The car ride home was silent, except for the incessant stream of thoughts churning through Haruhi's head that she could not possibly have thought of a worse idea. Hikaru insisted on taking her home after dinner. The two looked out of opposite windows, wishing the driver would speed up, or that Yumiko—sat between them again—would wake up from her car-induced slumber and distract them.
"Sorry sir," said the driver. "Looks like we've hit traffic."
Hikaru sighed and turned his window down to survey the rows of cars, some beeping, most giving noxious fumes into the air. Once he pulled it back up, he turned to Haruhi, almost still at a loss for words.
"Did you… I mean, really?" He wasn't offended, nor upset or angry. Just confused.
"I'm sorry," said Haruhi. "I wasn't really thinking. I just wanted everyone to stop arguing."
"You know what would have stopped them arguing? If you never showed up in the first place."
He was right, of course he was, but the comment still hurt. She turned back to look out her window, watching a sparrow picking at some litter on the ground.
"No, now I'm sorry." Hikaru bent over and put his face in his hands, emitting a slow moan. "This is so messed up already."
"All I need to do is find out what Fielding really knows and then—"
Hikaru shot up, glaring at her. "And then what? Ruin Kaoru's family? Break up with me?"
"I… break up?" She blinked. "It's not a real engagement, you know that. I had to say something. And this way, I can keep close to Fielding without bringing too much suspicion."
The car engine churned to life once more, heaving them at a snail's pace towards the inner city.
"You really want me to go along with this, just while you play 'detective'?" His brown eyes, usually full of genuine affection, had turned cold. They sat in silence once more, reluctantly allowing it to envelope them until Yumiko awoke, softly nudging Haruhi's arm. Haruhi placed a hand on her head, staring straight ahead.
The driver took a detour, bypassing congested main roads and trundling through narrow side streets before arriving outside the gates of Hikaru's apartment.
"I never wanted any of this to happen," Haruhi said quietly. "I just wanted to do what my mother did, become a good lawyer and be a decent person." She laid a kiss on top of Yumiko's sleepy head. "I remember her telling me, this small, scrawny child, about love. That when someone loves you they might understand bits of you—probably never the whole of you—but they'll be kind to you even when you can't to yourself."
The car stopped, engine switched off. The driver walked around to Haruhi's side and opened the door, a draft of cool evening air chilling her skin.
She gathered Yumiko into her arms and looked at Hikaru once more.
"I know Yumiko had a mother who would have told her the same things—if only she'd lived that long." She stepped out the car and slung her bag around her shoulders before peeking in once more. "You can tell everyone we 'broke up'. I just really need to get to the bottom of this."
The door shut as she walked away with Yumiko holding on to her neck, who gave Hikaru a little wave with her pudgy hand.
Kyouya's head throbbed against the stiff pillow. He turned over, trying to find a position that wouldn't leave him with a brutal neck ache, before reaching for his phone again. It had been two days since he was discharged from hospital and allowed to stay in the safe house, forty eight hours of dipping in and out of consciousness. He was assured that the drugs had left his system, but that the side effects would remain for a little while.
Through bleary eyes, he checked his messages. Only one from Hani, telling him to stay put until he was in contact.
This was ridiculous. Why would somebody be out to sabotage, or even kill, Kyouya? He rubbed his bleary eyes and ran through a hazy list of Ootori business enemies, but his mind wouldn't patch two and two together. He felt himself come undone once more. Burying himself deeper into the covers, he had a sudden urge to call out to someone, anyone, who could stay by his side and tell him everything would be alright. Someone to give him a hug.
So childish, he told himself. And yet the feeling was so strong and fast becoming a regular occurrence.
Reaching out for his phone again, Kyouya tapped out the names of several CEOs his father may have disagreed with in the past, but none of them seemed to fit the idea of harming the Ootori family. Specifically harming Kyouya's family, those closest to him.
On that same idea, he wondered if Haruhi had kept herself safe in the days after the trial. A pang of guilt jolted him upright—what about Yumiko? What kind of father was he that his first thought wasn't even his own daughter?
With shame-driven anxiety, he quickly sent Haruhi a message. His thumb hesitated over the Send button before finally tapping it. Just to check everything was okay; just to make sure no one else was hurt. Kyouya might be falling apart inside, but he couldn't bear for anyone else on the outside to take the fall for whatever sins he had committed in the past.
Two, three, ten minutes past by and yet no reply. His fingers itched to do something, speak to someone. Without much thought, he clicked on to Haruhi's social media feed. She rarely updated—it probably wasn't her 'thing'—with the last personal post being five months ago, a selfie her father had taken with her. She looked reluctant, almost irritated, but nevertheless had a smile on her face. Kyouya smiled—that sounded like Haruhi. Not wanting to be in the spotlight.
Another post popped up, having been uploaded that minute. It was a photo with two hands belonging to two different people. One hand was adorned with a singular engagement ring. Haruhi was tagged on the left side, the empty hand. Need to put on a ring on it, what are you waiting for HikaruHitachiin ?
Kyouya's mouth went dry. What was going on? The post was uploaded by Miyo Fielding, who appeared to be on Haruhi's friends list.
Fielding… Fielding. Where had he heard that name before?
His head continued to throb as he tried to struggle through a myriad of thoughts, ideas that felt so foreign to him. Haruhi? Married? Of course that was entirely impossible, but wasn't he…? No, that's stupid. She was only taking care of Yumiko. And where was Yumiko in this picture? Where was his daughter?
He dialled the number and felt his breath rattle in his dry throat, sweat forming on his temples.
I'm sorry, but the person you have dialled cannot take your call right now.
"Damn it," he said, hamming a fist into his bed.
He looked back at the feed and searched for Hikaru's profile, but it was set to private. Kyouya scoffed—Hikaru was the least private of all at Ouran, second to Tamaki. Always wore his heart on his sleeve and never was afraid of others to see his emotions. What exactly had he said or done to Haruhi to twist her hand?
No, that's ridiculous. Haruhi was not married. He knew her, she was sensible and quietly private about these things. She wouldn't pair herself up with such an explosive personality… would she? It was no secret of her crush on Tamaki all those years ago. It was, perhaps, what had driven them all to opposite ends of life. They were all strangers to one another for so many years, and were suddenly now driven back to face each other. Something was forcing them together, and it infuriated Kyouya that he did not know what.
His phone rang. Without looking at the caller, he answered, his thoughts running a mile a minute.
"Haruhi? Where is she, where's Yumiko, what's going—"
"Relax, Kyouya," came a cool voice. "It's Hani."
Kyouya slumped back into his bed. His shirt stuck to his back in a layer of sweat. "Oh, I was just… I'd called her. I want to see my daughter."
"I know, Haruhi contacted me as soon as you messaged her. She knows you've been moved to a safe location. Kyouya, under the circumstances, I don't think it's safe for you to see your daughter."
"But I—"
The Captain's tone steeled. "We have to ensure everyone's safety, especially vulnerable children."
A warm feeling came to his face. He bit his lip and swallowed before speaking, "Very well. But I need to speak to Haruhi. I can't stand by and watch this all happen from the sidelines. And besides, if you keep me cooped up in this apartment, won't whoever-is-watching-me notice?"
A pause filled the air as the Captain mulled over the idea. "I'll send a car for you. The two of you can meet at the station tomorrow."
"Why not today?" Even as he said it, his body protested.
"The doctors said to give you a few days, but I'll give you one. I'm sure you'll be back to normal in no time, but please, Kyouya, don't do anything stupid for now." The phone clicked off, the dialling tone ringing in his ear.
In the seconds before slumber overtook, Kyouya wondered if his dreams would take him somewhere warm and safe.
Miyo insisted on flower shopping together. It was impossible to skip such an important event in preparation for the wedding, especially since they would both become "Desperate Hitachiin-Housewives". Haruhi wasn't sure which part of that to protest, but with Miyo's persistent nature, she didn't have much of a say in it.
"Kaoru is hopeless with this sort of thing," she said as they stepped out of the chauffer-driven car. Sunlight spilled into the streets, lining trees with honeyed greens and brought a sudden optimism on Haruhi's face. "So it was just going to be me… my parents aren't so invested."
Miyo paused, a pensive look overtaking her usual composed features, before she shook the thought away. "Never mind, let's go in!" She grabbed Haruhi by the hand and marched her into the florist.
It wasn't like a normal boutique. Sakura Flowers had two floors and an outdoor viewing garden, all milling with customers, generally women of all ages. Each flock of customers had a sales assistant attached, dressed in black with deep green aprons. Flowers of all kinds and colours blossomed from pots and hanging planters, their rich scents filling the air.
"The most luxurious flowers in the city," said Miyo, sighing happily. "We'll definitely find something here."
They walked amongst the crowd, pausing several times to inspect a particular arrangement. At one point Haruhi held her hand out behind her, before realising Yumiko wasn't there. She shook her head and tried to dismiss her paranoia.
She's at home with Dad, just relax.
"Is there anything I can help you with? These camellia's are very in vogue right now," said a middle-aged sales assistant. She wore her auburn hair in a neat bun and pushed thick-rimmed glasses further up her nose.
Miyo smiled. "We're having a joint wed—"
"Flowers for a wedding, please," said Haruhi. She didn't want word to spread about this double wedding; indeed, she was just playing along to get more facts. The idea of breaking it off hadn't even occurred to her. It would be a bitter matter with Hikaru, but she couldn't think about that now. He knew her intentions.
The sales assistant nodded with understanding and led them further in the back, towards the outdoor garden. As they stood by the large windows, Haruhi peered into the garden. A fountain stood off-centre, spouting clear water elegantly in three different directions. Just beyond that was a hexagonal glass greenhouse, its windows dotted with more plants. A figure stood inside it, tending to the leaves, and turned towards the store.
Haruhi's heart froze, stuck in the past.
"…I'm not sure, I mean I think they might be alright for table centres, but they don't really match the colour scheme. What do you think Haruhi?" Miyo tapped her shoulder. She jolted into the present before shaking her head.
"I'm sorry, just got distracted. You know what, I think I'm going to take a little wander around," she said. Miyo raised her eyebrows, mouth pouting. "But don't make any decisions without me!" Haruhi added with faux-enthusiasm, not wanting to upset her.
She stepped into the garden, pretending to observe the flowers and zigzagging through the small pockets of crowds before standing outside the greenhouse. A sign hung on the door, "Staff Only," but she knocked on the glass nonetheless.
The stoic face stared at her with those same dark eyes. They softened as Haruhi called his name.
"Takashi. Is it really you?"
They sat around the small table inside the greenhouse as Takashi—Haruhi couldn't bring herself to use his nickname, Mori—poured both of them a small cup of tea. Staring back to the garden, he took a small sip.
"So this is your job?" she asked politely. She had forgotten about his solitary and quiet nature, though it was his most attractive feature when mingled with his good looks.
He shook his head. "I own Sakura. There are a couple of other branches in the city, but this is its biggest one."
"But you're out here in the garden," said Haruhi. "Aren't CEOs usually in their offices?"
A small smile spread across his lips before disappearing just as quick. "Usually. I like to get some fresh air." He put his cup down on its saucer. "I've always liked flowers."
"This is… I mean, wow. I never thought I'd run into you again after Ouran." Haruhi laughed. "Actually, I never thought I'd run into any of the Club again."
"Life has a funny way of bringing us around, full circle."
Miyo had stepped into the garden herself, wandering around in full concentration of the sales assistant's every word.
"I don't suppose you've been watching the news recently…"
"I have," said Takashi. He looked at her once again, a tense expression written across his eyes. "It must be hard on you."
"Not as much as it just frustrates me," said Haruhi before catching herself. They said nothing more for a few minutes, settling in the sun's glow made warmer inside the greenhouse.
Funny how we've all reunited in some way in the space of a month, thought Haruhi. All except—
"Do you ever miss Ouran? Being together with everyone?" said Haruhi.
Takashi nodded. "A little. It was almost like a family, I suppose."
"Do you remember how it all fell apart?" she said quietly, as if to herself.
He let out a small sigh. "His death marked the start of a different life for us all. I don't believe any of us were quite the same after Tamaki passed." He said it so matter-of-fact, without betraying a trace of emotion, and yet Haruhi knew he felt it as deeply as she did.
"It was so sudden," she agreed, "So horrible and unfair and… and I never even got to say goodbye. You remember, the funeral was in France."
Takashi nodded once more. "It was odd, of course."
"The funeral?"
"No, just how everything happened. Within two weeks we had moved on. The Suoh family closed themselves off, understandably, but nothing was looked into. There was no inquiry, no investigation. It was as if the whole world had conspired to lock him away, and had thrown away the key."
Haruhi blinked. She had never thought of it that way. Tamaki was stabbed and the attacker ran, a murky shadow in the blind spots of their memories. Only she and Kyouya had been there at the time, Kyouya taking one second to look over his friend before running in pursuit. A dark shadow fell over the Host Club, and they stopped their activities for good. Ouran was never the same after Tamaki, and Haruhi thought, neither were any of them.
"And now we've all been gathered up," said Haruhi, braving a smile. She got up. "Thank you for the tea, Takashi. I'm sure we'll see each other again."
He held the door open for her as she left the greenhouse and reunited with Miyo beyond the fountain. But Haruhi couldn't concentrate on camellias, tulips, or white roses.
A chord of intuition struck inside her and kept thrumming.
Haruhi was sure their paths crossing was not down to the merest of coincidence.
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