Chapter 4

Kyouya caught Mari coming out of the medical wing of the academy after the annual physicals. It was a profitable time for the entire Host Club, but the event had passed and Mari seemed like she had no visible injuries. Kyouya had gone over to the medical wing to ensure that Haruhi's documents were kept confidential – after all, their business plan depended on her.

"Your next appointment will be on Monday," the receptionist reminded.

"Yes, thank you," she curtly responded. Mari exited the office, running into the Ootori. They made eye contact and parted ways.

He was curious about her. They coincidentally found themselves hanging around the main gates, waiting for their ride home after a day of school. Mari leaned her back against the wall, coolly ignoring the Ootori. She was too tired to argue.

They were lab partners again, only that it was for chemistry this year. They learned to keep their bickering to a minimum – after all, they both needed high grades. It was mutually beneficial to tolerate each other.

Kyouya cleared his throat.

"Haven't seen you around the music room much," he tried.

"You just saw me at the medical wing," Mari bluntly called him out.

The Ootori nodded. "Are you alright?"

"No," Mari shook her head.

"Oh," Kyouya dumbly responded.

"Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear the answers for," Mari murmured. She learned the lesson the hard way.

"I was trying to—"

"Act concerned, I know," she cut him off. "I don't need your concern." Her voice came off colder than she intended.


"Did winning the international title bring closure?"

Mari blinked. "I don't know. Was it supposed to? Did I carry on the legacy that she had always intended? It still doesn't feel right. Why doesn't it… feel right?"

It had been months since the death of her mentor.

"Mari, I think it's because you haven't taken the time to properly grieve – you ended up distracting yourself with your school work and your piano practice instead of processing her death."

The teenager crossed her arms. "I just don't understand why my brain doesn't let me just… move on."

"The feeling of loss is—"

"Normal, I know," Mari huffed. She didn't want to cry. Not again. Not for the umpteenth time this year. "Counselling is supposed to help, or whatever. I don't know. Maybe I'm messed up. I don't know what to feel. I just know I feel like shit."


I don't need your concern.

She was infuriating, as usual. The Ootori frowned at the thought of her brushing him off. It bothered him that the one time he tried to care, she accused him of being disingenuous. He stared at the file that she sent over a few minutes ago, with her completed side of the lab report.

He had to admit, the quality of her work skyrocketed. The Ootori hardly ever found mistakes. The precision in her measurements and data analysis was on par to his. He appreciated her as a lab partner, but as a person – it made his blood boil over.

And to think that they were on decent terms over the summer – he was mistaken. They squabbled over the right methods to perform the experiments, they double, no – tripled checked each other's work because of their deep rooted distrust in one another.

But still – she was a good partner. He respected her work ethic, and she was becoming a rival to him in terms of academics. It was a little bit concerning, but nonetheless, he wasn't expecting Mari to be on his level by any means.

His curiosity itched to know what changed. What made this sudden shift into a Mari that he could no longer overlook as an academic peer?

And why did it bother him so much that she reverted back into hating him?


"I quit playing."
"You quit?" Surprise filled the counsellor's voice. It was such an integral part of his patient and to have her quit was a shock.

Mari nodded.

"Does it help to not play?"

"When I play, it reminds me of her. And then I spiral into these thoughts of feeling like I missed all these opportunities to help," she explained. "It… it wasn't healthy, as you said."

"Mari, it isn't your fault," he told her again.

"It sure feels like it," she scoffed. Mari looked out the window. It was the middle of winter. The trees were bare. The sun was shining, but it was deceptively nice. As soon as she stepped out the door, she could already feel herself shivering at the cold wind down her spine. Almost like how she felt on a daily basis – deceptively alright from the outside.

"You did everything you could."

"I didn't," Mari sighed. "Maybe if I had just… gotten there sooner. Or had seen all the signs…"

"It's never easy to spot mental illness," the adult reminded.

"I just…" the teenager's eyes welled up in tears. "I just want answers."


Mari was never perfect – and she knew it. She began understanding why the Ootori held himself to such a high standard, and his frustration at her when she was sloppy with the way she wrote her notes, or how she didn't care to follow the rules.

She only followed the rules when it came to the score. And now she had no score to follow, no music to fill her ears, no one to tell her that she wasn't doing it right.

They worked better as lab partners, silently molding their style of work to each other's strengths. By the middle of the term, it felt like they worked as though they were a well-oiled machine. He was tolerable when he was silent. Mari figured that he probably felt the same.

"Why do you take these courses?" he once asked, drying the last of their glassware at the end of their class. "You pretty much have a one-way ticket to Julliard."

Mari narrowed her eyes at him. "Julliard? What do you mean?"

"You just won the International title," he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose for the millionth time she'd seen him do it. "You don't need chemistry. Or calculus. Or physics."

The girl sighed and rolled her eyes at him. "I quit."

"What?" He was in disbelief.

Mari refused to say anything more. "I'm late. I have to go." She didn't want to dwell on the topic, especially with him.


"Am I a coward? To quit?" Mari pondered. It was a snowy day outside. It was a stressful time of year, complete with university applications and waiting to hear back. Everyone seemed to be on their toes about life after Ouran. Mari couldn't quite feel the same, not with all of the emotional turmoil broiling at the back of her mind.

"Quit what?"

"Playing the piano."

Her counsellor shrugged. "Everyone copes differently, Mari. We all do what we have to do."

"He just," Mari sighed. "He looked at me like… I had just committed blasphemy."

"Who?"

The former pianist rolled her eyes when she thought of him. "A classmate. My lab partner, actually."

"Does it matter what he thinks?"

"You're right," Mari nodded. "Yeah, he's irrelevant. Sorry. I just, I don't know. I'm okay. I think."


He didn't understand her one bit. She threw away her entire future. And for what?

Why did it drive Kyouya mad that she was doing this to herself?

It wasn't any of his business. It was her loss to be throwing away her future. It was her dumb decision. She was naïve and careless. Why did it matter to him?

And why was she always going towards the medical wing? She wasn't actually sick, was she?

Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear answers for.

Maybe he didn't want to know. Maybe he really should stop caring. Why couldn't he stop to care?

I believe in you. 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.

Her words rang true in his head. He remembered brushing off her encouragement. Just like how she brushed off his concern. They were such different people, yet somehow – she worked in such synchronization with him. It made him wonder.

Were they even friends? Why did he want to be friends? That was the real question.

You… really suck.

Why did it bother him that he was such a terrible person in her eyes?


"Mari, where have you been?"

Her commoner friends hardly saw her anymore during their free periods and during lunch.

"Oh, I've been at the library," she gave a faint smile.

"You look really… rough," Aki blinked. "Like, honestly – we thought it would pass over because of last term's finals but, are you okay?" Her friend gestured for her to sit down with them. Mari gladly took a seat.

Mari nodded. "Yeah. I'm um, just stressed over university applications." It was half true.

"Toudai? You'll make it in for sure. Your grades have been really high last term. You were ranked third in the entire grade!"

"Yeah…" Mari admitted. "I… I don't know, maybe it's not good enough? What if I want to go overseas?"

Their friends widened their eyes in response. "Overseas? Do you even qualify for scholarships overseas? It's so expensive – I could never imagine going, even if I made it."

Mari felt a pang of guilt. Her opportunities were eons greater than her friends because of her financial status. How could she tell them that money was not a problem for her? No matter how expensive tuition was, Mari knew that she would be alright as long as she made it into the school. She could only shrug and say, "I guess… it never hurts to try, right?"

Her friends congratulated her and supported her ambition. Aki wanted to study Education at Toudai to become a teacher. Misaki was applying for pre-law programs in hopes of becoming a lawyer. Kiyoko had plans to apply to journalism school. And Mari… Mari was just a blank slate. The world was her oyster, as they said.

But the world was confusing and Mari was unsure where she fit into all of it to begin with.


"I wish I got to know her better."

"Hm?"

Mari looked out the window, her legs were crossed comfortably against the office chair. She was warm in her oversized hoodie, the sleeves reaching to the middle of her palms. She had kicked off her winter boots in favour of being in her socks. Her counsellor didn't mind, it seemed. It was meant to be a safe space to talk and getting comfortable was a helpful step.

"All I knew was that she was qualified to teach me. Played with various different orchestras across the world. She was a good teacher." Mari paused. "I knew that she hated being late. Louise was a stickler for being on time, whether it was in the score or in real life. So as soon as it was even a minute past the scheduled lesson – I knew she wasn't coming."

The counsellor listened intently. "What else did you know about her?"

"She had no one."

"She had you," He suggested.

"And I didn't even realize she needed someone." Mari buried her face in her palms. It was the worst part of knowing it all. "I was so blinded by the music that I didn't even realize she was suffering silently for over a decade."

"The choices your teacher made cannot be reversed. Whether you had been there to intervene, or if you had known earlier – no one can fully say that things would have turned out differently."

The teenager sighed. A headache began to form the more she thought about it.

"You don't know that," Mari muttered, wanting to call bullshit.

"We'll never really know. None of us will know what triggered her to take her life. But you did what you could, Mari. You did what was right to the best of your ability."

"I just – why didn't she have anyone?" She was at a loss. "She had to have someone. A friend. A parent. A sibling. A… a neighbour."

"We'll never really know."

"What if I was the only reason why she kept living? And… that I… I was able to reach a level of playing where she thought I didn't need her anymore?" the teenager sobbed. "I needed her. I needed her more than anyone."

"Did you?" her counsellor handed her tissues. "You won the international title all by yourself."

Mari shook her head. "We decided on the set list a year ago, right after I had placed third."

"But you practiced without her guidance."

"She left me notes in her score," Mari croaked. "She left me everything I needed to win."

Her counselor shook his head.

"Mari, you pushed yourself to that level of precision and technique to win. She wasn't here to do it for you. Did you really need her?"


Mari woke up on the weekends feeling empty without the thought of having to practice on her mind anymore. It was her last year of high school, gosh – she deserved to have fun, didn't she? But her life was boring and her friends had no idea the kind of lifestyle she truly led. With a staff of 10 housekeepers, a chauffeur, and a private chef at home. Not to mention, the gardeners and the landscapers outside during the spring and summer months.

Mari walked past her studio with the grand piano. She had asked the housekeepers to put a sheet over the piano to prevent the dust from accumulating.

"Mari, are you sure? You aren't going to play the piano anymore?" Chiaki-san was heartbroken. He loved hearing Mari play every day for over a decade. He would sit outside the studio, listening to her fingers glide over the keys and would be at her beck and call every time she needed a glass of water, or a hot pack to keep her muscles from straining.

"Yes, please."

"But why?"

"Louise has stopped teaching me," Mari explained. "She left and… I'm tired."

Mari didn't want to bug any of her friends to hang out. They were all working on essays or studying for the next test. She too, should have been working on a lab report and studying for their calculus test next week.

"You should take some time to relax. I think the stress might cause you to spiral into a cycle of guilt and irrational thoughts." The words of her counsellor rang through her ears.

Mari sighed. What was even relaxing? Her life was just school. And now that she no longer played the piano, Mari had nothing else to do.

"Can I help around the kitchen?" Mari poked her head into the door. The private chef laughed.

"What would your parents think? They pay me to have you do my work? No, no. Go on ahead, Mari. Don't you kids go to the mall nowadays?"

Mari contemplated the idea. Well, maybe it would be a good time to get a new pair of sneakers. One that didn't have grass stains on them. Maybe better earphones because the wire had been poking through the jack. Perhaps she would get a new phone because the battery life on hers didn't really last any more than the school day with minimal use.

Mari's trip to the department store for the first time in her life was a fascination. She had always heard about her commoner friends talking about it – the sales that happened on clothes, on electronics, or even food. It was amazing how you could find everything in one place. She had only gone a handful of times, but each time was always an adventure.

What she didn't expect however, was the Shadow King sleeping on a bench by the elevator at 10:30 AM, in a commoner department store no less. Mari stood in front of the boy in awe, unsure if she was hallucinating. Mari couldn't quite understand how or why Kyouya Ootori was sleeping on a bench in a department store, but she deducted that the Host Club had to be nearby for such a thing to happen.

Well, if the Host Club was nearby – Mari figured that the Shadow King would do well on his own. The department store wasn't all that difficult to navigate. Mari left to do her own errands, beginning with finding shoes first.

Mari passed by a pottery vendor on her way back from buying earbuds. She recognized Kyouya and Haruhi standing aside to watch the man try to swindle the old woman. Mari had gone to enough art exhibitions with her mother to recognize that the pottery was far from the standard of genuine artwork and was surprised when Kyouya intervened.

He really isn't that bad of a person, Mari thought to herself.

But he's still a prick, she reminded. He once called your family's pedigree closer to the commoners than his own.

He also gave you coffee one time. Probably the best coffee you had ever tasted in your life.

And he fixed your mistake on your lab report without telling you.

He asked if you were okay after he saw you exit the medical wing.

Mari huffed.

It was so much easier to just hate him and his arrogant ass.

The teenager left to find a new phone for the first time in years and finished her trip at the department store by mid-afternoon. Mari walked towards the parking lot area, a regular pick-up spot that her chauffeur knew by now. From a distance she could see Haruhi part ways from Kyouya. The commoner was going to take the subway.

Which only left the Shadow King standing around. Mari's curiosity got the best of her and from a distance, she could tell that he was squinting in confusion to see her presence. Mari chuckled to herself, with her shopping bags in tow as she coolly walked over to greet her classmate.

"Had a nice nap by the elevators today, didn't you?"

The Shadow King narrowed his eyes and glared at the familiar face.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shopping," Mari explained, rolling her eyes. "You know, like regular people do here at department stores."

"You can just buy it online and have it shipped. It's much more efficient," the Ootori scoffed.

"Can't really have a dog shipped," Mari chuckled to herself. "Suoh-san really bought a dog, didn't he? Amazing."

"Were you just stalking us the whole day?" the Ootori accused.

"I was running errands," Mari corrected him. The Host Club had been everywhere in the department store. It was hard to miss Tamaki with a dog leashed to him.

"Don't you have people to do that?"

Mari sighed, giving up. "Yes. I do. I'm rich like you."

"Not as rich," Kyouya smirked.

The teenager crossed her arms and looked at him with disbelief. "Why do I even try to be nice to you? You always revert back to being this… snob. I don't know how Haruhi handles all 6 of you at once."

The Ootori couldn't answer that for her. He only stared at her. No makeup. She wore a winter jacket, with her hoodie poking through the back. Her jeans were far from designer, and her shoes: they were clean for the first time he'd ever seen them. She must have gotten a new pair.

"Your commoner friends have no idea that you are rich, do they?"

"No. They never asked," she tried to keep her voice neutral.

"Are you going to tell them, or are you going to keep pretending to be something you're not?" Kyouya's comment obviously made her feel uncomfortable.

"I…" Mari huffed. "Yeah. I don't know. I'll cross that bridge when I get there."

"You'll follow them to Toudai?" the Ootori was obviously not impressed.

"What if I wanted to go overseas?"

"Well, you can," Kyouya shrugged. "I won't stop you. But the admissions offices will."

Mari shot daggers at the Ootori. "You think my application wouldn't be competitive enough to make it into an Ivy League school? I'm an internationally acclaimed pianist. My grades are high. I'm trilingual. And for crying out loud: I have a better grip on reality than you."

The Ootori tilted his head. "You're trilingual?" He ignored the last part of her rant.

"German," Mari rolled her eyes. Louise had a hard time learning Japanese during the first few years of her tutelage. It was a mixture of English and German that somehow translated just fine for Mari's neuroplasticity as a young child.

"From your piano teacher, hm," Kyouya put the pieces together. "Thought you'd also be able to converse in French."

"Conversational French," Mari muttered. "I don't use it often enough."

The Ootori raised an eyebrow at her. "You're talented… and you throw it all away, for what?"

Mari relented. "I'm not talented," she softly denied.

"You are literally one of the top pianists in the world. You are trilingual. You're decently intelligent. And you want none of the money, none of the opportunities presented to you, and none of the acclaim. It's hard to comprehend, Mari."

"Decently intelligent, eh?" the teenage girl wasn't sure how to take this. Was it a compliment? An insult?

"Your grades are surprisingly high," the Ootori admitted.

Now that was offensive.

"It shouldn't come as a surprise," Mari shot back.

"You dress like a peasant, Mari. You come into our classroom like you're half-dead. Your handwriting is sloppy. You shove tests into your backpack like they're garbage. Your grades do not correlate with the way you act."

"That's because they are garbage," the teenager argued back. "Once you've seen your grade: what's done is done. What's the point? Don't tell me you frame every single stupid test you've written because each of them come back perfect."

"There would be too many to frame, Mari. Then it would just be impractical," the Ootori explained.

Mari blinked. "You're missing the point, Kyouya."

"I believe you are missing the point."

"Are you—" Mari wanted to scream in agony. "Are you serious? I was going to offer you a ride home because I thought it would be the nice thing to do but you keep reminding me of how annoying you are."

"I wasn't asking for a ride."

"I know!" Mari huffed. "You don't deserve one."

The teenagers stood by each other in silence. The Ootori sighed.

"You never answered the question."

"What question?" Mari groaned.

"Why do you throw away all your opportunities to achieve even greater success?"

Mari glared at him. It almost made him shiver at how cold she had suddenly turned.

"You think becoming a professional pianist is all I can be?"

The Ootori had to admit, he never saw her as anything else. He could see why she was offended now. Before he could open his mouth, a black SUV pulled up to the curb. Mari reached for the door handle and went straight into the vehicle without saying goodbye.


Mari stood by their lab bench watching the reaction go on as planned, noting observations down while Kyouya had gone to grab more glassware. This delicate equilibrium that they had both come to reach was always seemingly broken by Kyouya, causing Mari to explode with every shrapnel of emotion hitting Kyouya first.

It was tiring on both their ends. With Mari getting irritated by the Ootori, and Kyouya always at a loss for why he felt so wrong all the time with her. Why did he even care so much? For all he knew, he would probably never cross paths with her ever again after they graduate.

The Ootori watched as Mari noted down her observations in her messy handwriting – her short form became more distinguishable as he learned to read over the semester.

"Do you want to decant it?" Mari looked up at him with her safety glasses. He wordlessly reached for the flask and carefully poured the solution through the filter.

"I'll wash this time." Her gloved hands reached for the dirty glassware. They worked well together, and that was what Kyouya couldn't quite comprehend. She could read his mind when they did these experiments, never needing to pick up her slack by any means, and Mari was good at what she did.

Perhaps that was the most surprising part. She was good at the same classes that he took. He wondered how much more potential she had, beyond being just a musician. It made him curious.

It was the last class of the day with Kyouya heading to the music rooms after. It still boggled him that she no longer spent any time in that wing of the school. She packed up her bags and said nothing to him when their paths diverged. He wanted to say something. Ask her all the questions that he had been dying to know the answers to. But even when he did ask, she would brush him off like he was dust. Irrelevant. A nuisance.

How could she?

It riled him up just thinking about it.

He watched as she turned the corner to the medical wing.


"What if being a pianist was my peak? That's all I know how to do."

Mari sighed. She hated how the Ootori kept reminding her of what she was good at. She was only good at choreographing her fingers to play keys in a pleasant manner. Really, that was it. The counsellor flipped through their notes, taking note of Mari's most recent transcript.

"Mari, your grades are spectacular. There is no doubt that you will find your way," the counsellor reminded her.

"I'm good at taking tests," the student rolled her eyes. "It's easy to take a test. It's not easy to deal with the reality of the world."

"What do you mean?"

"No one really teaches you what the process of taking care of someone's death is like. How to hold a funeral. Or how to cremate a body," Mari half-joked. She was getting less anxious about the topic. Her chest didn't swell up in discomfort at the thought of it all. It had been months now.

The adult in the room tilted their head, unsure of how to take her last comment. But the teenager made her point clear. She was not equipped with the skills that the real world had expected her to have.

She was, after all, just a kid.

"Mari, your case is…"

"Not normal. I know. If your next line is something about dealing with trauma – save it. I've read through all the articles." The girl fidgeted with her fingers, drumming them on her knee. Her counsellor took note and sighed.

"You know, if you're itching to play again… no one's stopping you. It isn't like you aren't allowed to play the piano ever again."

The teenager shook her head.

"I don't know if I'll ever play again, really."


Mari finished her counselling session around the same time as Kyouya had stepped out into the gates of the entrance after his usual host club duties. The two waited in silence, letting the winter wind fill in the tension.

"I've sent you a draft of the lab report," Kyouya informed. He worked on it while the shenanigans of the club continued.

Mari nodded curtly. No verbal response. Her counselling session was cathartic, and Mari didn't feel the emotional turmoil that usually bubbled in her chest. She wanted this feeling to last a little longer so she tried her best to stay calm. Mari took out her phone to check the time.

"No longer the brick that you used to use…" the Ootori commented as he tried to make small talk.

Mari sighed at the attempt. "Yeah."

They reverted back to the silence, a little more comfortable now.

"Why do you keep trying?" Mari murmured. "We're… so abrasive with each other and—"

"I was trying to be polite," the Ootori gritted.

"Actually, the polite thing to do would be to acknowledge my presence and leave it at that," Mari pointed out. "I mean, I've tried with you too… but – goodness, we're just so much better as lab partners than anything else."

The Ootori had to admit that she was right.

"I don't… hate you," Mari exhaled. "I just think you can be…"

"Conceited," the Ootori suggested.

"An asshole," Mari finished at the same time.

The Ootori glared at her. Mari bit her lip.

"I mean, you're not… wrong in that sense either," the girl tried to make him feel better. Not that she was saying anything to take her words back. "It isn't like you don't think of me in the same manner."

"I didn't," Kyouya coldly answered.

"Really?" Mari chuckled. "You didn't think I was some sloppy mess of a student who miraculously pulled up their grades in the one year that it actually counts for?"

She was met with silence. Mari raised an eyebrow at him. She was right.

"You never thought of me as anyone with potential," Mari shrugged. "But I can't say… that most people really do."

The Ootori let those words sink in.

"You know, you may be the third son in the family but you already have your life lined up. You're destined for greatness, no matter what it may be. The expectation for you exceeds the ones for me by eons," the girl smiled at him softly. "So no matter where you go, or what you do – you're already ahead."

"It doesn't always mean I will reach those expectat—"

"—Oh please," she cut him off, rolling her eyes. "You have the work ethic of a mule and the ambition of the entire universe. You will succeed, even if you pretend that you won't."

Mari combed her fingers through her long hair, keeping it out of her face as the wind blew. She looked down at the ground, her shoes already scuffed by the mud. Mari contemplated her own trajectory for the future, if she had any.

"Then what about you?" Kyouya asked.

"What about me?" Mari blinked.

"Why don't you think of yourself as the same? You have the work ethic. You just don't have the ambition."

"Who says I don't have ambition?" the former pianist raised an eyebrow. Her ride had finally arrived. Mari opened the SUV door and stepped in. She poked her head through the door before shutting it completely.

"I'll be seeing you at Harvard, Kyouya."

The Ootori was left standing at the curb in disbelief. He too, had gotten his offer of admission only days ago and no one, not even the Host Club knew. It must have been a fluke – but Kyouya could not deny that they had discussed this in the previous summer at the engagement party of her brother. She intrigued him, surprised him, and challenged him unwittingly.

Mari Takuya was someone he had to admit that was special.


Mari stared at the key that she held onto for the past four years. It was probably time to give it up, especially since she hadn't stepped for into the room since December. A part of her wondered if she would ever miss it all.

The gruelling hours of playing a few measures over and over and over again until it was perfect. It was tiring and insane to a certain degree. But she stuck with it for so long, perfecting a craft that made her love the way her fingers grew to naturally glide over the keys, the smooth texture of the ebony when the tips of her fingers delicately met with the instrument.

It was early in the morning and Mari stood outside of the Second Music Room. The term was nearing an end and finals were just weeks away. Mari shuffled to find the keys that were attached to her grey lanyard, faded and fraying at the sides. She had these keys since her first year of high school.

The Steinway was exactly how she remembered it. Polished. In tune. Glistening in the sunlight. The mornings were always a struggle to get going. But with her coffee in hand, Mari would settle at the bench and crack open her score.

Now, her scores were stored in a box at home underneath her bed because she didn't want to look at them anymore. Mari still sat down on the bench, placing her cup of coffee by her feet. She played the first chord that came to mind.

I love you

So I don't need to worry about anything

My darling, Stay gold

Smile innocently for me forever

Words just flowed from her mouth. It was a song that Mari had just been listening to on her way to school. It had been stuck in her head for some time now.

"No one is stopping you from playing again, Mari. It was such an integral part of you, and to shut it away… it's a coping mechanism. But coping isn't the same as healing. Just try it again. Let it be a form of expression. I hope it's cathartic for you."

Mari took her counsellor's words to heart. Her fingers naturally gliding once again, figuring out the chords to the contemporary song. Mari sung softly, letting her emotions take control instead of her brain.

Ah, somehow just like that, good luck

There will surely

be many more sad times ahead of us

My darling, stay gold

It's also important to understand pain

It sounded like droplets of water in the form of a melody that seeped through the walls. Kyouya was in early, as usual. He hated mornings but it was much easier to deal with his grumpy attitude by himself as the caffeine kicked in before homeroom. He liked having the peace and quiet of the mornings.

I'll always love you so

There's no need for you to worry at all

My darling, stay gold

Keep smiling freely, forevermore

He recognized that voice by now. And there was no one else who held that room's key. She sang softly before the chords grew to be steadier and carried her voice along with it. His legs brought him towards the entrance of the Second Music Room, hiding behind one of the double doors that were closed.

She sounded beautiful. Her voice was soothing at the crack of dawn. His heart skipped a beat when he heard Mari's sweet voice crack as she sniffled. He could hear her exhale as her fingers stopped playing to wipe away tears. The Ootori was in too deep to show his face. He listened as Mari took another deep breath. He could hear her sniffling again. Kyouya wondered if it would be a good idea to leave right then and there. It was the most logical thing to do.

She never managed to finish the song. Kyouya darted back into the Third Music Room as soon as he heard the piano bench shuffle against the wooden floors. He listened to her lock the room to head down the halls towards the administration office. He poked his head out the Victorian doors as soon as he thought the coast was clear.

Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear the answers for.


A/N: Lyrics are from "Stay Gold" by Utada Hikaru.