Chapter 3

Mari grew up in a loving family. Two siblings: an older brother, and a younger sister. Parents who provided her with more than enough opportunity. Family vacations to Europe, to the Americas, and around the Pacific. Their real estate business was booming and was on track for even greater growth.

It attracted the attention of other families, of course. Enough such that her brother was set to inherit the family business and suddenly his marriage prospects were higher than ever.

"Do you like her?" Mari asked.

"Yeah, she's very nice," Kanda answered while adjusting his tie. "It would be good for both our families."

Mari blinked. "Yeah, business would be good. But... are you happy?" she pressed on. Her brother was finishing up his last year of university. He was 5 years older than her. Kanda was a good brother. He looked out for her, took her out for food, watched movies, went to her concerts, and hung out with her whenever he had the time. Only now, time was scarce for him. Mari felt like Kanda had outgrown her many years ago.

Kanda laughed. "She's sweet, and very pretty. We've known each other since we were in Ouran and get along nicely. I don't know what else I could ask for."

Mari felt uneasy about her brother's arranged marriage. She had only met his fiancée a handful of times. The younger sister could confirm that her future sister-in-law was kind, smart, and fit the cookie-cutter standard of being a wonderful addition to the family for the rich. Her family was far from famous, but Mari wouldn't be surprised if Kanda took the name of their family to even greater heights.

"I don't know either," Mari sighed. "I just… don't like rules."

"You never did," Kanda smiled. "Don't worry too much, Mari. I'm happy. Emi is a good fit for me, and our family."

"Yeah, I know," the younger sister nodded. "She's lovely."

Mari fiddled with the skirt of her dress, wondering if her hair was alright. Her nails were done nicely, of course. Her eyelashes weighed heavily on top of her eyes, nearly blurring her vision with the pile of fake hairs that she was told would open up the eyes by the makeup artist.

"You really are happy though, right?" Mari asked again to her brother who was in the midst of putting on the cuff links of his suit. It was his engagement party.

"Yes," he reassured again. Kanda smiled at his little sister for her concern. "Mari, I've always wanted to inherit the company. Emi is just another part of the process and we both have a mutual understanding."

"But… do you… love her?" the younger sister felt so stupid saying the word out loud.

The older brother shrugged. "In due time, I suppose I will learn to love her."

Mari looked down at the skirt of her blush pink chiffon dress. It would flow beautifully in the wind on the beaches of the resort in Okinawa. But they were indoors, in heavy AC, and her hair was probably falling apart from all times she touched it.

"Okay," Mari sighed, feeling defeated for some reason. "Alright. Let's go celebrate your engagement."


Kyouya sat back at the resort of the beach in Okinawa, watching his friends try to scare Haruhi at the prize of middle school photos that he had found through a little bit of digging online. He steered the Host Club clear of the reception area of the resort due to an event, making sure that all of the shenanigans were outdoors on the sandy beach.

It was some engagement party – not surprising, given the summer months and that his family's high-class resort was a great venue for such events. The Ootori squinted closer to the names. In celebration of Emi Asahi and Kanda Takuya, he read off the signage in front of the banquet hall.

The Asahi family had a significant amount of developments that rivaled the Takuya family. It was a strategic move on both their companies.

It dawned upon him that it was the same Takuya family that Mari was a part of. He shuddered to himself. He had enough of her at school as is, and to see her outside of the classroom was something he preferred to avoid. Kyouya stepped outside, letting the event unravel on its own. The staff of the resort was more than capable at keeping things running smoothly.

The Ootori settled in an area for gold star members, reserved for the highest paying patrons. It was an outdoor lounge that overlooked the beach, giving him a full view of the rest of the members of the Host Club. He sat on the patio at a table all for himself, a large umbrella provided comfortable shade for him and his cup of black coffee that he enjoyed immensely on his own.

Peace and quiet.

Just how he liked it.

I searched for you in a place where light can't reach
Even if I can't really support you, I'll still make you smile

His ears perked up at the singing voice. Kyouya looked around the area, finding no one around him. Strange, he thought to himself. The voice continued, softly at first and with more volume as the song progressed. He quietly got up from his seat, automatically drawn to the melody.

He could see the figure, their back leaning against the beach chair tilted to a comfortable angle. He squinted to find sunglasses perched on top of their head as they enjoyed the shade beneath the umbrella. Their legs were spread across the length of the comfortable padding, crossed at the ankles. High strappy heels were carelessly kicked to the side.

The Ootori cleared his throat as he approached the mystery person from the back.

"This area is for gold star members only."

"Holy shit," they jumped, obviously not expecting someone to interrupt their time. Sunglasses fell off the top of their head as the person scrambled to sit upright.

He made eye contact with her brown eyes, the fierce look was something he would never fail to recognize. It was her.

"What are you doing here?" Mari narrowed her eyes. God, why was he everywhere? She couldn't even last one month without seeing the boy outside of class. As if being lab partners wasn't enough punishment to begin with.
"I believe I should be asking you that question," the Ootori raised an eyebrow.

"What? Like your family owns this place or something?!" Mari groaned.

The Ootori was unamused. "My family does own the resort."

Mari blinked. "Well then." She aggressively took out the gold member card that doubled as her hotel room key. "Here. Happy?"

The Ootori perched his glasses up his nose after glancing at her proof of payment. "Shouldn't you be at your brother's engagement party?"

Mari put the card back into her cardholder and crossed her arms. "I did my part," she answered. She played a piano piece. People clapped. They commented on how much she had grown. Then Mari left because the heels were killing her feet. No one cared about the middle child, really.

"Don't you have to go babysit your friends?" Mari rolled her eyes. She could see them running across the beach, yelling at each other and playfully dunking their heads in the water. "Well, I guess this view helps you keep an eye on all five of them."

Kyouya blinked. "Five?"

"Yeah, I don't see Haruhi," Mari answered, squinting her eyes across the horizon. "Did you lose a kid?"

The Ootori didn't answer.

"Well shit," the girl chuckled. "What a terrible parent you are, I guess." Mari crossed her arms and leaned back on the chair. There was a few minutes of silence from the Ootori before Mari sat upright and began looking for Haruhi as well. It wasn't often that the Ootori was worried, if his silence and lack of offense was of any indication. Mari had never seen this side to the Shadow King. The girl stepped into the sunlight, shielding her eyes from the rays with her hand.

"Is she on that cliff?" Mari pointed out.

The Ootori stood beside Mari, also squinting in an attempt to see what was going on.

"Is she getting thrown off the cliff?! Go help her," the girl jabbed the Ootori's arm. "Help your friend."

Kyouya watched as Tamaki dove into the sea to rescue their commoner friend. "Seems like Tamaki is on it."

Mari narrowed her eyes. "Couldn't you be more concerned about Haruhi? Send a first aid team, at least."

The two watched the ruckus unfold. Haruhi recovered just fine, though both of them watched as Tamaki fought over Haruhi's recklessness. Mari shook her head.

"At least she's okay," she murmured.
"Tamaki was right," the Ootori admitted. "She shouldn't have been so careless."

"She was doing the right thing," Mari argued.

"Doing the right thing doesn't mean you have to do it in a stupid manner," Kyouya argued back. "We were all concerned."

Mari blinked and looked up at him. He was dressed in a regular dress shirt with casual khaki shorts. Sometimes it was hard to remember he was human, and even worse, the fact that he had actual friends who cared about him and vice versa. It was so much easier to just hate him for what he was. Mari refused to let this one incident change her opinion on the Shadow King. He was still an obnoxious asshole.

"What?" he narrowed his eyes when he noticed her staring up at him.

"Nothing," Mari looked away. Her sunglasses were somewhere on the ground and Mari desperately needed them while the sun was in her eyes.

"Were you enjoying the view?" he smirked.

Mari found her sunglasses and threw them at Kyouya. "What view?"

He caught them easily before they hit his chest. "This is assault. I have a private police force too, you know."

"Well, I sure hope they provide better customer service than you," Mari snarled. "Kicking out a gold-star member out of the lounge is unacceptable."

"My apologies," he sarcastically responded. "Allow me to provide you a complementary half hour of hosting."

"Oh god," Mari rolled her eyes. "Please spare me."

The Ootori smirked to himself.

"Can you get me a coffee though?" Mari quietly asked, testing the waters. She could use some caffeine. There was another reception in the evening. "Charge it to my card, or whatever. Thank goodness I can afford your ridiculous prices."

The Ootori raised an eyebrow. He could get her a coffee. Redemption for what she considered poor customer service. "How do you take your coffee?" He gestured to the service person that worked at the desk of the lounge.

"Black," Mari answered.

Kyouya raised an eyebrow in surprise. He always assumed that she dumped a ridiculous amount of sugar and cream – the uncultured way to drink coffee. Two cups of their finest dark roast coffee came within 10 minutes. He handed it to her gingerly from the servicer, unsure of how she would react. Mari looked at him with widened eyes, surprised at the fact that he actually fulfilled her request. They locked eyes for a brief moment, both weary of this brief truce.

"Thank you," she softly said. Her fingers met his as he passed off the coffee to her. Mari took a small sip. Her shoulders relaxed at the first sip of coffee, and her eyes closed at the full bodied flavour. It was delicious.

Kyouya blinked and tilted his head at her in confusion. He had always known her to be so unpredictable, hot-headed, and irritated. Her eyelashes fluttered with her lids as she took another sip. A part of him had to admit that she was pretty, but only when she wasn't busy throwing icy glares at him.

"Good quality coffee. You're forgiven," Mari quietly told him. "I'll finish this cup and I'll be on my way. I won't bother you." She was after all, a reasonable person – and who knows, maybe going back to the engagement party wouldn't be so terrible. She could slip into the background without any issue.

Kyouya exhaled. He couldn't technically do that to a paying customer.

"It's fine, you are allowed to stay," the Ootori grumbled, looking away to the horizon of the beach. He took a sip of his second cup of coffee.

"You aren't so bad," Mari admitted. "When you care, I mean. But I've only seen you care about people a grand total of one time, so. Who knows. Maybe this is the nicest you'll ever be to me."

"I don't care," he denied, narrowing his eyes.

Mari raised an eyebrow at him. "Whatever."

The Ootori put down his coffee. He shifted to another topic. "Why did you leave your brother's engagement party?"

"My feet were killing me," Mari answered nonchalantly. "See?" She wiggled her toes in freedom. Her toenails were painted white to contrast against the grey leather heels. He looked at her in disgust.

"Unladylike," he rolled his eyes. "No wonder why you were kicked out of the party."

Mari took another sip of her coffee to calm down. He got you a coffee. Let him live today. The pianist shot him a glare instead and rolled her eyes.

"I just hope he's making the right choice," she admitted.

"It's a good business move," the Ootori offered in comfort.

Mari sighed. "Is that all there is to life? Rules to follow? Good business ventures? The whole process of marriage seems like a waste of time if you are only going to do it for a business partnership."

"That's just how the world works," Kyouya scoffed. "Learn to play the game, Mari."

Mari.

Kyouya accidentally let go of the honorifics. The Ootori bit his tongue. He couldn't take it back now. The girl noticed, of course.

"Kyouya," she tested the name cautiously.

He raised an eyebrow at her. He didn't bite at the dropped honorific, either.

"Alright then," she shrugged. "I can live with that."

The Ootori exhaled in relaxation, drinking more of his coffee. They weren't that close. But they did survive a semester of being lab partners, and she was satisfactory as one. He was unbearable with his stupidly annoying habits of being a perfectionist, and she often missed the small details in their reports but they worked well enough to score the top grade in the class.

"You look nice," Kyouya smoothly diverted the topic and reverting into his regular host attitude. The skirt of her dress flowed in the wind, revealing her legs and bare feet. He cringed at the fact that she walked around in just her feet. Thank goodness his resort was spotlessly clean. Her hair was in a loose bun, and her makeup was done flawlessly. "You know, when you clean up and dress less like a commoner."

Mari bit her tongue. She forgot how annoying he could be with his backhanded compliments. "I prefer comfort over style."

"Doesn't reflect well on your family's reputation," the Ootori pointed out.

Mari chuckled. "I'm the middle child. People forget I exist. I'm not too worried about my family's reputation. Kanda has that part covered."

She had a point there. Mari had no chance of being the heiress to the family's business, even if she tried. She was a girl. Her main talent was playing the piano. She was much more suited as a marriage prospect than an heiress.

"Hey, don't you have a fiancée?" Mari smirked, diverting the attention back to the host. It was the talk of the school before summer vacation. "Where's Renge?" The girl looked around, half-expecting the girl to pop up out of nowhere.

The Ootori pursed his lips and shot her a glare. "She's not my fiancée. Just some… lunatic," he shuddered. "Would rather be married to a rock than her."

"Honestly, you'd be the rock," the pianist pointed out. "You're boring."

"Whatever," the Ootori grumbled. "Being a CEO is more exciting than being a professional pianist."

Mari scoffed. "Who says I'll end up being a pianist forever?" They were back to their bickering selves.

"Well, you are internationally acclaimed," Kyouya pointed out. "You turned professional last year when you played with the Tokyo Orchestra."
"How did you know that?" the pianist blinked. Sure, she had a music scholarship but Mari never told anyone about her achievements. She was invited back again this summer, for the last month of their summer vacation.

"I know a lot of things, Mari," the Ootori smiled devilishly.

She didn't question it. The Ootori was certainly more capable than she was on many levels. They only fought because he was an asshole for a good majority of high school, and he was nothing more than every other rich snob.

But this was likely the longest conversation they ever had without wanting to gut each other's throats. Mari likened it to the coffee, it had to be a mutual appreciation for the coffee that somehow calmed both of them down and increased their tolerance for each other.

"There's no guarantee that you'll be CEO either," Mari murmured. "Right?" As the third son of the Ootori family, he had a long way to go. Everyone knew this.

The Ootori took a sip of his coffee, refusing to answer that question.

"I believe in you," Mari quietly told him. "Even if you are an asshole most of the time. And don't get me wrong, you're still a bastard. But you work hard." She spent a semester working with him, after all. His intelligence was a by product of his determination and work ethic. Mari had to sacrifice studying for practicing the piano, but her academic standards were nowhere near as stringent as his.

"I don't need it," the Ootori brushed off.

"Wow, okay—" Mari rolled her eyes, taking offense. "Forgive me for trying to encourage you against an uphill battle," the sarcasm in her voice dripped with every word. She almost forgot that she still hated him with every fibre of her body.

"You don't have to fight for what you want. Your life is simple," he rolled his eyes at her. "You'll never understand."

Mari let those words sink in.

"My life is simple because I am an afterthought," Mari corrected. It wasn't like he would understand being forgotten – especially as an Ootori. He had the eyes of the entire country on him, especially those in the world of business. "I have all the freedom in the world to be whatever I want to be and no one would care."

"And what do you want to be?" Kyouya asked.

He was met with silence.

"I don't know yet," Mari sighed. "Was hoping to cross that bridge when the time comes."

"Soon," Kyouya reminded. They were going into their last year of high school.

"Yeah. BBA at Harvard for you?" Mari guessed.

The Ootori raised an eyebrow.

"My brother is graduating from the same program," the pianist explained. "Not surprising that you would be interested in it too."

"Oh." Of course, that made sense. Such an obvious reason and Kyouya missed it. He sounded rather dumb before he moved onto shifting the topic to her. "Julliard for you then?"

Mari sighed again. Something about that path unsettled her. "Yeah. That would be the logical step, I suppose."

She was a musician. He was a businessman. Their paths were already carved out for them. And maybe, that was all she was meant to be.


Summer break was 2 months long. It gave Mari plenty of time to perfect her craft, with lessons that spanned three times a week. They were long and intense, but they prepared her well for every performance. They had been preparing since January, after all.

Mari made a decent amount of money playing with the orchestra over the summer. It was a brief stint, a couple weeks long – but people paid good money to listen to the orchestra and she could not complain. It was a job that passed the time, and quite frankly, Mari did not mind it one bit.

Like a robot, Mari was trained to play her concertos with the utmost accuracy and precision. It was in the middle of practice before her phone vibrated against the polished wood. The pianist ignored it at first, hoping to finish the end of the movement before taking a look but her concentration had already been broken and she missed the next beat.

"Hello?" Mari picked up the phone near the end of its span of ringing.

"I can't," the voice wailed. Sobbing on the other line.

"What?" the teenager looked at her phone. It was from an unknown number. "What do you mean?"

"You'll," Hiccup. More sniffling. A struggle to catch their breath. "Be fine," they stuttered.

The teenager blinked. "Louise?"

"Goodbye."

Mari took a few seconds before she bolted out the door of the performance centre. She hopped on the nearest subway station and ran. Within an hour, Mari was at her mentor's doorstep, ringing the doorbell frantically.

"Please open the door," Mari pleaded. "Just let me know you're in there."

Oh my god, what do I do? She thought to herself.

Mari tried again. She banged more aggressively on the door. She called for her teacher. Mari tried her mentor's cell phone. No answer. She dialled the unknown number that called her.

She could hear the faint ringing of a landline indoors.

Mari took a deep breath. What was the most logical thing to do?

She dialled an emergency line.

"What's your emergency?"

"I um, I think… I don't know for sure but – I think my teacher might not be… in the best mental state," Mari couldn't think of the right words.

"What do you mean?"

"She could be suicidal and I can't get into her house," her words jumbled together. Mari's eyes were on the verge of tears.

The teenager wondered if she could climb in through the windows. She tapped against the glass panes. No answer. She walked around the perimeter of the home – no openings. The curtains were drawn. There was no sign of anyone in there.

But she had to be, Mari thought. Louise had to be inside. She called from the landline – the number that she didn't recognize on her phone.

Mari didn't realize that dialling emergency services would entail the entire fire department, police, and ambulance. The police held her back from entering the premises after they had gotten the door open.

"We need to make sure the coast is clear."

"She isn't dangerous," Mari explained. "I was just worried for—" The girl watched as paramedics rushed into the home. "What's happening? Can someone tell me what's going on?"


Mari blinked.

"What do you mean she has no family?" she asked the nurse. Mari had never really been in a hospital. In fact, she had no idea how these things even worked. Was she allowed to sign forms? Was she now a guardian at the age of 17? That couldn't have been legal, right? Where was the adult that she needed so desperately right now?

"It is what it is," the nurse explained. "Do you know anyone?"

"Actually… no," Mari admitted. "She never talked about family, or… friends."

"May I know your relationship with the patient?"

"I'm her student."

The nurse nodded. "Are you of legal age?"

"No," Mari admitted. "I'm not."

The employee frowned. Mari was not helpful.

"Can you at least tell me what's going on?" the teenager pleaded.

"She just had her stomach pumped," the nurse sighed. "Not sure about the consequences yet, so we will just have to wait and see."

Mari nodded slowly. "How long?"

"A few more tests. Give her a few days to come around."


Mari looked at the scores that aligned the shelves.

The place was spotless. White. Grey. More white. It was eerie standing in the place of her mentor.

Louise Wagner had no family. No friends. Nobody.

No legal will. The money and her assets were stuck in limbo. Mari had no legal means of touching any of it.

It was a good thing she made money from her job then, she thought. How does one plan a funeral? Mari wondered if she could search online for it. How much did it cost?

Better yet, Mari wondered if she needed therapy. Or some kind of counselling. It didn't hit her that her mentor was legally declared brain-dead. Mari was numb. Confused. Unsure of what to feel. Empty. Scared. Sad.

What was she going to do?

Mari had no idea.

She looked around and sat at the grand piano. Of course, the bench naturally drew her in. It was familiar. The light filtered through the curtains to hit the ridge of where the music was kept. Louise kept the exact same score that Mari did, studying it on her own while Mari did the same. She cracked open the book of Czerny studies, the ones that she began playing as a young child, to find a letter.

Carry on the legacy, Mari.

- Louise


Kyouya wondered if anyone bothered to check the online bulletin boards of their school website. The new academic term rolled around and he of course, settled into this regular position as class president arriving to homeroom at the earliest time.

Music scholarship student Mari Takuya wins first place in the Yamaha National Piano Competition and will proceed to represent Japan on the International level in December. Congratulations, Mari!

Of course, the Ootori didn't expect anything less. Mari was becoming the talk of the classical music sphere. A quick online search had her name popping up with the Tokyo Orchestra, her set list for the national competition, and many articles which speculated a falling out between her and her mentor, Louise Wagner.

She slid open the homeroom doors with a scowl on her face and her travel mug in her hand. Mari was back to her usual outfit: baggy sweater, jeans, grass-stained sneakers, topped off with a loose ponytail. The Ootori wanted to groan at the eyesore. She walked to her usual seat near the back of the classroom, the waft of her black coffee tempting him.

Kyouya listened to her friends catch up with her over the summer.

"So what did you do this summer?" Mari's friend asked.

The pianist shrugged and sighed. "The usual."

"Working?"

"Yeah… working. For the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra," she clarified.

"Wow! That's so cool! You did that last year too, huh. Must be cool working in the box office or something."

Mari nodded and gave a small smile, then diverted the topic elsewhere. Her friends were not aware that she was a music scholarship student. "Tell me about your trip to Kyoto this summer, Aki."

Mari spent less time socializing and more time playing the piano during her lunches. The Ootori couldn't pinpoint what – but something about Mari had changed. The fire in her eyes was no longer directed at him. It was at everything. The quizzes that they took. The tests that they wrote. Every assignment that was handed back, she shoved them into her backpack and ran straight to the music room.

Mari's grades rivalled his by the middle of the semester. Quite frankly, the Ootori didn't think that the girl even had it in her to pull up her grades. She went from mediocre to being top 5 in their entire grade.

She was trailing behind Tamaki by half a percent. And Tamaki was only 1 percent behind him.

Mari came into their homeroom class every morning with a scowl and bags beneath her eyes that were deeper every day. Mari stayed behind later than he did after the Host Club to practice and the Ootori noticed because the piano playing felt endless.

Mari took off two weeks in December for Internationals, completing every assignment and assessment beforehand. By January, Kyouya noted another bulletin posting.

Scholarship student Mari Takuya wins first place in Vienna, representing Japan in the International Competition of Young Pianists. Congratulations, Mari!

And then, silence.

He never heard her play the piano ever again.