Suou-sama did not get her feathers ruffled. She made a point of it. A point of pride.

In all the world there was precisely one person who called after her, childishly, using the precious name "Obaasama." And when he did so, it moved her not. She was slightly disgusted, a little bit nauseated, perhaps. But unruffled. He was not her son's real child. His mother was not her son's real wife. He was not her real grandson. He should not be treated as if he were.

The child was blessed with his father's height, his mother's slender grace, the regal blonde hair and deep blue eyes that were rare and coveted even in his French homeland: he was beautiful, but he rendered his beauty meaningless. He had his mother's generosity and his father's intellect: great gifts of character, which he wasted. He had an ability to lead and a charismatic aura that were all his own: priceless skills that squandered prodigally. Tamaki was a patch of fungus on the family tree. He should be excised, or at the very least purged, cleansed until he matched the rest of the tree's dignified bark. Above all else, he should not be treated as though he mattered. Because he did not. Nothing he did should be allowed to besmirch the Suou name, and as representative of that name, Suou-sama should allow nothing he did to rumple her calm.

Suou-sama curled her hand into a tight fist, dropped it onto the glass table that stood beside her arching bedroom window. A teacup on the table rattled, making just the tiniest of tinkling noises. Too much noise. A quiet curse slipped from her lips. The boy was infuriating.

----

Tamaki had invited the whole Host Club to the Second Mansion. It was Sunday and there was no school, but he simply could not wait until Monday to play the game he had just learned about. He needed to play "Follow the Leader" today. The twins and Hani-senpai had enthusiastically agreed to come. Mori-senpai's grunt of acceptance had come a little faster than normal, so he was probably excited, too. Kyouya had been difficult to convince, but Tamaki had loads of experience in that department. Haruhi had only reluctantly acquiesced when, after much whining and wheedling, Tamaki offered to send a car to meet her a few blocks away from her house. They had all appeared by 2:00 in the afternoon, and the game began.

"Welcome, my humble servants!" Tamaki proclaimed once all had been gathered into the salon. "I have invited you here because, as I informed you over the telephone, there is something terribly important which we all must do together." He surveyed his subjects. The twins and Hani-senpai waited with bated breath. Mori-senpai looked impassive. Kyouya and Haruhi looked unconvinced. Good. All was as expected. "We must play… Follow the Leader!"

The twins jumped up and down a few times before turning to each other and asking in harmony, "What's 'follow the leader'?"

Haruhi sighed and slouched her shoulders. "Senpai. You called us all her on a weekend to play follow the leader? Couldn't this have waited until tomorrow? I could be home doing something productive with my time!"

"Oh, but my darling Haruhi, what could be a more productive use of one's time than to spend it creating precious memories with one's father?" Haruhi's countenance conspicuously failed to glow with familial fervor, but Tamaki forged ahead regardless. "I shall, of course, be the Leader, but you may all follow me in whatever order you desire."

"But the rules, what are the rules?" asked the twins.

Tamaki closed his eyes, tilted his head down, put his right hand to his temple, then flicked all three up and open in a characteristic gesture that practically sparkled with unbridled self-confidence. "The rules are simple. You must line up behind me and do exactly as I do! Wherever I go, you must obediently follow; however I act you must reverently imitate! The game is obviously a brilliant contrivance dreamed up by some loving King of yore, not unlike myself, to pass the time with his faithful court in happy concord!"

Haruhi looked at the twins. They were mildly perturbed. Evidently they did not appreciate being referred to as a "faithful court." Kyouya's eyes were hidden but his glasses winked dangerously. He seemed to share the twins' sentiments. Haruhi, who was sitting next to him on the couch, shrunk in Pavlovian fashion away from him. Hani-senpai, on the other end of the couch, nodded enthusiastically. He was clearly taking this game just as seriously as Tamaki. Mori-senpai showed the faintest signs of displeasure, but it was easy to confuse impassivity with displeasure, and his impassivity was flawless. (Tamaki decided to assume he was indeed excited but too Mori-senpai to show it.)

"Now, my subjects, let us begin!" Tamaki struck a theatrical pose leaning in the direction of the doorway, and the twins, sensing the humorous possibilities of following Tamaki's lead exactly, jumped into line behind him, each holding a pose impressively similar to Tamaki's. Hani-senpai followed the twins, and Mori-senpai followed Hani-senpai. Haruhi sighed and got into line and pose. Kyouya followed suit. Haruhi briefly reflected on the surrealism of being bookended by the towering, masculine, dark-haired frames of Kyouya and Mori-senpai twisted into stances that were nearly ballet-like – but quickly thought better of it and abandoned herself to exasperation and Tamaki's inevitable antics.

For a gleeful half an hour, Tamaki traipsed about the rooms and grounds of the Suou second mansion. He pranced over ottomans and slithered under duvets. He slinked around rose bushes, vaulted over Antoinette, skipped in circles around the fountain of the boy pouring water from an endless bucket in the south garden. And his faithful subjects followed him. The twins eventually tired of subtle mockery and moved on to full-fledged sarcasm in their imitation of Tamaki's movements – where he spread his arms gracefully, they flung their arms with grotesque passion; where he leapt lightly, they nanced like Shakespearean fools; etc. Tamaki didn't notice, and nobody else was particularly amused by their antics, but the twins enjoyed themselves enormously. Hani-senpai matched Tamaki in his genuine devotion to the game. Mori-senpai was unreadable. Behind her, Haruhi thought she could hear Kyouya's teeth grinding. Herself, Haruhi toyed with the notion that the she was actually enjoying this bout of childishness, then decided that she had never much liked toys and that she was probably just going insane.

And then they all came tumbling – literally – back into the main foyer, and the game abruptly stopped. Tamaki rose slowly from his crouch. The others followed suit, but not out of respect for the game. They just felt ridiculous crouching down like that. Especially in her presence. Suou-sama was standing in the foyer, eyeing them as if they were knock-kneed donkeys somebody was trying to pass off as race horses.

Tamaki opened his arms. "Obaasama!"

"Tamaki. What manner of foolishness is this? You bring reproach upon the Suou name."

There was silence.

"Shima," she turned to the ancient woman in charge of Tamaki's household. "You will ensure that these children are properly escorted off the premises."

Shima bowed, and the Host Club scurried towards the door. Tamaki took a step forward.

"Obaasama, I did not realize you were coming to see me today. I'm so glad! Had I known I would have –"

"Do not come any closer to me."

Haruhi turned to look at Tamaki's grandmother. Tamaki thought she looked as though she might say something, but Kyouya put a hand on her shoulder and steered her to the door before she could.

"I came because I wanted to know what you do with yourself in your spare time. I assumed you did nothing useful, but I hoped to be incorrect. I see that I was not. You fritter away your precious time with uncultured frivolities. Surely a boy whose wish it was to inherit one of the most powerful companies in Japan would understand that his youth must be spent in preparation. Not play. Yet again, Tamaki, you prove to me that you are too inadequate to be the successor to your father's position."

Tamaki smiled, bowed his head slightly. "Yes, Obaasama. I understand. I don't dedicate enough time to important things. I need much more education about business. I will speak to Father about it immediately. Thank you."

She harrumphed. "Kizuno," she said, turning to a black-suited man who had accompanied her. "I'm leaving."

----

How could the boy still treat her with respect? He must be spineless. She did everything in her power to crush his spirit, to incite him to rebellion, to force him to leave, or grow up. And still he tried to please her. Still he acted as though he lovedher. It was just too much. That she could treat him so poorly (as poorly as he deserved!) and he could continuously forgive her – either it demonstrated a humility that could never be allowed in a Suou heir, or it reeked of an arrogance that had to be pulled up by the roots lest the brat forget his place. What was most frustrating was that she could not decide which it was: deepest humility or haughtiest arrogance. What could possibly motivate a boy of his talents to accept her treatment of him? It was impenetrable.

Suou-sama took a sip of her tea to calm herself. She must not let that malignance fluster her. She must not allow his inferior nature to mar her perfect dignity. She took another sip. She would not let him ruffle her.

Suou-sama looked out her window onto her perfect garden. She had personally designed it and overseen its landscaping to ensure that it met her high aesthetic standards. It was balanced and well-kept, mostly green and stone, and adorned with small, contained points of color arranged in elegant patterns. Its unblemished and graceful formality had always helped her maintain her own stately composure.

She felt a vein in her forehead twitch and she slammed her teacup down. That cursed boy!