As their car pulled up to the estate, Kyoya marveled at how extreme a change the terrain provided. The wide spread grounds sprawled to the edge of his sight, freckled heavily with greenery and tiny animals going about their day. The road had been littered with signs warning drivers of the local wildlife, some being rather aggressive with the whole 'stay in your vehicle unless absolutely necessary'.
"Futen-zoku*," Kyoya muttered, then laughed a bit under his breath. Tamaki shifted to look at him, and carefully covered Kyoya's hand with his own.
"So she's an environmentalist," Tamaki reasoned.
"Peut-être elle es une hippie,*" Kyoya snarked, and grinned triumphantly when Tamaki finally laughed. "Or perhaps she is a vegan and wants to feed us to her pet bears."
Tamaki was still giggling by the time they had said goodbye to Tachibana at the entrance, and the two of them made their way up the steps, bidding greetings to each staff member they passed, an unusual habit for the wealthy visitors. To the staff's credit, they remained pleasantly polite and allowed them on their way, undeterred, to the main hall that Honey where had insisted meeting them. On they walked, marveling at the decorum of the estate. The grounds, visible from the ornate metal bars that guarded the windows, were sprawling, lush and green. On the walls were the tastefully framed commissions of several artists, the majority of them unheard of. The few names Kyoya actually recognized nearly sent him reeling. Who stuck an amateur watercolor next to a genuine Tabaimo still?
The art had distracted him, loosened the tightness in his chest. Maybe that was why he didn't notice when they'd run into not Honey, but Mori. The cousins who had essentially mentored the entire group. A dull sense of dread bloomed in him, but Kyoya pushed it down. Surely he was being over reactionary. They were not being ganged up on.
"Mori-sempai," Kyoya heard himself say, surprised to see him, but Tamaki didn't miss a beat and went to greet their friend with a jovial embrace. Perhaps, Kyoya thought to himself, I should have expected one when I expected the other.
Mori greeted him like always, with a warmth Kyoya hadn't been aware he was missing. Because of this, Kyoya found himself wishing he had picked up hugging like all his friends his age, back when he could've blamed it on Tamaki's 'foreign influence' rather than his own touch starved whim.
It was just at that moment that Kyoya felt a weight on his back, and he couldn't help but laugh. Honey somehow always knew what was up when it came to him.
"Kyo-chan!" Honey's arms briefly squeezed before he let go completely; Kyoya turned to face him and smiled. "It's been so long, I'm glad you…"
There was something about panic that debilitated him nowadays. How easy it was to lose oneself in it, how terrifying- like stumbling without shoes in a forest and coming across the sight of an animal in a hunter's trap. Was Kyoya the poor bastard who was wandering barefoot in the snow, or was he the writhing mass of flesh and fur that was caught between metal teeth? Was the forest even real? He didn't know. He was tired.
"…Kyoya?" Tamaki was saying, peering intently at him.
"What was that last part?" Kyoya asked.
"We said we were glad you guys could make it," Honey repeated cheerfully. "Especially this early in the event."
A catering cart was hurriedly pushed at their sides, and everyone but Tamaki declined a finger food. When Tamaki saw the sprawl across the platter he reared back, appalled: it was an artful arrangement of small, bloodied chunks of meat. It didn't look like beef tartare, or kobe, or anything normally served raw. He briefly caught sight of Honey's concerned disgust before Kyoya was pulling him away by the back of his jacket .
"Tetsuo!" A woman's voice cut through everyone's stunned silence. "That is not meant for these guests!"
Tetsuo, who had obviously begun to realize his mistake, jumped at the chance to make a hasty retreat. The man left looking like a mouse, trembling at the woman's expression.
"Yes, Lady Kohana," Tetsuo squeaked, then scurried off with the cart. Tamaki sucked in a breath and Kyoya automatically took his hand, neither looking away from the woman. Left alone to explain herself, Kohana turned to face them. She was dressed in a dark shade of green, one that completely flattered her olive complexion and startlingly white hair, which, when moved in the light, reflected silver. He noticed she had lighter eyes, as well. Perhaps she was of mixed race, like Tamaki. As she approached, Kyoya could smell…
"Is that sandalwood?" Tamaki blurted. Tamaki was the sort of person who wanted to keep everything calm and easygoing, so the moment he could find something in common with their hostess he clung to it.
Kohana paused, a hand delicately going to her chest. A smile found its way to her face, and she answered with a simple, "Yes."
"It's a lovely scent," Honey picked up, but Kyoya could read the tense line of his shoulders. Apparently the good lady could as well, for her own shoulders dropped with a slump.
"From India," Kohana said, then, "I really didn't mean to scare you." She seemed upset with herself for having done so, and her hands were raised in a gesture of passivity before she motioned for them to follow. "I believe I spoke with Haninozuka-san earlier, and I had neglected to mention that the menu had been extended for certain guests."
Interesting. She called Honey by his name, which means she was maintaining distance or Honey hadn't liked her enough to ask her to- which, with how friendly the guy was, was a red flag.
"Extended?" was the first word Mori had spoken that night, painted with derision.
"Extended," Kohana stated firmly. "As a favor to a friend." They'd gone for a walk down the polished wooden floor (strangely homely in the setting of such an event), down to a quieter corridor. She stopped them outside a heavy wooden door. "My office," was all Kohana said, and entered. "We've had a special request for a conspicuous meal due to dietary restrictions, and we were meant to keep the accomodation under wraps. I trust you won't raise a fuss over that?"
Dietary restrictions in favor of consuming raw red meat? "How are your friend's iron levels?" Kyoya couldn't help but snark.
"Bad enough that it's rude to inquire about them," Kohana shot back. In the center of the room was a finely carved writing desk, and the young woman leaned against its front. Kohana's piercing blue eyes roved over each of the four men, landing lastly on Tamaki. They seemed to settle there for a moment, growing bright. If Kyoya didn't know any better he'd call the expression longing. Subtly, Kyoya angled his body in front of Tamaki's, drawing Kohana's eyes back to him. They were softer than the rest of her face, and the light furrow to her brow gave the impression that she had her own reservations about meeting with them.
"So here is the good doctor," Kohana said warmly.
"Never went past residency," Kyoya automatically responded. He cleared his throat awkwardly and offered, "I write, now."
Surprise flickered across Kohana's expression, followed quickly by delight. "Really?" she asked, "What genre?"
"Fiction, mostly. Only published a few novels, here and there. Nothing big yet."
"He's great," chimed in Tamaki.
"I'm sure," Kohana agreed. "What's your pen name?"
"Kohana," Honey called out, voice close to a reprimand. "What have you called us out here for?"
At his tone, Kohana's spine straightened and she seemed to be making a decision. "I would like to invite you to a charity event I'm doing next week. It's-"
"No," Kyoya was already shaking his head, "No, thank you…"
"-reading to service dogs," Kohana finished. She waited until that had gotten their attention and then continued: "A friend of mine-"
"My, but you have a lot of friends," Kyoya drawled.
Kohana continued "-trains the dogs for a few different things. Swimming, sleeping, recognizing signs for episodes. If any."
"Episodes?"
Now she looked uncomfortable. Kohana cleared her throat. "Yes, the dogs will be helping out school children in need from things such as seizures and episodes of extreme stress. We'll just be getting them used to being around and working with others."
Honey, who had been watching Kohana throughout her explanation, suddenly smiled widely. He leaned against one of her shelves of books and regarded Kohana cooly. "And that's why you asked us to come this early? To play with some puppies?"
"One of my brothers requested that I tried asking for your influence with a new project. The program is new, and some things are uncertain at the moment. I am trying to do my best for everyone around me," Kohana carefully replied, meeting Honey's eyes evenly. "That's all I want."
"How kind of you," he said, an odd edge to his tone. Kohana stiffened. "Little miss philanthropist."
Something lightly flickered in Mori's expression, an understanding of some sort. The man had been quietly watching everyone as they talked, observing what was being unsaid. Kyoya shot him a questioning look, but Mori averted his eyes in favor of nodding to Kohana.
"We'll do it."
"We will?" chimed Kyoya and Tamaki.
"We will," Honey doubled down despite his earlier refusal, glancing at his cousin. Kyoya frowned heavily.
What was going on? What did they know?
"Thank you," said Kohana, "I'll send you the details right away."
After that was said and done, a worker popped their head in the doorway and politely requested Kohana's opinion. Kohana smiled and dismissed the group of men from her office, pleasantly offering another staff member as a guide to their seats.
On their way to find their table, the group of young men quietly discussed the events of the afternoon. Honey revealed his disturbance and disbelief at the meat incident; Kyoya agreed with him.
"I don't think I can like her," Tamaki said sadly.
Kyoya looked up in surprise. "Why not?" he asked. "It sounded like you two got along just fine."
"Better than," Mori added, equally confused.
Tamaki studied the empty air before him, picking and sorting through his thoughts without blurting something out. "It's just…"
Honey pressed his side against Tamaki's, gently breaking his train of thought. Tamaki took a shaky breath and shuddered a bit. "She reminds me…" Tamaki trailed off, eyes gaining a fair amount of distance.
Kyoya swallowed, hard. "We'll see her next week and that's it," he murmured, palming Tamaki's shoulder. He saw it too: the build, her cheekbones, a few stray mannerisms. The way Kohana had managed to wrangle an agreement out of the lot of them exactly like Kagome would have. The sandalwood. The exact shade of green that Kyoya adored. The wall art that put him at ease. Now it all threw him off-kilter and Kyoya didn't care for it. Kagome was dead, and Kyoya thought they had finally accepted it.
So why was he looking for her in other women? Why was he so hell bent on chasing her ghost?
As the four of them took a seat, Kyoya waved a waiter over and ordered drinks for the table. When the server came back, Tamaki slid his old fashion to Kyoya, silently offering it. Shit, Kyoya thought. Shit. I'm an asshole.
"Tama-"
"It's okay," Tamaki smiled, perfect and gentlemanly as always, and flagged down the same server. "May I have a glass of water?"
Kyoya's eyes darted over to Honey and Mori, who were discussing the possible benefits, if any, of the consumption of raw meat. He stayed silent, not wanting to draw attention to his own little slip up, but reached for Tamaki's hand and squeezed. Tamaki squeezed back. I forgive you.
A breath of relief left him. As long as Tamaki was on his side, there was no point in worrying about everything else. The rest would be taken one step at a time.
AN: so you guys know how I am with my research rabbit holes.
Futen-zoku translates to 'crazy/tramp/vagabond' 'tribe/clan/family'. I found an article from the 1967 New York Times that describes a group (essentially of Japanese hippies) from Shinjuku who once 'took over' a park in Tokyo. It's not a nice thing to be called, but it's also one of those really esoteric insults that I think a snobbish learned person might dish out.
Peut-être elle es une hippie means Perhaps she is a hippy.