A/N: I've been gone so long, I'm such a terrible writer...I'm so sorry! I was at a music camp and then I hit this weird writer's block afterwards and ... yeah ... :(
This chapter explores Tsukiko's bond with Kaoru just a little bit. It gives you a peek into what this story will be mostly centered around and the overall tone of how this relationship will unfold.
Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran, if I did Haruhi would have at least had more ship moments with Hikaru.
Tsukiko had to dodge at least fifty girls then next day (most of them having seen the twins with her and wondered what their connection was), escape the lingering stares of some of the less courteous guys in her class, and escape the twins' constant fawning and questions about her time overseas.
She thought she'd escaped at lunch when she found a quiet spot out in the back gardens, but low and behold Kaoru stumbled upon her not long after.
"Tsukiko, hi. Hikaru's looking for you, just so you know…" he commented, taking a seat beside her on the marble bench beneath the rose arches.
"I can't. Too much bright, too much loud, too much. Hikaru's like that," she said in a fragmented language that he'd learned to decipher years ago.
"Figured you'd say as much," he smiled gently, leaning back and staring upwards at the twists of rose vines above them, pink, yellow, white, red, purple… hm. Purple.
Suddenly, Tsukiko felt the bench quiver slightly and gasped at Kaoru, who was standing at full height on top of the bench and seemingly reaching towards the sky. His auburn-brown hair caught the mid-day sunlight, eyes smiling in a silent determination.
His too-long fingers reached around a blossom of an almost lavender color, Tsukiko's favorite color, but she'd never even told anyone that.
The rose came off the vine with an audible snap and he handed it to her, eyes still smiling with that look, that determined one. It was like a moment out of a children's book, but she had never been one for fairytales.
"Really? A rose? You realize that if I cut my fingers and can't conquer that Chopin passage today I'm holding you responsible. And I will demand chocolate and snacks and anime and a lot of plushies," she threatened, but, surprisingly, he simply laughed and handed the flower to her.
She took it, and that surprised the both of them.
"Roses are your favorite. Lavender especially, but you never touched them because your parents would have had your neck if you cut your hand. You love and hate music, you are an enormous otaku, you love food but sometimes skip meals when you're upset, your favorite color is also lavender-"
He stopped himself there, having made his point. Tsukiko found herself gaping slightly, wondering how on earth he knew all this. Those were personal preferences that not even her parents knew about.
"Every time you came to our house and we toured the gardens you lingered at the lavender roses a little longer. When you were picking out a dress in third grade for that concert at my mom's design store you got the simple silk one in lavender. You would skip lunch and dinner at our sleepovers when you'd done badly at a concert in the past."
She still remained silent, eyes cast to the flower in her hand. She inspected the stem and the leaves, no thorns. Not a single one. Ironic.
"You're a hopeless romantic at heart, the more mature of the two of you despite technically being younger, you like your coffee black and your food slightly less sweet. You like dark chocolate, your favorite color is orange, you like apples better than oranges though. Your favorite hobby is reading and scheming, your smile reminds me of this Mozart March I played once and god damn it quit staring at me like that, I'm about to die from the inside," she finished, laughing, putting a hand on her chest dramatically and playing mock faint.
His laughter made her heart feel like a million violins playing spiccato.
"Kaoru, you suck. You really suck. Now I can't leave Japan," she whined after a minute, setting the flower beside her on the bench and leaning back with him, now also staring up at the roses above them.
She didn't feel like crying, nor did she feel like she had the day before. She just felt … heavy. Heavy and achy and yet it was a heavy, achy happiness that was weighing her down, with so many feelings other than happiness mixing in the create a strange thing she'd never quite felt before.
The last thing he said to her that day sealed the feeling inside of her, made it permanent, made it really, really come to life.
"Then don't go."
The next few days held little notability; she was getting used to her classes and the twins and would drop by after school at the club to help out with serving and whatnot. It was surprising to everyone that she had so much free time, especially considering the upcoming Winter Competition, but she had worked out a system that allowed her a few extra hours. Besides, she got some practice during club anyway, occasionally playing as background music to set the mood.
Kyoya never charged her for being there, surprisingly, but that was probably because she often helped out with the deliveries and provided background music, plus the occasional accounting help when he was overwhelmed by receipts for Honey's enormous sweet tooth.
He did not, however, treat her like any other guest. His mannerisms around her were as polite as necessary, but never quite as courteous as they were to the regular guest, plus the fact that he was constantly calling her out for errands at the most random of times, like in the middle of her Chopin Etude, for example, or while she was in a conversation with Mori, or even this one time while the twins were sexually harassing her. She might have been grateful for the last interruption though.
"Ah, Shizukara-san. Do you think you could take this tray of tea to Mori and Honey's table?"
Without waiting for a reply he handed her the heavy tea set and several sugary-looking sweets all balanced carefully on a tray of what looked like silver. Silver platter. Literally. What was the point of this?
"Sure," she replied after it had already been handed to her, silently wondering how many music books the silver tray could buy.
Carefully, so as not to spill the contents of the tea cups and sugar bowl, she stepped quietly towards the third years' table, setting the tray down on their table with a quiet "here you go" and lingering for only a split second to give Mori a quick smile. He returned it with a blank face, but eyes that told her he reciprocated the gesture.
Kyoya looked busy after that, and all of the shopping for supplies had been done earlier that week. Tsukiko drifted towards the grand piano, pulling up the lid, tapping on a high G. Green. Green, light, fluttery, sparkly notes. Mozart.
A melody flickered out of nothing, starting off as light staccato accompanied by alberti bass, and then building into a long, slow crescendo of sixteenth notes.
The keys felt perfect beneath her fingers, light and within her control. She practically flew through the first page of the piece, all the light and airy stuff, and the second page grew in volume and harmonic depth. Suddenly the notes were darker and richer and held the sort of heaviness that came with a certain kind of happiness. It was all still major, all still bright. But growing more complex and twisted by the measure.
Now the minor, a deep, dark, avalanche of fast notes on low, low keys. Melodies that were twisted became knotted in tight tangles of flats and chords, tying the listener down and commanding their attention with a vice-like grip.
And then came to part that was strangest of all.
The melody seemed to go back to the light theme, but then pulled a shockingly dark and startling chord, went back to the light theme and did the same thing as before. It was a strange and yet somehow beautiful combination of the two movements, and was so strangely brilliant it was hilarious.
When she finished the piece it was on a strangely minor, yet lightly toned chord, tying up the piece nicely.
When Tsukiko looked up she realized that the rest of the room had gone silent and everyone's eyes were on her.
Someone started clapping, slowly, dumbstruck.
Another set of hands joined.
Suddenly the room was filled with a chorus of applause, and it was more beautiful than the melody she'd just played.
There were people standing in the doorways, male students that had never stepped foot in Music Room #3 before, staring, clapping, cheering, staring staring staring.
"Kyoya, is there some way we could tip her? That was brilliant!"
One of the customers was asking. Kyoya looked to her with inquiring eyes.
'I want 50% of tips,' she mouthed, and he nodded without a second thought.
And that is how her part-time job in the host club began.