When we relive the inner depths of what we most desperately want to forget, there's always bound to be complications. The scars while still left on you hurt just like they once did years back, the conflictions of emotions return full force, and you feel utterly lost. Why now, why are you forced to live through such a thing. They say it helps you heal; it'll make everything seem less scary. But in the end if you only succeed in making a poor guy cry and shut out all who matters, did that really help? Sometimes in your greatest moments of weakness, you don't want everyone to see you. Your ice out shell refreezes over itself, and you become victim to the dark corners of your past. Where the light is but a tiny lick of a flame. Can you even fight your way back…

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Everything was going to come out of the shadows now.

The walls, they were so tall. Everything in his mansion of a house larger than he remembered. Even on tiptoes he found it futile to try and reach for a doorknob. So off he walked, down that foreboding hallway. He found it amusing that its inner vastness and absence of bright light scared him, like it did when he was younger. He found himself rushing past the portraits and photos of Ohtori's past, their stern faces and glares enough to convince him they were following him. So off he ran, flying past the servants, who only dared to stop and cluck their tongues at the energy of this youngest Ohtori. Who knew he would be the most hyper and loud of all? It was a welcome sight to see him though. He brought life to this museum of a house. With the oldest son always involved in high school activities, the daughter off with her friends in teenage things, and the next son so busy with studying for the middle school entrance exams, this youngest Ohtori made their jobs feel a little less glum.

And this youngest Ohtori lived it up. He knew he was their favorite, and often found a way to slip extra snacks or hugs when one of his family members wasn't looking. What was there not to love about this guy? He was so comical looking, much more so than anyone else. And some of the maids, in all their gossip, guessed already that this youngest Ohtori would be quite the heartthrob, much more than his older brothers. And his eyes, so large and round, he was the only one besides his sister who could make grey seem like such a lively color.

So everyone loved this youngest Ohtori, who would scamper up to you with hair in a spiky mess and eyes so bright for a smile or some new playmate. It seemed the Ohtori way hadn't been embedded just yet, and everyone but his family was glad about that. There was still a few years of fun left for this boy, before the pressures of being the third son would occupy all his thoughts.

Although there was one family member who agreed with the serving staff. And it wasn't a secret that this youngest Ohtori was her favorite child. Perhaps that was why the other siblings, except for Fuyumi-sama, bless her heart, shined off this boy. She understood how much love he would have to receive, especially for a boy in his position. But this youngest Ohtori today was making his way to the best room in the house, according to him, much better than the ridiculously large space that he called his own. In to the sitting room at the back of the house, past corners and hallways of all sizes. This room he seemed to know where it was, anywhere in the mansion. Now if only he could figure out where the other rooms were, a thought voiced by the stern master often. But then she would hush him, allowing the youngest Ohtori to be free of criticism, for the time being.

And off he ran almost at her sitting room, private for only her and her favorite child. The many maids smiled to themselves, never ceased to see how eager the Little Master was to see her. But one maid found her way to the little boy before he entered the room, and kneeling down she set the pile of linens beside her. Arms stretched out the boy ran into her, momentarily halting his journey to the sitting room. Arms encased him and she snuggled with the boy, adamantly ignoring the stares of the others. Little Master also had a best friend besides the lady he was planning to see, and that was the lowly chamber-maid Itsuki. She was the one to go to if his other preference was busy, Itsuki was the one to go to for a tuck-in at bedtime or a story to entertain his thoughts.

So with a voice high and loud he called out "Itsuki!" Who replied with an equally energetic "Ohtori-chama!" She grinned into his hair, pulling away so her vibrant green eyes could stare into his grey. "Now tell me Ohtori-chama, what's the rush?" The smallest Ohtori just smiled, raising his eyebrows in a manner that would be called a smirk later on in life. "Don't be silly Itsuki. You know where I'm going!" She sighed, ruffling his hair before letting him go. "I suppose you're right, I do. But I can't help but feel a little jealous." She stood up, feigning hurt. But the young child, he didn't yet understand it was fake. With wide eyes he tugged on the hem of her skirt, pleading her to look down. "Don't be! After you can tell me a story and we can go look at birds in the yard like we did yesterday!" For the smallest Ohtori, life was still full of fun and enjoyment. Trivial pleasures he would soon regret for taking granted of later in life.

Knowing she didn't have the heart to continue this façade she broke into a grin, giving him a last pat on the head before pushing him in the direction of the sitting room door. "Sure Ohtori-chama, whatever you wish." Giving him a last grin she picked up the abandoned bundle of linens, making her way down the hall. Many of the other staff as usual near glared at her, for being so friendly with an Ohtori! Especially considering she was still a young maid and new to the staff. She was only nineteen, and had worked there for a year after leaving high school. The fact she was easily one of the best-looking servants there didn't help. With her green eyes and vibrant strawberry blonde hair, it was a wonder she was considered Japanese. Many times the youngest Ohtori joked, saying she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and would thus marry her when he gets older. "When I'm mature enough to do so, how about when I'm twelve?" His innocence never ceased to bring a smile to her face. He was such a sweet child, and she felt it was her relationship with the boy that had spared her job on numerous occasions.

But everyone in the family disapproved of this connection, even Fuyumi on occasions. It wasn't right for the boy to be so close to a maid, one who was probably going to be transferred or fired one of these days soon. So as the youngest son bolted in, shutting the door behind him as best he could for his height, a lone figure sitting by the window greeted him. A woman with short raven hair, feathered at the base of her neck sat atop a window seat cushion, a tray of tea and hot cakes accompanying her. He eyed the steam as he walked up to her, careful to not run into the tray.

"Ah, here's my sunshine!" The boy jumped up next to her on the cushion, her pale hand finding its way to run through his hair. Brown eyes, dark as the cherry oak furniture looked down at the boy. "What took you so long? My little five year old too busy to spend time with me now?" He huffed, arms crossed. "I only just turned five a few weeks ago you know." She let loose a chuckle, pulling him close. "Of course, how could I forget. Didn't you want a dinosaur for your birthday?" An eagerly nodding head answered her, words muffled as crushed his face to her small frame. "And I know they're extinct, but a fossil would have worked just as well." She sighed. Ever the bright child.

"Well now, even if you didn't get that, I'm sure you liked your other presents." "Oh yes! Itsuki gave me this blanket! It was blue, and in it she stitched my name on one side, the date and her name on the other side. So I won't ever forget her. But then I told her it was silly she should think of such a thing, since she is going to be with me forever."" Eyes narrowed over the youngest Ohtori's head, her grip tightening. "I don't think you should spend so much time with that girl. I don't trust her." Puzzled the boy looked up. "But she's my friend. She plays with me more than my brothers and sister, and she says she loves me more than you or Father…Oh." His eyes grew wide, out of fear. "I didn't mean that! I mean, she just always seems to be around more than either of you, so I guess it just-"

Without ever breaking her stoic face a hand calmly reached out, slapping itself against the boy's cheek with force.

With a snap his head rammed against the glass window, his body hitting the frame and falling down to the other side of the cushion. His small hand was hiding the red, trying to block out the pain. Eyes shut he brought himself to a bowed position, face buried in the cushions, like she told him to do when he was very bad. "I'm s-sorry. I didn't mean it!" His voice came out in a squeak, frantic. She had scolded him many times before, but never reached out. This just, shocked him.

"What did I tell you about respecting your elders?" "I'm sorry!" "You should be little one." With a cold grip she brought his quivering chin up, tilting his head to inspect the damage. Clucking her tongue, she forced his stare to be directed at her. Eyes still narrowed, she frowned. "Don't be staring at me with those deer eyes. You're making me feel almost sorry for punishing you." "P-Punishing…"She sighed. The boy was quite bright for his age, but still lacked sense at times. "Yes. You know how I have scolded in the past, and started to sound like a broken record. Well, if you're old enough to be smarting off, then you're old enough to deal with new reprimandents. Think of it as more than scolding. But it'll be a secret. Only you and I should have to concern ourselves with this matter. Okay?" He nodded, cheeks wincing with pain. "Good. And you take care to not mention this to that idiot girl Itsuki. Or else I will have her leave, no matter what you say." His young heart pulsed nervously. He liked Itsuki, she couldn't leave. So he had to listen to her. It was only right. "Okay." Finally a smile broke out on the woman's face.

With outstretched arms she brought the boy closer, seeming to ignore the millisecond of reluctance he had when she touched him. She shushed his whimpers, rocking them both gently on the cushion. "It's alright. Just listen to me, okay? Everything will be alright." Brown eyes flashed over his form, as he was trying to forget. She was acting nice again, everything would be alright. He shouldn't have said that, he was right. It was his fault, he deserved that slap. His five year old mind was busy at work, trying to direct the blame at his deserving self. Certainly not at her.

But her earthen gaze fell on the teapot, the steam rising in tendrils. It was quite hot. Too hot for her. Her mouth slipped into a grin all but friendly. "It's okay, just quiet down, or I might have to give your more punishment." His jolt of fright made her laugh, while she still eyed the sure-to-be scalding pot of tea. "Hush little one, hush YoYo-chan." He whispered, into her own silken dress of deep purple. "Okay, I will Mama. " He would, he would try to the best he could. Like the good little boy he was. He was his mother's favorite after all.

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Haruhi's footsteps echoed in the hallway, this place all but bare. After the Ohtori special agents or whatever they wanted to call themselves showed up, no doubt by Kyouya's cell phone signal, she all but pleaded to come along. She had to honor Fuyumi's orders, for she told her to not leave Kyouya's side, by any means necessary. So here she found herself in a supposedly secret clinic of one of the many Ohtori hospital branches, somewhere in Sendai she believed. All on Fuyumi's orders. It was funny, for before a few hours ago she never knew that Kyouya even had a sister. And she seemed so happy, as she first answered. But then after explaining the situation, she too gained that air of confidence. She figured it was a family thing.

But Haruhi, a part of her was still frantic at Kyouya's well-being. She could only catch a bit of the medical garble being spoken as they raced here, and all she knew now of his condition was that he currently had entered a cationic state. She knew that much, she knew it was not better than a coma. But one where he was still conscious, on the inside. So while he shut off the entire world, on the inside, his mind was surely a horrid place to be. If how he was acting before slipping away was a sign of anything.

Like a lost puppy she trailed in a room after they finally wheeled him through. He was placed near machines, something she told herself to not worry about. They were standard heart rate and blood pressure monitors, nothing like what she experienced before. Hospitals for Haruhi were a place she rather not be, after the death of her mother. But Kyouya wasn't sick like that, here she was losing her senses just because he was in trouble, of the mental kind.

After those doctors, the men in white coats left Haruhi took it upon herself to call her father, alert him of not going to be home right away.

"Umm, dad?"

"Haruhi!! How's your date going?"

A vein twitched. No matter how much she persuaded him otherwise, he still had it in that crazy brain of his that she and Kyouya were going out now. Something he welcomed with open arms and she disagreed with passionately.

"…Dad, it's not a date."

"Pfft. Fine, play hard to get for the poor boy."

"Dad, I'm not going to be home soon, I think I might be home around tomorrow even."

The silence on the other end was deadly, just as much as the growl erupting from Ranka-san's end of the line.

"WHY? Is it that boy?! I knew I should have never trusted that Kyouya. I always said stay away from guys wearing glasses. They always end up being the devil themselves. Too smart for their own good I say. So I will just rush on down right now to pick you up and save my beloved daughter from his evil clutches."

"Dad, it's not like that."

"and you being so noble! Too much for your own good. If he's pressuring you in any way, I'll be sure to snap that rich neck of his."

"D-Dad, it's because of the Host Club. Tamaki-sempai dragged us into some other stupid weekend activity. They're paying for it and everything though. We'll just be in Sendai somewhere."

"Oh, then that's different!"

"Good…"

"I'll just have to crack that idiot blonde's head in two then!"

She paled.

"Have fun Haruhi!"

"Okay then Dad."

"But not too much fun."

"Right. Bye."

After Ranka hung up, she collapsed in a chair next to Kyouya's bedside. She hated lying to her father, she never did. But then what possessed her to do so now? Did the fact Kyouya was in the center of all this mean anything? It was a puzzling thought indeed. But upon mention of the Shadow King, she gave a sad sigh. Up she stood, walking to his bed's edge. With shaky hands she placed his glasses on the end table, bringing her hand back to run through his bangs. He remained irresponsive, and she fully couldn't believe the situation. Just because he accidently punched her, hit her without thinking, all this happened? Did harming her really affect him that much? And her face was only red in the right corner of her brow, not something to be that worried about.

But Kyouya, his reaction did. The only sounds were the beeps of those machines, not even a loud breathing coming from him. Was he even breathing, what he was dreaming about. She desperately wanted to know. So engrossed she was in thinking that the arrival of a certain raven-haired female she ignored.

But upon entering the room where her brother lied, the girl huddled over him, at his bedside, she couldn't stop the gasp that left her lips, mouth went to her mouth in shock. Very quickly Haruhi stepped back, hands ripping out of his hair, face very red. "I'm s-s-sorry. I didn't know I was over-stepping anything, please forgive me for my forwardness." Haruhi bowed down, as Fuyumi approached her, the voice usually so loud and cheerful lowered to a whisper. "My, so you are Haruhi Fujioka." Puzzled she raised her head, nodding. "Yes. Kyouya has told you about me?" To respect her brother's privacy she gave a small laugh, hand waving in the air. "Who doesn't know about this very special, apparently female scholarship student."

"I see." Haruhi sat herself down at the chair, glance never leaving the woman's. But I do have to say Kyouya never has told me about having a sister." Making her way to her brother's bedside, she gave the girl a sad smile. "I tend to be a sister he enjoys the presence of quite guiltily." Her hand went to the boy's shoulder, squeezing it in affection. "On many accounts I've been told that I'm just like that friend of his Tamaki, with my hyper tendencies and fascination of the commoner lifestyle." Inwardly Haruhi groaned. Now she could understand why such a sister would be kept secret by him.

"But the reason why I was so shocked upon entering, you see. I never saw you before, or a picture. So as you stood there, huddled and eyes so full of compassion for my poor brother, and your eyes, your whole look, even your voice a tad." Fuyumi met Haruhi's gaze, not sure whether this was good or bad for Kyouya. "You see, you seemed just like our mother just now, granted your hair is brown instead of black, but other than that…" Haruhi, her mid was swimming. So there was a mother in the picture. But then why no mention of her? Why was his older sister, instead of a mother, so tenderly taking care of Kyouya? And she looked like herself? The wife to one of the most powerful men in Japan, looked like a commoner girl.

"His…Mother." "Yes, which is why I'm so shocked Kyouya cares for you so, not to mean any disrespect Haruhi-chan." Her head snapped up, not quite believing what she just heard. "Kyouya-sempai, cares for me? Certainly there's a mistake." Seeing she quite over-stepped the guidelines set for her by her brother. Fuyumi chose to answer Haruhi's obvious next question.

"Haruhi-chan, our mother, meant so much more to my youngest brother than any of us siblings. I mean I cared for her, as a daughter often does, but with Kyou-chan, it was different." Haruhi stood up, making her way to Kyouya's bed again opposite his sister. "In my knowledge she wasn't a bad mother, but in my knowledge she wasn't a bad mother, but m poor little brother, he seemed to think of her as his protector, he feared her as if she was a god. It was always puzzlesome to us other siblings. We never felt as connected to our mother in that way. But Kyouya, especially after he turned five, he changed." Fuyumi's eyes went distant, hand continuing to rub down the boy's shoulder. "He was so happy and bright, full of life before that year. You would hardly have recognized him. Tell anyone back then Kyouya Ohtori would grow up to be this outer cold shell of a person, no matter how caring on the inside, they would have laughed at you. It was our two other brothers, Akito and Makabi who were to be the serious clones of Father. Kyouya was to be the bright spot, the happy go-lucky son." Fuyumi's eyes flickered, her gaze to Kyouya's still form. "And I would have given anything to have that prediction come true." Haruhi, to her this was all news. Kyouya assumed to be the fruitful, joyous child. Then why, what happened. "You're probably wondering what happened." Haruhi gave a jump. So she could read thoughts too?

"I'm not at liberty to say what went on, I feel it should be Kyou-chan's story to tell you. Right now I just want my brother to snap out of this." "Will he?" "I'm sure, it only seems right." Fuyumi spoke of this as if it happened before. But no, Haruhi shook her head. But why?

"He'll wake up when he comes to truth with what happened. It certainly took longer than I expected, twelve years is certainly a long enough time to be repressing all this." "Repressing, Kyouya-sempai?" Fuyumi sighed, stepping back to give her and Kyouya space. "What did he do to make him like this?" Haruhi, starting down at the seemingly peaceful Kyouya, reached up, brushing aside where her brown hair covered her forehead. Fuyumi, upon seeing the red looked down at her brother, at his still fisted, frozen hand. "And this was in reaction to you touching him yes?" "Well, I've reached out to Kyouya-sempai before, and him to me in his own ways. But it seems everyone else, and me at times too, if I'm too sudden, he'll jump." The older female's brow rose, head tilted. "And I'm only assuming it's because of who you are Haruhi-chan. Kyouya has a mind which hides problems so easily, he tucks them away until they burrow in his mind and explode into bigger problems, like you see happening now. The appearance of you, the stress he's been under,-" "The dreams." Fuyumi froze, whispered back. "The dreams?" "He told me he has had dreams these past few weeks, of being dropped by a woman I assumed, who had this smell which upturned unpleasant memories he said. And she said YoYo-chan, this really seemed to scare Kyouya-sempai." "Unbelievable."

Haruhi now titled her head, puzzled. "Fuyumi-san?" "While I can't say Kyou-chan doesn't like you, on the contrary I think you are held in great regard for him, I can't fear but you, your presence riled up some greater feelings." Her heart stopped, blood ran cold. "So I caused this…""NO! No. I think the fact you saying these dreams started a few weeks ago, when a few weeks ago was May 2nd, and you looking so much like her, it all just fell apart for poor Kyou-chan." "He mentioned May 2nd, to me. Before I reached out and noticed that…" "That what Haruhi-chan?" So his family didn't really know. He kept it from them.

Haruhi's failure to answer Fuyumi just shrugged, her eyes not leaving Kyouya. "But you see, May 2nd, 1998. Eleven years ago. It only made sense everything started to happen these past few weeks. That date you see, that was the day when our mother died."

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"Ohtori-chama, are you up for building a tower of cards, a story?" "No Itsuki-san, not today." It was a few months after Kyouya turned five, a cold February morning. And it puzzled the young adult to no end the sudden change over the Young Master. Lately he has gotten more and more reserved, not seeking out anyone's attention or love than his mother. It was like she had become his only person in life, the only one he allowed himself to get close to. And it hurt Itsuki terribly. The day he started adding san to her name, she just wanted to hug the poor child. And she did, but soon let go as he froze in her arms, totally unresponsive. Where was the bright, giggling boy who rushed into a willing embrace?

Lately he had changed, he was becoming like his brothers even. So Itsuki just sighed, giving him a gentle pat on the hand. She tried to ignore how he brought his head forward, arms tucked into himself. "Suit yourself Ohtori-chama. I'm just lonely you know. I'm missing my little friend." And then, so quickly, he turned to her, voice no more than a whisper, eyes anxious. "Me too Itsuki-san, me too." Then out of nowhere a figure appeared, walking down the hall to meet up with the two.

"Itsuki," a stern voice called out. Bumbling she bowed down, eyes on the floor. "Ohtori-sama. What shall I do?" Kyouya, upon his mother entering the scene seemed to have shrunk, his head also down and buried in her skirts. "I'm sorry Mama," was what he seemed to have called out, or at least what Itsuki could make out. "Itsuki?" "H-Hai?!" "I think you should listen to my son. If he says he doesn't want to play, you shouldn't push him. He has much more important things to be worrying about than mindless games with meaningless servants. Do you understand?" Itsuki slowly raised her head, the harsh brown eyes seeming to be burning her soul. "H-Hai Ohtori-sama. I apologize, it will not happened again." "It won't, for now I am herby forbidding you to have any contact with my son."

At once the two called out in protest, Itsuki with a "Madame!" and Kyouya with a "M-Mama?" Eyes glinting dangerously, she grabbed hold of her son, pushing him harshly behind her. "You are in no position to say otherwise. Obey that order if you want to continue working here, you got that maid?" Itsuki bowed, eyes cast downwards. Ohtori-sama never did like her she knew, but this was so final, so sudden. She barely even talked with the boy. What was she scared of Kyouya saying or doing with her? But she was right, she had no place to think otherwise. So with a final bow and quick, sad glance in the quivering boy's direction she walked back, towards the main hall. "I understand and obey Ohtori-sama. I apologize for my forward behavior with Ohtori-chama." The elder female only nodded in response, waiting until Itsuki had left before glowering at the boy beneath her. Itsuki, as she walked away, made it a mental note to find out exactly what was wrong with the Young Master. Her gut feeling told her that Ohtori-sama was at the bottom of Kyouya's seemingly newfound strange behavior.

So forward the mother strode, down to her sitting room, a stumbling and gabbing Kyouya following suit. She ignored him, ignored his common excuses and apologies. Already, so soon, he was going back to that girl. Of course he tried to rebuff that maid, she made sure that Kyouya learned to do such a thing. But still, she saw that gaze. It was enough for that blasted girl to probably find out something. Which was why Kyouya needed to be taught a lesson once more. It was his fault really. Something he too was pleading out to her. Like she wanted to hear excuses made out of desperation and pity. So in the two went, taking care the door was locked behind them. As she made her way to the window seat, the meek boy trailed behind, warily watching from the middle of the room. The ever-present tray of hot tea and cakes was there. But now, a fairly new addition for these past few weeks as atop that tray as well. Ohtori-sama's sewing needle. It wasn't a mystery she sewed, it was something she often achieved during her spare time. And she was quite skilled too, making various afghans and blankets for her family. But of course most of her projects were for Kyouya. Her favorite child.

But it was that sewing needle the small boy feared, what he hated. As soon as he caught sight of the metal point his mother grinned, happy he was catching on so fast. His hand immediately went to the right arm, trying to tug the sleeve of the long shirts he often wears now. Because of that needle. So up the lady went, reaching out for the sanitized needle, walking close to the cowering boy.

"NO! Mama, I said I was sorry, PLEASE MAMA!" She tsked the boy under her breath. "What have I told you about yelling YoYo-chan?" The closer she went, the boy backed up against the wall in the small sitting room. He looked around, trying to find something, anything. Ever so calm, with a touch of ice, she grabbed his right arm, the sleeve sliding down. "No! Please Mama!" Tears already were springing from his grey eyes, eyes that had seen already the dark side of love. "no yelling YoYo-chan, I'll only have to punish you more if you do so." The small boy was thrashing under his mother's grip, her fingers pressing down on the past evidence of her punishment.

It was exactly what a certain girl would see, approximately eleven years from now. With time they would fade to that pale glazed over white most scars were reduced to, only noticeable if you started hard enough and looked for them. But now, they were fresh, and clearly visible. It both pleased and disgusted the mother, it frightened Kyouya to death.

For starting at the base of his wrist were thin lines, thin red ruptures of his flesh. Some were straight, others jagged, depending on her mood for the day. They all snaked down though, to the crook of his elbow. The sensitive skin of his underarm was plagued with the consequences of his actions. Only he was responsible for this pain. Which was what she told him, and what he believed.

So here he was, yelling out, frantic cries of forgiveness and apologizes mixed together. "M-Mama! MAMA! I'm s-s-sorry, I'll be good. I did bad and I'll be good!" He was on his knees, arm yanked painfully and awkwardly out as she balanced it on her knee. Devoid of emotion she looked down at the sobbing child, eyes brown and soulless. "That's what you say every time." Before he could bore her more with his excuses down the needle went, just centimeters away from his pulse vein. He screamed, not bothering to try and quiet down as his mother told him to do. Luckily this whole house was built soundproof, so no nosy servants would have their ears split by this troublesome child's yells. "I don't know why you keep on doing bad." As she talked the needle dragged itself in, scraping down his arm at her slow, collected pace. He red carpet below. It never needed cleaning, for it was colored almost daily. People was particularly loud today, so she made sure that this line was to be jagged. In a zigzag motion the outer skin ripped out, blood leaking out and staining the carpet, conveniently a deep red. Often she was complimented the rich red, asking how she possibly got it to never fade. Blood was the answer.

Kyouya threw himself to the ground, the blood leaking down and out of his outstretched arm and trailing through his mass of hair. It hurt, no matter how much it happened he couldn't' get used to the pain, couldn't block it out numb like his mother told him to. So on and on he screamed, stopping only to cough and hack out more sobs. His left arm was pressed into his body, thankfully never harmed but he still feared. Then, after this seemed to carry on for years the needle left his skin, stopping just shy of his elbow. The needle, dripping red, she took care to place in the pin cushion adorning a nearby table. It too was red, although it used to be white.

She dropped Kyouya's arm, making her way to a dresser where gauze was kept. Not yelling he just heaved dry sobs, trying to hold back more cries, more pleas. Lock these emotions away. Lock up his feelings as she so often told him to do. Which was what the boy was trying to do now, collapsed on the floor, his right arm a gruesome thing to look at. He shut his eyes, turning his head away. As she came upon his arm again, this time with the touch of so gentle a mother. She sighed, wrapping up the arm, even kissing it to try and assuage the pain. "I hate it when you misbehave. I hate what I do." Kyouya stayed silent. Better to not answer. He learned to never answer, unless he wanted the next step to be taken. She told him a nursery rhyme, haunting in nature.

First the wrist, then the shoulders, then the little boy will smolder.

He had only went up to shoulders twice, both instances where he foolishly wore a short-sleeve shirt in public. Thankfully he had the bandage around his arm, but when they got home she made sure that his shoulders now, both sides were punished. By slapping them, using a ruler type object even he didn't know she had. She spanked him like that until they grew red and bleed, until he got the message. There were rules he had to listen to, because he was a good little boy.

He yanked his arm back as soon as she bandaged him up, her touch now something he grew to fear. Along with others now, he was discovering. For who knew if someone else, seemingly nice, punished like his mother. Behind those smiles everyone could be hurting their children behind closed doors. Precautions had to be made.

"YoYo-chan." He stiffened, before bringing himself to a sitting position, resting his red-bandaged arm across his lap. He leaned his head against the wall, eyes wide and fearful, and his voice quiet as always now. "Yes M-Mama." "I hate your eyes. I hate how you look at me." He quickly shut his eyes, head bowed to avoid her gaze. "I'm sorry Mama." He felt her footsteps receded, heard the clink of the tea pot as she poured her tea, always scalding and undrinkable in a pretty china cup. Then he felt her shadow as she walked back, tea in her hand. He didn't know what she was going to do. Hopefully she wouldn't pour it over him. He hadn't been that bad yet right? He squeezed his injured arm, trying to distract himself from the pain and thoughts.

"I don't believe I told you to close your eyes. I just told you I hated them. Look at me." Her voice, so melodic, so haunting. So much he hated it, but loved it. He had to.

His neck he rose, eyes up at her. The tea was high up, near her lips. He could see the steam already. "Y-Yes Mama?" "I wonder how you would look with glasses." He allowed himself to be puzzled, eyebrows bunching together. "B-But my eyes, I can see. Only Father and one-chan wear them." The tea cup lowered, its contents precariously making waves in the cup. "Yes, your father and Makabi wear them, so why not you? Because you want to be like your brothers. They're such good boys. They never needed punishment, like you." He nodded, eyes still focused on the tea cup. "B-But Mama, how can I wear glasses?" Her mouth turned down, brow creased. "How many times have I told you to not speak out?" "I'm sorry Mama!" "It's fine, I just let myself get carried away. Listen to me now. I think you should wear glasses now. Do you agree?" Kyouya nodded his head. Whatever she said, he had to agree.

His grip tightened on his arm, the pain still there. "So in order to have you wear glasses, so the eyes I hate I won't have to see anymore, something needs to be done." Lower the cup went, it was there, laughing at him. Her words were barely processed. He was just inching against the wall some more, arms hugged to his body. "Just remember when you get the glasses to always have them glare, like your Father's and Makabi's do. So people won't have to stare at your ugly, ugly eyes. So they won't know what you're thinking. Because if people find out what you're thinking, find out about all we do, I'll be very angry. I'll make Itsuki go away."

She leaned down, tea cup inches from Kyouya, her face next to his. Her breath, clean and fresh with the scent of a faraway spice, the smell haunted him. "I'll be angry. Everything that we've done and will do in the future will pale in comparison. Closer she came, the closer the cup came. "I will make your life a living hell if mine becomes one."Before he could blink she brought herself up, the tea cup still in her grasp as the herbal water, hot and boiling was thrown into his wide-eyed stare.

The rest of this instant was a blur to Kyouya, even he couldn't recall in his own fragile sub-conscious what happened. All he could keep track of was her laugh, how the pain in his eyes was a thousand times worse than any he had experienced, or would. He remembered how he based his head into the floor, his eyes burning as they leaked tears. Then there was his mother acting frantic, the servants in fright. Even his father came, mumbling with his mother about his clumsiness. Did he run in into the tea cart? He didn't remember Itsuki though, whose face was hard set at his mother. He didn't know she suspected something now. He just remembered a few days later, now equipped with the rimless glasses still worn, even today. And he remembered how much his eyes hurt after that, how without the glasses his vision was worse than anyone's in the family. He remembered how he would always look at his mother with the familiar glare of his glasses. And he remembered how much he hated tea after that.

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Haruhi sat down, making way on the chair behind her. So much information to process, in but a few short hours. How was she to know the "non-sequential" family member was his very own mother. Fuyumi's attention went from the girl to the wildly beeping monitor next to her. Kyouya's heart pattern seemed to be racing. In his coma-like state he must have run across a memory, a particularly bad one. If only she knew what Kyouya did, if only Haruhi knew. But no, this was only for Kyouya's slipping mind, at the moment. So Haruhi, she sat back limply in the chair, all questions of what she was going to say forgotten in this instant.

"Is he okay?" She eyed the monitor warily. Fuyumi, her hand trailing to Kyouya's clutched fist, tried to smooth the taught nerves under her own grip. "I could only hope. He probably is stuck in a particularly jarring memory. If only we knew. Then we could help him I'm sure." Haruhi, wise in matters pertaining to a dead mother, only shook her head. "Not always. Sometimes you just have to fight through things on your own, and be comforted after the battle is over." Her gaze flickered to Kyouya, whose back was to her. Already he seemed to have been in that fetal position of his. She wondered how it never came to notice before.

"Right now Kyouya-sempai, just needs us to be there for him when he wakes up." Fuyumi nodded wordlessly. This girl, who looked so much like their mother, she was right. Fuyumi squeezed the hand of her brother, thoughts focused on him. "Wake up nee-chan. There's a girl waiting for you. To help lead you out." She whispered this, so Haruhi wouldn't hear. "What happened that I don't know about?"

Kyouya, his eyelids flickered briefly before shutting once again. His heart, though beating wildly, was hurting. And the pain would only get worse.

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Well. I think I should have posted a graphic warning for this chapter or something…Heh. Well, how do you all like this? Sorry it took two days to get out, I was just busy with my videos and such. I think I might work like that. Fanfiction one day, videos the next. You all think I should? And look up my youtube account, link in my profile. New vids out, and they're all funny. A different mood than his fanfic certainly at the moment! And I have some special news for all you Ouran fans. It just came to my attention yesterday, that the Ouran va's, and I mean the Japanese ones because the English dub is FAIL, in my book anyways. But the original Japanese va's, they each sang a character song for their own character! Kyouya's was the most sad, but considering it's Kyouya, makes sense yes? And his voice. Hearing Kyouya sing…*fangirl swoon moment* all the other hosts have songs too, and I suggest checking them out! Just go to my youtube account and go to my favorites. Tsumetai Yoru is Kyouya's, and from there you can find the other host's. It means cold night in English. So sad…and I'm positive that I'm going to incorporate it in my fanfic, at one point. So that's all for now, stay tuned for part two of Kyouya's painful trip down memory lane! And REVIEW!! Please? I love all my regular's, but according to my stats page plenty more people like the story, but never review. Take the time, a sentence even. It inspires me believe it or not, wants me to write even faster! Truly it does!

~ja ne