"Shouji…shouji…"
Kyoya muttered to himself, repeating her name over and over again as he twirled his pencil between his fingers.
For Kyoya, yesterday had passed like a blur (both due to his literal lack of optical utensils and his figurative lack of focus), and such an occurrence wasn't to be taken lightly when it came to the host club's normally meticulous and calculated Shadow King. Of course, if he was being honest, what it all came down to was that girl who had appeared at the host club after school yesterday with her cherry-tinted lips and cinnamon-scented curls that he could just sink his whole face into.
Judging by her non-standard issue shimmery white blouse and flowy black skirt, she had most definitely not been an Ouran student, and had probably even been older than him. (What, maybe 18? 19? 20?) Nonetheless, when she had come over to sit next to him on the host club's 18th century baroque-padded chairs at the back of a luminously-lit Music Room 3, she had rendered him, if not entirely speechless, at least a completely and utterly thought-jumbled fool unable to think straight.
Of course, now that he was alone in his room again, Kyoya had returned to his usual calm and collected demeanor, able to talk again and easily pull up his file on the Shouji family's history from the meticulously organized filing cabinet of his brain.
As he began pacing the length of his room, he silently recited it to himself.
The Shoujis: owners of Shouji General, one of Japan's leading oil companies. Only rose to prominence in the last generation, but have already established industry connections that allow them to associate in Japan's premier social circles. Nanako Shouji: only daughter of Mr. Shouji, currently 19 years of age. Net worth: over 20 million yen set aside for her in her family's trust fund. Total assets: over 200 billion yen to be inherited should she take over her father's company. Currently living in Tokyo, but rumored to be studying under a private tutor so she could travel with her family…
Hmmmm, I wonder whether she's part of a marriage arrangement yet…Kyoya's thoughts drifted as he absent-mindedly toyed with a trinket on his bedside table. It was just a turtle made out of tiny cowrie shells that Fuyumi had gotten him on her honeymoon, but it somehow comforted him to have it on his otherwise plain and utilitarian bedside. Ah, it was so like Fuyumi to get him something so small and merit-less, he mused, setting it down to pace around again.
Ow! Kyoya was shaken out of his reverie as he jammed his toe into the side of his bed. He had jammed it hard. Jumping up and down on one leg, he cradled his throbbing foot as a dozen foul thoughts flitted across his mind. Damn these stupid square-edged bed frames, he cursed. And damn the world of well-visioned people, too, he added for good measure, though it made no sense.
Sighing, he sat down at his desk again, where he would no longer be a hazard to himself or society. Checking his inbox on his PineApple laptop, his brow furrowed at seeing it was still empty. Although he had contacted his optician's shop the previous morning, he had yet to receive a reply.
No matter. He could still read basic numerals and kanji without his glasses on. Massaging his throbbing foot, he turned back to his task at hand, squinting at the sheet of dancing lines and variables before him. He tried to remind himself that he had to do his homework to maintain his number 1 rank, usually the only motivation he needed to get to work, but today he couldn't even bring himself to pick up his pencil again. It seemed that no matter what he did, his mind was still lingering on the events of yesterday afternoon.
Ughh. He groaned inwardly. Why was it that ever since that Nanako girl had showed up in his life, he couldn't stop acting like an idiot in front of her? And why was it that what should have been a nice, relaxing afternoon away from the crazy antics of the host club was becoming just as disastrous and infuriating as if they had been here?
Knock. Knock. Kyoya was shaken out his thoughts for the second time that day by a knock on his door.
Whew. He took a deep breath to collect himself so he would at least appear put together before his household staff.
"Yes, come in," he called as he straightened his shirt, looking to the door as it creaked open.
An average-sized woman with a graying bun and straight-stick posture stood on the other side.
"Master Kyoya," his head maid bowed. "Miss Nanako-sama has just arrived."