I hope you like the new chapter.
The distressed maid peered at the bloodied collar of the shirt of Ootori-sama's son. She permitted an audible, fearful gulp and folded the woolen garment, putting it in the laundry basket in her hand. Her hands were shaking as she was sorting out the other clothes the young master had put aside for washing. She had worked in this household for more than ten years and knew the horrific secret her employer's son had. He was an attractive, young man even more handsome than his elder brothers, and those men were certainly good-looking. She might have been a little advanced in the years, but even her body tingled with excitement when she looked at them. The youngest child of the family not only inherited Ootori-sama's masculine features, but he also possessed his mother's grace and elegance. And while she couldn't deny that the child was handsome, she always felt terrified of him.
He was ice cold and had a domineering presence. His face always unemotional and guarded. He was more detached than the rest of the family and was reticent about his interests and affairs. It was always difficult to guess what kind of mood he had and even more difficult to deduce if he approved of something or hated it. He was courteous but aloof and formal. He never let any emotions slip on his face and was always in control of his every move. The workers at home feared him. Some of them knew that he was not a human entirely and feared him immensely.
He never did anything to earn such fear, but people were scared of those who were different, and this young man was extremely different. The household personnel wasn't allowed to speak about his condition, and everyone feared Ootori-sama anyways and wouldn't divulge anything accidentally. The patriarch of Ootori family wasn't someone anyone would dare to meddle with. He was a ruthless man, with a heart of iron and steel and no empathy towards those who might wrong him. It was enough warning for anyone to entertain even the idea of talking to the press about what was going around in the Ootori estate.
Youngest Ootori Kyoya-sama was reserved, very clean and neat, and maybe that's why the expression on the maid's face was the one of a panic. She had never seen anything on his clothes, not even trace of ink that his elder brothers had in their own time when they were high school students. Seeing drops of crimson red blood on the starched collar of his white shirt terrified the woman. The stains were fresh, and her heart started to beat faster. Did he drink someone's blood?
He was careful, shrewd; if he drunk someone's blood, there wouldn't be such stains, unless, he did it hastily, unplanned, with a certain force that didn't allow him to care about his tidy appearance. The woman's body froze, and she scowled at the unpleasant way cold sweat coated her skin. She grabbed the basket and walked out of his room. She didn't want him to catch her with the bloodied over-garment in her hands. She didn't even want to think what would happen if he did. But as she was about to leave the wing of the house, she came face to face with the man.
His dark hair well brushed and styled, his perfect nose, bearing the glasses that hid his emotionless eyes and distracted the viewer. He was pale, but not in his usual sick way. No, today he looked very much normal. She would even say she noticed some glitter in his lifeless eyes. Her heart started to beat faster and faster as she stared at him, imagining what he might have done to be so animated. When he reached her, he gave her a perfect, respectful bow and walked to his room, without saying a word. Her stomach curled, and she hurried to leave.
She was too scared to show the shirt to anyone else, even Ootori-sama's wife. She needed to go to the laundry room and bleach the stain as soon as possible; before anyone would sniffle around. No, this young man wasn't someone she wanted to be at odds with. She had seen him eat at the table day and night the food he threw up with a face that didn't indicate any emotion. He was not Yoshio-sama, he was far more dangerous. They say only a fool doesn't fear those who don't flinch when they are hurt. Yoshio-sama was very harsh with the boy, but Kyoya Ootori didn't seem to break down in front of his father.
"You are too despotic with him, tosama," she heard Saori-sama's voice and stopped.
She was in her husband's study and seemed to be arguing with him. The woman never stepped out of the line, she knew her place and was always obedient to her husband and his wishes. The very rare times she dared to argue was about their children and Yoshio-sama's dictatorial behaviour towards them. She still remembered how the pretty woman was pleading her husband not to force their daughter into the arranged marriage. But Yoshio-sama wasn't a softhearted person who gave into emotion. He was determined, and that drove him to his goals.
The maid put the basket on the floor and started to dust around, so she could eavesdrop on them without getting caught on the security cameras for doing something suspicious.
"Saori, please, don't make a drama," Ootori patriarch's voice was low, relaxed as if he was trying to persuade something silly to leave him alone. "I have so much work to do, and you are distracting me. Kyoya is not a child. You are forgetting that your son is sick, and everything I am doing is for his own good."
"He needs your love," the wife protested. "And I don't think it's for his own good to try unverified medication."
"Saori," the man's tone dropped until it became icy cold, "you are putting too much thought in that pretty head of yours. Leave these matters to my consideration and busy yourself with things that concern you."
"He is my son, too," the woman cried, raising her voice, but it faltered. "I apologize, tosama, but you have to understand that I..."
Yoshio-sama sighed, "Please, Saori, I already have a headache. Don't make it worse. Have Kyoya to be called here. I need to talk to him."
The maid immediately went away from the door, dusting objects far from the door to ensure she wouldn't bump into mistress Saori. She swept the duster over the antique ornaments adorning the surface of rococo style Encoignure with mother-of-pearl inlay and mounted in gilded bronze. Yoshio-sama had collected expensive, historically prominent Lacquerware at various auctions. His collections included pieces from Ryukuu islands that were distinguished by their crimson colour and use of inlaid seashells. She pushed the laundry basket to the side to make sure Saori-sama wouldn't see the sight of it.
But when the woman walked out of her husband's study, the deep, mournful expression in her eyes declared that she wouldn't notice anything at all. She looked broken. The maid stared at her with sympathy and then bowed politely. It took Saori a moment to realize that she was spoken to, she raised her head and seeing the made there, squirmed in discomfort that she had let the weakness to take over her face. Her husband would have frowned with disgust.
"Did Kyoya already return, Miwa-san?" she asked, straightening her posture to a considerable degree.
"Yes, I had seen him on his way to his private quarters. Would you like me to call him?"
She looked up the stairs and shook her head, "No," she said. "I will do it myself."
At moments like this Ootori Saori, a woman who had always been envied for the position and status she had taken in society by her peers, felt really weak and helpless. When it came to defending her children against her husband, she always failed. Yoshio had a way of holding things together and making sure no one strayed from his plan. He had everything under his control any given moment, and that eliminated any possibility of her having any opinion. She always felt her husband knew the best about their children's future and choices, but today the conversation with her husband didn't reassure her.
She didn't know how to tell Kyoya that his mother was unable to make everything stop and couldn't protect him at all. Just before her eyes her son was dying a very painful death; he was starving․ She could see it every day in his desperate eyes and tired face. She couldn't watch him and not feel her heart ache. And no matter how much she had tried to convince Yoshio to let Kyoya be; the man wasn't ready to let go, he wanted to "fix" his son. He couldn't accept him to be something unnatural and horrid.
The very little blood he had allowed him to have, he didn't consider a proper thing a concerned parent would do for his son, but a temporary solution until he found a way to cure him. And now the man wanted to take away that little blood that allowed their son to function at all. He wanted to cut that little oxygen he had because Kyoya had refused to try the sketchy medications they were working on with Yuuichi. To manipulate the boy like that, to leave him no room for a decision was outright cruel, and she felt terrible for not stopping all of it.
She didn't know how she was going to face him after that. Her small steps took her to her son's bedroom. Her thin fingers cloaked the knob, she leaned against it, trying to hear any sound coming from the inside, not wanting to disturb the young man, and then she knocked. She heard his son's voice, inviting him. She hadn't been inside his room after he graduated from middle school. Kyoya like all the men in the family kept to himself and didn't like being intruded.
He had stood up when she walked in and bowed gracefully. It didn't seem he was surprised to see her. But she rarely understood what her boys were thinking. Their faces were always taciturn―little was written on them. The heavy curtains had dimmed the light inside, but she still could clearly see her son's face. To her surprise, he looked completely healthy and very much normal. She knew that Yoshio didn't give him any blood today.
"How are you doing, mother?" he asked politely.
The corners of her mouth turned down, but she immediately forced a smile, "I am good," she mumbled, "your father wants to talk to you."
Kyoya nodded and put aside the book he was holding. It was a novel by Hiroki Hirayama, a recent edition, Saori recognized from the cover. She stiffened when he walked towards the door. He didn't know yet that Yoshio planned to cut the little supply of blood he had allowed him to have. She knew it would come as a shock, even for her strong-willed son. She needed to warn him, at least.
"Kyoya-kun," she stopped him, "your father... he is... he wants you to try the treatment that Yuuichi-kun works on and..."
"He will not give me any blood," Kyoya said flatly, "I know. I have already reached to that conclusion." The woman's face whitened, and she swallowed hard. "Don't worry, mother," Kyoya bowed again and left the room. Saori gripped the sides of her dress. She wishes she was a stronger person.
Kyoya expected that his father would take immediate action after his refusal. He was not a fool to believe that Yoshio Ootori would just let him be when he refused to undergo the treatment. He knew his father very well, and he had declined his offer, knowing how the man will try to manipulate him into it. He just didn't like the idea of his mother being upset over it. He sighed as he approached his study, wondering how his father will try to maneuver the situation.
Yoshio Ootori was sitting at his desk, working on some documents with concentration, but his shoulders were relaxed, and his face bore a neutral expression. He raised his head to meet his son after he walked and greeted him politely. Yoshio averted his eyes, staring back to the pile of documents on his desk and then shot a glance straight back at him, realizing that something was off about his son. He narrowed his eyes as he reviewed the slight changes he noticed.
"Mother has told me you wanted to see me, father," he said, coming forward.
"Yes," Yoshio said, and the corner of his mouth twitched, "it's about your future and the honour of our family."
Kyoya sat down in front of the older man and crossed his legs elegantly. His face had a natural tint, and his eyes were bright. His son looked a little too good for him not to become suspicious. He sighed and threw the documents into the bin and got up from his seat. He was overthinking, perhaps; the stress of the work and his wife's nagging had given him a headache.
"I don't think I can continue to provide you with blood, Kyoya," Yoshio said, crossing his arms behind his back. "It's unethical to use the donor blood in such manner."
Unethical? His mind came up with million reasons that it was unethical for his father to use deceit in order to achieve his goal. He knew that Yoshio Ootori didn't consider anything of unethical as they successfully could serve his purposes. He smiled, showing his strange long teeth that he preferred to keep hidden. He was genuinely amused that his father thought he would agree if starved him. Something stubborn in him that never existed suddenly woke up and demanded to refuse whatever his father would say.
It's just blood. I have plenty. I would have had the same reaction if you were bleeding to death and needed someone's blood. I would have given you my blood then.
Her words for some reason came to mind. A mere stranger willing to share her blood that was so sweet, drove him crazy. And here was standing a man, his father, who called it unethical to give him blood sample from a hospital, left by willing people. She was right, he was very much any other patient in need of blood.
"I think it would for the best if you agree to start the medication," Yoshio continued, "Kyoya, you are not a child anymore. You should make important decisions about your life."
He stood up, "I am sorry, father," he said, "if I can, I don't want to try any treatment. The food isn't my only problem. At this point, medication can't help me. And there isn't any research done for this disease in the field of genetic disorders."
Yoshio scowled, but nodded, "take your time to think about it," he said in a way as if saying he was sure he would be back.
After the short conversation with his father, he sat in his room motionless, trying to understand his side, but he found he just didn't want to see his side. Very few things bothered him in life at all, and one of those things was his father's lack of acknowledgement. He was the odd one―the rose with thorns and no petals. Spending another sleepless night, in the morning he headed to school without stopping to have breakfast with the family. This was the second day in a row he was missing the breakfast. He didn't stop to greet them either like he usually would do.
The chill air brushed against his face, although Kyoya didn't feel it. Tachibana-san gave him a concerned look but didn't say anything. He drove the car slowly, the roads were frozen, and there was a huge traffic. It was almost frustrating how they were moving millimeter by millimeter. Kyoya opened the window and stared at the grey, lifeless sky above. At least, he could look up he thought frustrated.
At school, he noticed Renge Houshakuji, but she was alone, the honour student wasn't around. He looked at her, wondering why she was alone. But then the Morinozuka Takashi walked out of the classroom with his cousin, and Kyoya realized that the girl was waiting for him.
"And you claim she is not in your taste, Kyoya-kun," Tamaki Suoh appeared out of nowhere, "you keep staring at her in the hallways. Don't deny it."
Kyoya resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He gave his blonde classmate a reserved bow and greeted. "Good morning, Suoh-san," he said politely.
The blonde gripped his chin, looked towards the redhead and then at Kyoya and smiled triumphantly, "seems like host club has a new mission."
Whatever this new mission was Kyoya hoped it didn't involve him. Going by the content look on Suoh Tamaki's face he had planned something grandiose. The blonde cut the distance between them, and his smell caressed Kyoya's nostrils. Kyoya closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. He smelled good, but now that he had tasted the blood of that small-framed girl his brain didn't respond to anyone else's alluring smell; even something as savory and rich as this quirky guy's smell didn't sway him. He had developed a sort of relationship with Suoh, where he would tag himself along whenever he would catch him alone.
"It's getting colder," the guy complained, shifting his bag, "I hope the decorations will arrive before the ball. You know the ball you have promised to come."
He didn't promise. Kyoya looked at the guy sideways and raised an eyebrow. It was hard to keep up with Suoh's imagination.
A/N-I always wonder how to write Kyoya's mother as there is no real information about her. I tend to think she would be timid and shy. Considering Kyoya's not so sweet opinions on how women are weak and defenseless. And generally by how Yoshio Ootori was shown to act in the original story. And we always got to see more forceful women in the manga, like Tamaki's grandmother, or twins' mother. I hope you don't mind this kind of characterization. Please review your impressions of the chapter. I hope to post next chapter just as soon as this one.