening, even if it was short-circuited at the end."
"No goodnight kiss, then?" Akito gives a little moue.
Wouldn't you love to know? Kyoya says nothing about his exploratory afternoon with Haruhi, but his expression must be tell-tale.
Akito regards him with a wry smile and says, "So that's how it is." He leans forward, his head nearing his brother's. "Didn't mean to offend. What's her name?"
"Haruhi." Kyoya pauses, considering their agreement to keep her gender secret. But what's the point after tonight? "She's a 1st-year honor student."
"Sounds about right. Who are her parents?"
"Does that matter?"
"You know it does…" Akito's voice trails off and Kyoya waits, already knowing what's going to be said next. "We have to be careful about how we come across to people."
Kyoya rolls onto his side, mirroring in reverse his brother's position. His voice remains low, but his ire is clear. "And why is that? Why do we have to be model citizens when our father behaves badly? Are we supposed to be some sort of redeeming factor - the Ootori boys, perfect in every way? I'm really sick of it."
"It is what it is. Let it go. The situation has been over for awhile and our mother has forgiven him."
"Again." The frustrated surrender in Kyoya's voice is obvious.
"She always does."
The conversation has turned uncomfortable and their parents' incongruous, albeit routine, behavior is a sore subject they usually avoid. Yoshio's dalliances have been a source of anger for Kyoya since he was old enough to understand the pain they caused, yet his mother continues to remain married to the man.
This is modern day Japan. No one would fault her for leaving him and she has money of her own. It doesn't make sense and I don't understand it. "Is she coming home soon?"
"Fuyumi spoke with her yesterday and she's going to stay in Switzerland a little while longer. She's always liked Interlaken. News from home reaches her in small doses and without the gossip-hounds dogging her every move."
Kyoya sits up, pushes at his glasses and looks at his brother. "What does her doctor say?"
"Ask Fuyumi. She knows the details of her treatment better than I do."
"I'll ask Yuuichi. I don't want to upset Fuyumi any more than she is already. Anyway, I'm tired and I have school tomorrow."
"No rest for the weary, eh?"
"No sympathy, either."
"That's our father."
"Indeed," Kyoya replies, icy in tone.
"He's not a monster, Kyo. Just a man."
"Don't defend his behavior by rationalizing, Akito. It's disgusting."
"Have it your way, then, and be sullen and angry with him."
"I will. I am."
"It won't change him and the bitterness only hurts you."
"How do you tolerate it? Yuuchi's silence I can buy. He has everything to gain by it and everything to lose by opposing him, but you? You should be defending our mother."
"And what do you think that will accomplish, huh? Mother has accepted this as his way and she'll never grant nor ask for a divorce. It's not her style."
"No, she just needs vacations in the Alps when things get out of hand."
"She's a grown woman and makes her own decisions."
"Are you so sure about that?"
"What are you talking about? Who else has the ability to persuade her?"
"Yuuichi, with our father's blessing."
"You should be careful when making accusations, Kyoya."
"He's a brilliant psychiatrist who's trained in Switzerland under our mother's doctor. The Ootori Family has donated millions to the facility where her personal cottage is ever at the ready. It would be simple enough for her meds to be manipulated-"
"Enough!" Akito's attitude has turned suddenly abrupt and angry.
Dammit! I've gone too far and said too much. Kyoya stands. "Forget I said anything, alright?" With his back to his brother, he adds, "I'm going to bed."
"Do you need something to help you fall asleep?"
"No, thank you. I've had enough issues surrounding medications for one day." Kyoya heads towards the door, stopping to grab his jacket off the chair.
"I'm talking herbal; something simple and pure."
Kyoya stops without turning around. "That's your remedy, not mine."
He nears the door to the corridor when he hears Akito's voice, softer and gentler calling, "Little brother?"
"What is it?"
"Are you going to see her again?"
"Who?" For a moment, Kyoya is confused.
"The girl, moron."
Kyoya turns half-way in place so Akito sees his profile. And despite his desire to stay firm in his self-righteousness, a slow unwitting smile claims him. "Yeah, I am. She still thinks I'm worthy, in spite of everything."
"That sounds promising. Let me know if there's anything I can help you with, if you know what I mean."
"Shut up, pervert."
Akito chuckles to himself and Kyoya merely shakes his head, leaving his somewhat reckless but supportive sibling behind. Akito's idea of help, of course, is supplying contraceptives, weed, and a willing ear for the juicy details - none of the above being anything Kyoya has ever or will ever ask of him, though his remark about something simple and pure resonates in his mind as he heads across the house to his own suite.
Something simple and pure would be Haruhi. As for a goodnight kiss, it didn't happen - not with Ryoji-san present, but there will be other opportunities and my memory is excellent.
As he heads towards his bedroom, his recollections begin: of Haruhi as she looked when she first opened her door this afternoon, then later dressed to the nines and later still, when her androgynous look slid into the feminine. He still hears her laughter and her scolding at dinner and can almost feel her in his arms and recall the taste of her on his lips, making him yearn for her again. How can I take it slow when I want her so badly?
He enters his suite and commands the lights to dim as he undresses, his jacket tossed onto one of the white leather sofas, followed by his pullover. The décor of the suite is far too modern for his liking, but he doesn't care enough to bother changing it. The lacquered loveseat that stands beside his wall-to-wall wardrobe upstairs is more his taste - a true antique that appeals to his visual nature and appreciation of history. There, the immaculate white shirt is laid across the back of the stylized piece, followed by trousers and socks. The Panerai is set back into its winding niche within one of the many haberdashery drawers.
He pads into the adjacent bath and strips off boxer-briefs to enter the shower stall that releases a perfectly-tempered spray onto his tired body as soon as the glass door snicks shut. As he stands beneath the soothing water, his jumbled thoughts: about Tamaki, about his family, about his studies, about the week to come and how he will manage it all are pushed aside until a single image is situated in his mind. It's Haruhi as she looked when he first saw her without the jacket, the bustier and perfectly-cut trousers hugging her modest curves.
Holding the image, he presses a hand against the marble tile and wraps the other around his already semi-erect cock. A few expert pulls and he's turgid, doing what he should have done before he'd ever left the house tonight. Images and sounds play perforce as he strokes, seeing only Haruhi and himself, naked and pressed together in his bed amidst mountains of fluffy turquoise and red blankets, his focus locked onto the sensations taking him further and deeper into his mind - memory enhancing fantasy.
Nothing matters for a while as he imagines her soft beneath him, hears the hitch of her breath and feels her heartbeat under his hand before it traces a line from her sternum downward, across the soft rise of her belly and the concave dip of her navel. Then lower, her innocence revealed in her quick response to his touch as he seeks her with fingers that caress and fondle, drawing from her soft cries of pleasure that are an aphrodisiac for him.
His hand becomes her hand on him and sensation heightens as he imagines her taking him higher. His imagination morphs the hand that slides with quick, sure movements on himself into the channel that is Haruhi's body. He strokes, despite his fatigue, needing to climax with her name on his lips, an affirmation that she is who he wants and no one and nothing else. Breath grows hard and even, fueling his mind and body as he feels the edge of climax approach and overtake him, cum spurting hot and potent into his hand and onto the tile. He prolongs it for as long as he can, mindlessly milking every last bit of seed as he almost, almost feels her body against his. His mouth is open, water dappling his spine as the spasms that grip him ebb and roll through his body in milder waves and the shower spray rinses the evidence of his desire away.
He soaps up and rinses off, fatigue now claiming him in a major way. Need sleep. Need Haruhi. Need…to talk…to Haruhi about the morning. He keeps himself awake, toweling dry and donning the pajamas folded neatly on his pillow, bedcovers turned down just as they are every night for him. Padding on bare feet back to his wardrobe, he takes the phone out of its charging bin and begins to scan messages.
Tamaki has called umpteen times, but it'll keep. I just want to hear her voice again. He crawls into the center of the bed and pulls the duvet up to his neck before settling back into the pillows at the headboard. A few swipes and he's looking at his friends' names on auto-dial, Tamaki sitting in the top spot. He regards the name with a mixture of feelings - care, concern and annoyance - then releases a breath. We'll work it out, but here's how it is. He taps on "Haruhi," then One and saves; "Tamaki" shifting into the second slot.
If only reality was as simple.
His finger is still poised above the name of the girl who has suddenly and irrevocably taken up residence in the place he's kept separate and protected for so long - his heart. His fingertip drops and he waits as the call goes through. A few unanswered rings leaves him wondering if Haruhi hasn't turned her phone off for the night or she's asleep.
It would be like her…
"Kyoya? Are you okay?" Her voice is soft, concerned, and with his bodily needs sated and fatigue dulling his defenses, he allows himself to welcome the attachment he feels growing for the girl on the other end of the line.
"I am now."
End - Chapter 26 – In the Veins
In the Veins by Semisonic [Kyoya-centric]
Red is the ocean which we ride
Carried along on a changing tide,
Blind, blind rage and pure delight
Running in the current side by side,
Waiting for whatever we haven't tried.
Baby, it's amazing all the things a self contains.
Peace is in the veins, in the veins.
Be careful what you put in there.
Be careful what you put in there.
Heaven transcendence; angels fly;
Anger and vengeance; blue, blue sky (oh);
All injected from the mind
Down in the liquid world combined
And your prescription has been signed.
Search the wild green outside and inside is what remains.
Peace is in the veins, in the veins.
Be careful what you put in there.
Wide open world there is no mind without you
And a little bit is not enough.
Wide open mind define the world about you.
And a little world is not enough.
And a little world is not enough.
Baby it's amazing all the things a self contains.
Peace is in the veins, in the veins.
Peace is in the veins, in the veins.
Be careful what you put in there. (Repeat 6x)