DISCLAIMER: I do not own Ouran.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Beta-ed by warmsugar. Feedbacks/reviews/comments are very much welcome!

WEAKNESS

By: Kalachuchi

Haruhi was massaging her tired neck as she entered their bedroom. Something caught her eye. She stopped and gaped at an open door on the corner where a wall used to be. Her mind went to her days back in the Host Club where doors and giant furniture would suddenly appear from nowhere. The familiarity terrified her.

"Where did that came from?" she wondered aloud, eyebrows twitching. "I'm definitely sure that wasn't there yesterday." But curiosity got better of her and she quickly walked towards the mystery door. She peered inside cautiously and saw –

"Kyoya?"

He looked up from the thing he was holding. She let her eyes roam around and saw that it was no bigger than her old room in Ranka's house. It was practically empty; besides the couch he was sitting on in the middle of the room, there wasn't any more furniture except for the pile of boxes lined up at the side.

"You're home early," he remarked, his eyeglasses becoming opaque.

"Yeah. There's a scheduled renovation in the office today. Kyoya, when did this room appear?"

He blinked at her. "What are you talking about? This room has always been here."

"No. I'm pretty sure we didn't have this before."

"This has always been here, Haruhi."

"But – " Haruhi stopped short. No use arguing with him once he repeated something he had said. She sighed. "What is this room anyway?"

"A storage room."

She wanted to point out that storage rooms did not just materialize out of nowhere, but she bit her tongue. She sat beside him on the couch.

"What's that?"

Kyoya glanced at the photo album in his hands. "Just our pictures back in the Host Club."

"Eh?" She leaned forward to get a better look. There was one photo of the twins running away from a powder-drenched Tamaki, another of Mori carrying a sleeping Honey in his arms, and finally, one of her and Kyoya as she stood over a broken teacup. She squirmed in her seat at that memory.

"Where did you get all these?" she asked as she turned the page.

"From the cameras in the school."

Her hand stopped in midair. "There were cameras?"

"Where do you think some of the pictures in our Photo Collection series came from?"

She twitched. "How long have you been spying on us?"

"Spying?" He pushed his glasses up. "You wound me, Haruhi. I was merely collecting merchandises for our club."

Her mouth opened but no words came out. She decided to drop it but not before she took a cautious glance around the storage room, wondering if there was one behind the white tiles capturing their every action. "Well, why are you looking at them anyway?"

"I've been reviewing."

"Huh?"

"Tamaki insisted we have a get-together next Saturday. Everyone in the Host Club has already given their confirmations."

"How come I wasn't invited?"

He glanced at her. "It's a male night-out, he said."

"What? Why?" she demanded.

"Well," he replied slowly, "I think they remembered that you're my wife now. We all know how much they adore you and I don't think some certain hosts can keep themselves from cuddling you like before. And so to avoid any problems, someone suggested that you should not be included anymore," he paused, eyeglasses clouding. He eyed her for a moment before pushing up his glasses. "Well. Tamaki agreed. He doesn't want you to lose your concentration from work."

She stared at him. "But...what's there to review?"

"Their weaknesses."

"Weaknesses?" She blinked.

"It's better to be prepared. Who knows what can take place. Have you forgotten what chaos can occur when the Host Club get together?"

"I remember, but I don't understand how their weaknesses has anything to do with all this."

"Everything. Let me tell you a secret. Everyone has a weakness. Once you know how to exploit that, you can do anything you want. There are others whose weakness are far too easy to see while some need to be scrutinized from every angle, for every little detail. It's a weapon Haruhi, one that can ultimately lead a person to his downfall or, if tended properly, to greatness. Think of it as a game. It's all about using it to your advantage and to win in every situation before the other one can use it against you. " Kyoya smiled at her.

A chill ran down her spine. She backed away from him. Just in case.

"So are you telling me you know mine?" she asked honestly. Kyoya gave a low chuckle.

"Actually, yours are the most blatant, Haruhi," he told her.

She shuddered at the thought of Kyoya exploiting whatever obvious weaknesses he had found in her. Maybe it's better to be more careful from now on.

"Well I suppose the high and mighty Kyoya would have one too, since you said everyone has it," she said, meeting his thoughtful gaze. "But I have no idea what on earth could possibly make you vulnerable."

Kyoya merely gave a smile that even the devil himself would be terrified of. She suddenly remembered why the Shadow King was aptly named for him.

"Why would you want to know?" he asked, eyebrow rising.

But before Haruhi could reply, Kyoya's phone began to ring. "If you'll excuse me, Haruhi. I have to take this call."

Haruhi nodded and he quickly left the room. She glanced at the album beside her. "I wonder what they're doing now," she murmured as she looked at the Host Club photos. She suddenly glanced around. "There are probably more pictures around here."

She headed for the boxes on the side. She opened the one nearest her and gaped at what she saw.

"Isn't this…?"

She gingerly plucked a purple velvet bodice and held it up in front her. She could remember all too clearly this piece of garment Kyoya had worn when the Zuka Club first tried to take her to Lobelia. It was one of Tamaki's outrageous schemes, one that made her stomach hurt from laughing. She began to sort through the rest of it and found several clothes that they had worn for the various cosplays they had done. After making sure she was able to fold the clothes neatly and place them back to where they used to be, she straightened up and looked at the remaining packages.

"The others must be full of clothes as well," she thought vaguely as she walked towards the rest of the boxes. Her eyes were suddenly drawn to the last one, on the other side of the room where it was practically hidden by the rest of the bigger boxes. She found herself moving towards it. She stopped short as she saw the sign written on the side of the box. She cranked her head to the side to read the words printed upside down.

Confidential: Fujioka Haruhi.

An involuntary shudder shook her. Knowing Kyoya could do that to a lot of people. She went down on her knees, gingerly opening it and saw that it was full of folders. She carefully picked one and blinked in surprise as she saw what was inside.

… Some need to be scrutinized from every angle…

"My medical records?" She exhaled sharply. "He even asked my father for my medical records?" She began to dread the contents of the other folders but nonetheless, she continued to take the folders out.

… for every little detail…

The next folder contained copies of her report cards since she started schooling. The other envelope was full of her pictures from her infant years until middle school. She frowned at the idea of Ranka giving it to Kyoya all too willingly. No wonder she had a hard time looking for it when she needed her baby photos for a project back in high school. It was all in the Ootori's Storage Room. She reminded herself to talk to Ranka about it.

… it's a weapon…

She did not understand what the following folder was about. All it contained were print out copies of pie charts. There was one for each of the Host Club members, except for her, but almost half of it was all under Kyoya's name. What it meant, she didn't know but a little voice inside her head told her she would be better off not knowing.

She stared at the papers inside the next folder. She couldn't believe it. Kyoya had actually kept a couple of files on Arai. She blinked, wondering what he planned to do with it. She began to sort through the other papers and found to her horror that it also contained reports on her male classmates from Ouran and her college. She sighed, muttering something about his paranoia. A formal-looking white envelope suddenly fell from the folder and she cautiously picked it up. At the back was the Ootori mark and she found herself opening it.

The frown on her face deepened as she read what it contained. It was a recommendation letter with her name on it addressed to the University she attended, dating back when she was still in high school. At the end of the letter was Kyoya's signature, written with a flourish. A thought suddenly entered her head.

Did Kyoya - ? She shook her head quickly. No. She got in that school because of her scholarship, and not because of anything else, she assured herself. But as she placed the letter back inside the envelope, she couldn't dispel the doubt that lingered at the back of her mind.

… one that can ultimately lead a person to his downfall…

The last one sent a sinister feel throughout her body. It was neither a folder nor pictures. It was simply a clipboard, which looked awfully familiar to her. There were papers clipped to it and saw that it was her list of debts back when she was a host – and a really, really long list it was. In fact, everything that was written on it was hers, she managed to notice. The sight brought memories that made her drop the clipboard back inside. (If only she had looked at it more closely, she would have noticed that almost all of the amounts there had an extra zero intentionally written after the original ones.)

She wondered briefly what on earth could Kyoya gain by collecting all these because, really, it almost looked as if he was studying her. She signed resignedly and started to put the things back in the box.

… or, if tended properly, greatness…

"Haruhi," Kyoya called.

She threw everything inside and quickly closed the incriminating box. Just in time. Kyoya suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Haruhi? There's a phone call for you."

She glanced at him. "Y-Yeah." She walked past him in a rush, averting her gaze. After all, if Kyoya had managed to read her mind regarding what she saw inside, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing the guilt in her eyes. She reached the door and cautiously peeked back at him.

Kyoya was glancing at the boxes suspiciously.

She was eating normally, he noted as they sat for dinner later that night. Except for the little pallor in her cheeks when she left the storage room, she still acted perfectly normal. (Kyoya made a mental note about changing its location and to remind Haruhi's secretary to always inform him of her early break from work. He couldn't risk having her unexpected appearances while he was busy plotting.) He couldn't help but give a sigh of relief.

Although she was a very intelligent woman, she was pretty oblivious when it came to matters regarding her, and Kyoya had always been happy about that fact. She was too close, very close to realizing what those files in that box symbolized. He watched her take a large bite from the sushi on her plate before pushing his glasses up.

…It's all about using it to your advantage and to win in every situation before the other one can use it against you…

Because if she did, then Kyoya would be losing big time in the game against her.