A child's memory is a confusing thing. How much can you trust their perceptions, how much are you willing to listen. When you ask a boy whose only perceptions are of monsters and ghosts, how exactly can you find the real truth locked away? And what if the very boy your asking is smarter than normal, a child with a very real conception of this world. Is his word to be trusted, don't you want to believe him? It is here where we go astray…

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And the pain would only get worse.

"Fuyumi-san…why has no one come here yet barreling in?" Fuyumi, only catching the end of Haruhi's sentence looked up, dropping her hand back in her lap. Sitting on the chair opposite Haruhi she leaned back, a small smile on her face. "I think you mean to say why reporters or the rest of your friends aren't barreling in at any second to see about my brother's well-being?" The girl was sharp, something which pleased the elder female greatly.

"You are right in suspecting such a thing, being an Ohtori you think news of this would have hit the reporters everywhere by now. The youngest son sick, heir to the Ohtori companies, why that would cause a whirlwind of activity in the business world I can tell you that. Many companies would be worried on such a thing." Haruhi nodded, it made sense, in a way you had to be rich to understand she supposed.

"But you see, even if I am without the Ohtori name anymore, I still have some access to their medical buildings. I live close to hear in Sendai, and my father gave me this clinic for my own personal private use. And the doctors here are under direct orders from me to keep all patients in here a secret, not to be disclosed to the general public. Besides, most of the patients here anyways are just simple, common people who come for check-ups and such. This is a free clinic mostly I gave to the city."

Certainly a surprising answer, one that Haruhi didn't expect. But she got up, making her way now to Kyouya's bedside, looking across at Fuyumi. "My, that's very kind of you. I didn't know Kyouya-sempai had such a sister. Makes sense he would keep the only caring Ohtori a secret." The elder gave a small laugh, seeing that Kyouya certainly had more to tell this girl. "Please Haruhi-chan. If it wasn't for his appearances to be kept up by our father and such, the Kyouya I know would have instilled a clinic just like this one in every poor neighborhood in Japan." She lowered her gaze to her brother. "He's such a kind-hearted boy underneath all his shields and defenses. I fear it was something he learned he must hide, or be forced to suffer through the consequences."

Haruhi felt a pang in her heart, hand reaching out to encompass Kyouya's right wrist. It seemed he was getting out of whatever state he was in, hopefully he would be out of it soon enough. But when he awoke, she was sure to ask more questions. There was still the matter of all this he was hiding from her, and she feared his family, or at least sister also. Why else wouldn't she be talking about, explaining Kyouya and what he found. And if it was what she feared, Haruhi could give another reason why Kyouya acted so shut off from the world. Why he tried to so thoroughly convince her and everyone else he was a self-centered egotistical jerk. She smiled, running her hand down his wrist and arm, following the thin grooves pale and taught in nature. With all the sleeveless shirts he's worn in the past, how did this go unnoticed, by anyone?

But she always did find it odd Kyouya, in casual attire, would seem to try to always wear something short-sleeved or sleeveless. As if he was flaunting this in everyone's face. Or just going through a slight stage of rebellion. Perhaps he was nagged as a child to wear long-sleeved shirts to cover these, and now he was acting out? Something one couldn't imagine for the youngest Ohtori, but then again, who would ever get close enough to look? He seemed to always be in the backlight, always careful to keep distance from people, even customers he was never forward or even close with, like the twins or Tamaki. Was there another reason he did such a thing?

She gave a sigh, pulling out the arm so Fuyumi could see it as well. Enough for guesses, now she needed to find real answers. "Fuyumi-san, did you know about these?" At mention of her name her gaze flickered from Haruhi's body, so blatantly trying to give comfort to her brother, to the arm she held out. She furrowed her brow, standing up to approach his bedside closer. "Notice what Haruhi-chan?" Out she held his arm further, dragging up the white sleeve so it passed his elbow, where the marks seemed to end. "These! How could these have gone unnoticed for so long, especially by his family?"

Fuyumi lowered her head, fingers lightly tracing the lines, some straight others jagged, that seemed to encompass his whole underside of the lower arm. His skin allowed these to be hidden, except in the direct light when the pale, taught, smooth scar tissue lit up, reflected the light almost as if a beacon. Her breath hitched the sight not foreign to her but utterly shocked that Haruhi learned about these. Her brother had always been careful in the past, making sure no one knew. But why her then?

Nodding grimly she gave the arm a pat, taking it from Haruhi and lowering it under the sheets once again. "I know of them. And not exactly you are right Haruhi-chan. You see, the family does know of them. At least of their existence." Her gaze flickered to Kyouya, his face set in a deep frown. "No one knows where they came from exactly. I remember when he didn't have them, as a small child. But it seems after our mother died, that's when they came to light. Excuse the pun." Haruhi didn't even notice, her now empty hand going out to his hair. A movement seemingly becoming more and more comfortable for the girl. It wasn't as weird to make contact with Kyouya now. Almost as if she was expected to run a hand through his hair, on top of his shoulder. In times of need one wanted to feel secure, wanted to know someone was by their side. Or at least that was what Haruhi often felt like during a thunderstorm. One of her moments of weakness.

"He never told you where they came from?" "You see, Kyouya a few months before our mother's death, Kyouya became an interesting boy. Always he seemed to wear long-sleeved shirts, always had that bandage across his arm. Our mother told us to think nothing of it so we didn't our lives already so filled with the trivialities someone of our status often experiences. But if only I had been more connected to my brother, as close to him then as I am now, as much as he would like to say otherwise." Her frown matched Kyouya's fingers still running up and down the grooves of his childhood. "Some wondered perhaps our mother knew something, for he always was with her. Many of the servants assumed such a thing, but we, as the family, who could think of it? She loved Kyouya our mother did; always made sure he never was far from her. It made me a little jealous actually." She gave chuckle of embarrassment. "I was her only daughter; you think she would be all over me with talks and presents. But no, Kyou-chan here was her shining light. This was why her death hit him the hardest."

Suddenly, her grip on his arm tightened slightly, the barely conscious Kyouya retracting the limb but a few centimeters, as an involuntarily reflex. "It was foolish of us to think these were self-inflicting, when Kyouya was so young. But we don't know. Our mother always did show disdain, a lack of trust in a maid particularly close to Kyouya. Itsuki was her name. She loved the boy as if he was her own. Something even I figured would not be good for Kyouya. In our world Haruhi, the status and relationships between the classes do have to be conducted as such. Slowly our mother dragged Kyouya away, but Itsuki, as our mother told us, was never happy at doing so. There was never any proof, but I along with our brothers thought that perhaps this maid had something to do with these scars. But Kyouya, being the boy he was, would never say ill of anyone. He just shrugged of our questions, always running off to mother when we got too inquisitive you see. And our mother too told us to not dwell on it so much. They were just simple scratches the clumsy boy received. They increased in number after he got his glasses you see."

Somehow, that story didn't add up. To Haruhi's mind, this story just didn't add up. One would think a true mother would have fired this Itsuki, even if they were just rumors. A mother is supposed to protect their child, have their safety be number one priority. But this mother, seemed too flippant about everything. But then, where did these scars very well come from? Nothing made sense. Haruhi shook her head out of frustration, fingers entangling themselves in the black mass of hair. She needed to know more.

"But Fuyumi-san, forgive me for being so direct, no one ever took it upon themselves to just ask Kyouya-sempai or his mother alone what this all meant?" "We were thinking of it, but then our mother passed on, and Itsuki just seemed so guilty, it was only reasonable we believed in out theory." "Guilty. How? And what exactly did your mother suffer from, how did she die?"

Fuyumi's face tightened, hand reaching out once more to Kyouya's arm. Here she traced a line far different from the others. It seemed to be deeper, much deeper. As if muscle too was harmed as whatever caused these lines to draw on. At times it was straight, others it seemed to jar off his arm entirely. Criss-crossing over the already present lines, even over the very veins where his pulse would be. A dangerous scar, one that surely had to be the most painful, cause the most danger to him.

She pointed it out, Haruhi removing her own hand to place it upon this new scar. "That was the only one we saw open, and it was by far the most dangerous one he received. It seemed to have been drawn out by a needle Haruhi; someone plunged a needle in my brother and dragged it down! Who could do such a thing…to such a small boy…?" Her voice trailed off, Haruhi trying to control the look of hate and disgust, wanting to spread across her features. Indeed, who would do such a thing to a boy? To Kyouya, it was horrible. To think someone, that girl Itsuki if Haruhi heard right was jealous enough, cruel enough to do such a thing. Her free hand clenched into a fist, eyes not leaving the arm. "And you know for sure she did this?" "Kyouya later would try and tell us that it wasn't her, but he was left in such a state after everything, we couldn't justly count on what he said. For some reason he still loved that girl, even after we found in her hand the very needle, bloody and red. We only had the right to assume that she was the cause for everything else. Wouldn't you agree?"

Fuyumi had a point, Haruhi had to nod. She herself was going to trust whatever Kyouya said, but until he woke up, what else was she to say? Itsuki, Kyouya's mother, they all seemed to be connected somehow, in however sinister a way. But she asked the question bugging her most of all. Perhaps it would give some light to this situation.

"Fuyumi-san, forgive me for asking about a detail obviously very delicate, but I have to know. What happened the day she died? What happened to Kyouya? You make it seem like he near was in a state of hysterics." "Not that far I'm afraid. Shortly after…that, he shut himself off, much like the way he is now. That's why I'm not as anxious now you see. He will wake up, probably later tonight, after he has come to terms with his own mind. I thought it so unusual for a boy so young going through all this in the past, for he was only five remember. But Kyouya, seemed to grow up in that period of time. After he woke up Kyouya always seemed to be distant from us all, not really remembering clearly the events that he was witness to days prior. His mind was boggled, he couldn't clearly remember where he got these marks he told us. The doctors said not to fear, it was probably better in the long-run. Better that a boy such as Kyouya couldn't remember everything. But I knew that years from now bits and pieces would resurface, all the horrors he went through as a child would show up, in the forms of dreams, unknown feelings, tangled emotions. I fear you fast-forwarded this process Haruhi. Somehow you caused him to want to get through this faster, to deal with it in a matter he never does."

All Haruhi could do was nod. He did handle this differently, reaching out to her, instead of shoving this all under the rug like he most often had done in the past. "So you see, in helping him cope the healthy way, I fear he locked himself in these memories, to finally come face to face with them. I won't be surprised if he wakes up slightly dazed, a different person even, in regards to attitude. I could only hope that whatever is going on in that maze of his mind, it won't hurt him too much." Her voice ended softly, Haruhi too wishing the same. All she wanted was Kyouya back, and she took note of how Fuyumi so effortlessly refused to give details of May 2nd. So it was something she would have to ask Kyouya herself. Fair enough. She just wanted him to wake up, to see exactly why Fuyumi hated this Itsuki so, what exactly she did or didn't do.

"Her name was Rerura." Haruhi's head snapped up at Fuyumi's words. "Re...rura?" "A funny name yes? She seemed to like it. So much easier to write, and she never had to bother with that complicated Kanji she says. Just a few simple characters and you have her name. It was amusing to see Kyou-chan try to say it. But of course, her name is never mention anymore."

Haruhi nodded, not entirely sure why her name was given to her. Was there meaning behind it? She still had to know exactly what this Rerura was like, where she came from. But for now, a name was enough. All she wanted was for Kyouya to wake up, tell her everything. It was the least he could do rich bastard, for making her worry so much like that.

With a gentle hand she took hold of his wrist, the steady beat pulsing under her. Kyouya, always the stable rock was so weak here, so lost, it was mind-blowing. He had so much to hide from the world, so much even he could probably not understand. A part of her wished to be with him through these troubles, but another wished, bleakly, that things would go back to the way they came. She couldn't help it, but almost hope he would go back to normal, all of this forgotten like he seemed to have years back. Just anything to have Kyouya return, to give that annoying smirk of his she always wanted to slap off his face. Lower lip trembling she brought her brow to his left side, next to his arm. He was lying on the right, so she saw no harm in trying to get to Kyouya, trying to snap him out of all this. In his shirt, warm from his own heat, she mumbled out her wish.

"Kyouya-sempai, wake up, I want to help you…I want to be there with you while you're fighting through these shadows of your past." Wondering when she had gotten so metaphorical she shrugged it off, face burrowed in the crook of his side that huddled position of his had formed. "Wake up Sempai, for me, please?"

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Time just rushed by, it seemed that now a few months had passed once again, it was May. Early May, and a day that the young boy would try to block so desperately.

His glasses, fairly large on his face always seemed to be slipping down the bridge of his nose. He found while wearing these things he couldn't run as he wished, always having to stop and use his finger to push them up another couple of inches. A habit that formed early and would be hard to break later in life for him. So up the glasses went, he always careful that they glared. No one could see his eyes, just like his mother said.

Kyouya bounded off to the sitting room, once again on his mother's demand. Things have remained more or less the same for the boy, she still punishing him often for his careless mistakes and slip of the tongue. He should know better, he should take more care of being a good son. But yet, something was different between the two now, for Kyouya in general. After the event he still couldn't remember quite well, with his eyes, Kyouya had locked off. He found it so much easier to just whole himself up in his room, away from everyone's pondering glances and advances. Who knew when he would make a mistake, accidently smile too much or say something that just sets his own mother off.

Kyouya was just locking himself away. He found it easier, much more so to show these adults he really was fine, he was mature and self-reliant, much more so for his age. Hide the scars, avoid their questions with a smile, and occupy yourself with much more important matters. It was a method Kyouya found to be the most successful, in pleasing his mother. For her word was everything, she made him who he was. They shared a bond, he would later come to realize. One that even he couldn't explain, one that simply rubbing his arms or eyes would bring forth a whirlwind of emotions, of hate and love. So much, and he couldn't make sense of it.

Already, at such a young age Kyouya was beginning to find that emotions, feelings really in general were the way for the weak. Better to not dwell on what his mother does. Smile, smile with a grin that was fake, and act cordially to all. And try not to get his mother mad. Slowly his innocence was being sapped away, and no one felt this as a great a tragedy as Itsuki.

She kept on following Ohtori-sama's order, not approaching the boy since that fateful afternoon months back. But still, festering inside her, something was not right. The servants weren't to bother help dressing and undressing him anymore, he was to bathe on his own. Everyone just took this in stride, the favored child just being taught by his mother that he was to grow up, and learn self-reliance. But to Itsuki, it was just a further reason why she was too be worried. She took note of Kyouya's actions, how he would jump if you patted his shoulder or ruffled his hair without warning. How he always covered his arms now, how his glasses always hid his eyes. Those eyes that once upon a time were bright and eager. The rare instances she would catch a glance of him, in family portraits hung up around the house she would stop and stare. Try to see where this boy, when and why, what exactly happened.

Where was her little Ohtori-chama?

She feared it, didn't want to say it, but this lady, Ohtori-sama, she was bad for the boy. She was doing something to Kyouya; something she feared was turning him into this empty shell of a boy. The others, they didn't take notice. Just accepted him as finally becoming the clone of his elders they always assumed he would be. But no, this was Kyouya. He was to be happy, the go-lucky child who would always brighten your face with a wide smile and happy eyes. Not this clenched grin and opaque glasses.

With a shuddering breath she reached the sitting room, the infamous room that Kyouya near always spent his time in. The door she opened, stepping in to see Ohtori-sama on her spot by the window seat, her brown eyes fluttering up in surprise at Itsuki, not Kyouya coming in.

She rose, her white summer dress rustling. "Itsuki, who gave you permission to come here?" Her voice was tense, but still with an air of politeness often given to the servants. She was an Ohtori after all. But Itsuki, she was done with these lies. She stepped forward, not bothering to close the door, arms crossed. "I find it in my right since your are harming Ohtori-chama, and I'm here to tell you what plan of action I will take." Kyouya's memories, they only knew of this since he was trailing behind Itsuki, not alerting him that he was there, but not running off either. Why was she coming there, to his mother? She would get hurt, she would have to leave.

Anxiously, Kyouya ran the rest of the way, stopping only to press his back against the hallway wall, listening in on the conversation. His glasses were slipping down but he didn't bother to turn them up. His ears were at attention, truthfully scared to see what his mother would do to Itsuki, and what she would do to him as a result. That thought alone was enough to have his blood stop cold, and it took all he could to not run off and seek sanctuary in some other part of the house. But he wanted to hear.

So footsteps echoed through the open door, coming closer to where he guessed Itsuki was standing, in the middle of the room. "Close the door Itsuki and let's discuss this as reasonable adults. Not Mistress to Servant, as equals." "No. No Ohtori-sama. I would find it a disgrace to be equal to someone like, like. Like you." Kyouya gasped put, quickly slapping his own hands over his mouth, eyes wide and non-believing. Did Itsuki just speak that way to his mother? If he did such a thing, surely that would mean two needles at the same time, and not one.

She gave a nervous laugh, the footsteps coming closer. "I'll forget you said that, and more importantly want to know why the sudden hostility." "What have you done to Ohtori-chama?" "Whatever could you mean?"

More voices, but they were lowered and muffled. Kyouya crept in closer, at the door edge now.

"Are, are you suggesting I'm harming my own child Itsuki?" Her voice was feigning hurt; even Itsuki and Kyouya like could realize that. Kyouya, over these past few months had become much better at listening to a tone in voice, at looking at someone's face. It seemed his mother had taught him without realizing how to read a person's face much more than his other siblings. He almost always knew when you would be lying, such as what his mother was doing now. But he didn't say anything, he couldn't. He could never do that, for she still was his mother.

Itsuki gave a short bark, one of disbelief. "I don't think, I know. I've seen the marks." He stiffened against the wall, hands traveling to his right arm, squeezing it in his grasp. Surely he had been careful. And he took care to make sure he was never near her again after his greatest punishment. What would his mother do now? He bit his lower lip, trembling. This conversation was not going to end well, for him or Itsuki.

The footsteps, they grew louder, before a shriek, a sudden shriek was heard, and the slap of skin Kyouya knew so well, the thud of a body hitting the floor. He held in his tears, trying to imagine it was him, lowly him and not Itsuki getting punished now. He deserved it, she didn't.

"Insolent girl, you dare talk to me that way. I have such a mind to kick you out of here." Kyouya could picture quite easily the stance his mother was taking, arms crossed coolly, eyes dark and fearsome. Itsuki was backing up, trying to stand up before another slap was heard, another thud. Kyouya shut his eyes, sliding down to the floor, hands over his ear now. It was him, he was getting slapped. Not Itsuki, she was good. He was bad.

"Don't even think about yelling for help. The minute someone else's attention is caught, I will make sure that you, and Kyouya regrets it." Kyouya couldn't hear this, too busy shutting out the moment, but Itsuki heard clearly, head lowering, eyes downcast. This was going all wrong. Now because of her stupidity in approaching the matter Kyouya would suffer. Oh why didn't she think of going to the master of the house, or Fuyumi-sama?

Another slap echoed in the room, bringing her face up to Ohtori-sama's. "Having servants too nosy are a dangerous thing, don't you agree?" Then, she straightened up, backing to the door, swinging it open fully. Kyouya jumped forward as the door flung open, falling out to a mass on the hall floor. Sheepishly he turned his head, glasses balancing precariously on the tip of his nose.

"Get in."

Scrambling he crawled in, yelping out only when she shut the door before he could get his ankle though. Itsuki called out as she saw him twist in pain, the mother just kicking the boy to the middle, then resumed to closing the door. "Shut up Kyouya, you are in trouble."

His huddled form went still, and he stared blankly at Itsuki, blotting out the intense throbbing his small ankle had. To his left was the tea table, equipped with the steaming pot and needle. Kyouya now, more than he ever had, was scared for himself, was fearing his life and Itsuki's in the hands of his mother.

All Itsuki was fearing now was the boy, his ankle twisted awkwardly backwards. Had the mother just sprained or even broken her own son's ankle, and not even showing remorse? Ohtori-sama, was she really that…psycho? Taking advantage of her distance Itsuki got up, cheeks red and burning. She made her way to Kyouya, careful to avoid the mother directly. Kneeling down she looked at Kyouya. He shook his head furiously, trying to inch his way away from the tea table and maid.

With this Rerura smiled, her lessons finally getting through to the boy. "Well would you look at that? It seems Kyouya doesn't want help. You were wrong." "NO!" Itsuki surprised herself and the young boy, her voice raised. You never raised your voice to Ohtori-sama. She found this funny, mouth curling into the malicious grin Kyouya knew so well.

"Really now? Surely you care about my son more than that. You do know whatever you do now, I will inflict on him tenfold when you leave." She glanced down at the boy, who was unresponsive and just lying on the floor. "You already are going to have to deal with more the usual I'm afraid." His hitched breath made her chuckle, as she walked around to Itsuki, next to the tea cart. Hand out she fingered the needle, before raising it to her line of vision in front of her.

"You see Itsuki, I have a way of making my YoYo-chan so well behaved." Itsuki glanced down fearfully at Kyouya, who just grabbed his arm, trying to sink into the carpet. Filled with this rage, so maternal in nature, she spun up and around, now standing, staring directly at Ohtori-sama. "You take one step towards this boy I will scream. " "Try. I think YoYo-chan here has yelled a lot. It never did you good did it?" Wordlessly he shook his head.

Itsuki took this moment to have her spontaneous nature get the best of her, and with a yell she flung herself at Ohtori-sama. With a gasp she stumbled back, the needle still in her grasp, as she fell onto the window seat. Itsuki was on top of her, struggling to get off and reach for the tea pot. "Well, you surely put up more of a fight than my boy." With a swift kick she brought her slippered feet to Itsuki's middle, who collapsed into the cart quite noisily. The tea pot, heavy in nature, clunked on the maid's head, it's top open and contents spilling all over the girl. She yelled out, so high and ear-splitting in nature Kyouya found it in him to call out with her, to call out against his mother.

"STOP! Mama, PLEASE!" Rerura's attention left the girl who was suffering from the same burns Kyouya often went though as of late, her red skin and shut, tearing eyes, not of any importance. But this boy, he dared yell out? Walking past her flailing limbs his mother swiftly reached down for Kyouya's tucked arm, harshly ramming his ankle against the carpet in result. He cried out, tears springing also from his eyes, his eyes which so recently had been near blinded himself.

Still, he didn't call out, didn't try to apologize. He was fighting back, he was trying to escape her grasp. For Itsuki, he wouldn't let what he did go in vain. With her here, he felt slightly safer, he felt as if maybe his mother would stop now, if he won. So he yelled back just as loud, his ankle feeling like it was splitting in two.

"LET GO! Let go Mama. STOP!" Her eyes narrowed, the needle still in her grasp brought out. Without even a warning or preparation she plunged it into Kyouya's wrist, at the very placement of his veins. Out and in she slammed it, the blood pouring out freely as it stained red his sleeve, which she didn't bother to roll up. Then she started digging into his flesh, the needle making its way in and out of the fabric, and into the deep muscles, the tender area of his arm. It took him but seconds to realize what she was planning to do, as gruesome as it was. She was sewing his sleeve to his arm, the cloth embedding in the scarred arm of the five year old. The blood, was so much. Behind his glasses he couldn't scream, just stared dumb-founded at what she was doing. It kept coming, and he already felt his head start to throb.

His vision, even behind his glasses, was beginning to grow blurry, head hazy. It seemed she hit a major vein of some kind, as the needle worked its way up to his elbow. But he then found himself yanked forward, as the needle forcefully left his skin, chipping away some deep tissue as a result. His glasses were flung to the side, he fell crumpled to the floor as his mother was pulled of him, by a burned and red Itsuki. She was gritting her teeth, arms raw as the two women stumbled to the window.

In between her screams filled with pain, Itsuki found it in her to yell out to Kyouya. "R-Run. Now. GO!" But no, Kyouya couldn't. His teeth clenched as well, a shaking hand grabbing the needle still dangling by the thread. A thread of both cloth and skin. With shut eyes he pulled it away, the stitches ripping open the already stressed skin. The blood, so much and so red, it only pulled it out further. His arm, it was as if the skin was peeled away on both sides, so only the pink and raw muscle tissue was staring back at him, the skin flaps swaying slightly.

It was too much for him, and very quickly Kyouya bowed his head, vomiting on the carpet next to him. It was just too much. In such a short time he hit the end of his rope, all because of Itsuki. Here she was trying to save him, and he acted out, allowed this to happen to him and her. He truly was someone not deserving of this life, as his mother yelled often.

His face he planted next to the ruined carpet, holding back the bile making its way up his throat for a second time. He didn't dare look at the scuffle behind him, knowing full well how it was to end.

Itsuki had somehow lost control, her weakened state and run off adrenaline slowly making its effect on her. Rerura took this exact moment to latch onto the maid's arms, nails digging in to the singed skin. Itsuki screamed out, head banging against the second story window. The mansion was immense, this only being one of the lower floors in the about six story mansion. Rerura grinned, finally finding a way to rid herself of this troublesome maid. But Kyouya's lack of screams she feared, tilting her head to the boy.

Her grip on Itsuki tightened, as he lied there, blood staining his shirt and crumpled body, and the carpet around him. He was barely breathing it seemed, it was almost as if she killed him. But has she?

Rerura, she knew this couldn't happen. If he died, it was something al altogether. She would have murdered her favorite child. His lack of response as Itsuki yelled on, it only furthered her belief, and lost in the frenzy that was her she picked up the girl to her feet, pushing her with all her might against the window. Glass shattered as Itsuki made her way out, her hands grabbing the dress of Ohtori-sama and ripping away pieces. Rerura too feel out, knowing very well she was not going to be the one to die here. Guards at the far edges of the grounds heard the shatter and were making their way up, so she knew she only had a few moments. As they hit the ground, this seeming like an eternity to her, she head the snap of Itsuki's neck as her head connected with the cemented ground, saw the blood beginning to leak out of her bashed head. The girl never even screamed out, the mother noted, before she too collapsed over her.

Kyouya, he took it upon himself to whip his aching head to the sound of crashing glass. Eyes frozen as the wavy image of the two flew out. He heard the yell of the guards, he heard the thuds. Were they dead? Was he going to die? If his arm had anything to say about this then yes. So down his head went, face mixed in the solution of blood and bile he had formed. Exhausted, he found himself going light, the pain there, but him not feeling it. It was as if he flew out of his own small body, looking at disgust at his own crumpled and broken appearance. What had just happened? He didn't know.

Truthfully, Kyouya didn't. For such a young age, his mind went to work hiding these memories. Itsuki and his mother were dead, he was going too. So this was where love had gotten him? Not worth it in his opinion. So his mind, still so young, locked this away, knocked him unconscious by the time the servants, frantic at the noises arrived. He didn't know anything else, but surely he was saved.

For he woke up in a hospital bed, arm bandaged, told it was a few days later and asked if he remembered anything. It he remembered what? That was what he said. He knew the scars, knew Itsuki and his mother were dead, at least that was what they asked him. But where did the scars come from, how did they die? He didn't know. Truthfully he didn't. Kyouya had succeeded in repressing the traumas of his youth, left to be locked away until 11 years later.

Kyouya-sempai. Now he was thinking of her? Where did Haruhi fit into all of this…Wake up. But he already had. He was in the hospital bed, the doctors huddled around his bedside. His father in the corner of the room, telling his sibling the death of their mother. He heard as they were told Itsuki did this to him, before jumping out the window, bringing their mother with her. A murder-suicide. That was what the papers said. But that wasn't right, was it? Please, just wake up, for me?

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Fuyumi jumped back, as soon as her brother stirred. He bowed his head away from her touch, his side trying to sink into itself as Haruhi's presence was known. Feeling slowly went throughout his body. Eyes opened bleakly all he could see was a blur. A green blur, which he was guessing was someone wearing green. Night had fallen, so his vision was worse than usual. Someone had removed his glasses.

"K-Kyou-chan?" That voice, it wasn't Haruhi. "Onii-san." "Yes!" She rushed forward, forgetting her shock minutes before and hugging him to her chest. "Thank goodness you got out of this sooner than I hoped." He winced, trying to twist out of this hug. "Where's Haruhi?" His voice was no more than a whisper, before a shaky hand found its way to his shoulder, Haruhi stepped back and also grinning. "I'm here S-Sempai. Are you, you?"

A question for the ages, was he really him? What had just happened, and why? He relived those memoires, memories he took so much care to lock away, and for what? He just relived everything, felt the pain again. He brought both his arms up, crossed across his chest as Fuyumi refused to release him. Was there a reason why he remembered? His mother, was dead. Why did he go through all that again?

Pausing, he waited for some inner voice to call out the answer, but it never came. His inner voice, his mind, that part was gone? Did this, however long he was sleeping, did it cure him of that useless sub-conscious?

"F-Fuyumi, please stop." She dropped her arms, face in a pout. "My, my my. Kyou-chan you are unconscious for about two days and you still have that mean voice." Two days, had it really been that long? Kyouya, still disoriented, felt odd without that inner Kyouya of his bickering, having anything to say about the matter. Perhaps he should be glad, it was what he wished really.

Haruhi, he felt her hand, and then felt that jolt. Her touch flipped his empty stomach over, and he was never so thankful for feeling weird in his life. He wasn't scared anymore, no more of that useless little-boy act that ran through him before at the park. She had returned to being Haruhi, the girl whose presence ultimately unnerves him and distorts all his emotions. Never was he so happy to see such a girl.

So he backed against the bed, reaching out with both hands to grasp her one, holding it out in front of him. Perhaps he was still stuck in this state of confusing shock, and later he would blame it all on the stress, but with a shaky grin, his mouth turned up a few centimeters for occasion, he squinted, trying to find her in the mass of dark shadow in the room. As it knowing what he wanted Haruhi grinned back, reaching with her free hand for his glasses, and helped him put them on.

The world, finally being so clear once again, he felt comfort in this fact, fully refreshed and able to get his mind back on track. No nagging, all fear had left him, his mind only his once again, what had they done to him? Was all this just temporary, or really had just going through all that, it helped him? If it was to be like that, perhaps it would have made sense to come to terms long ago.

So he looked up to Haruhi, taking care to not glare his eyes behind the lenses. Grey met brown once more, in an entirely different circumstance than it did so in his childhood.

"Haruhi, you stayed here all this time?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Haruhi took a few steps back, arm pulling from his grasp. Was he really that shocked someone would care for him?

"Because you're a friend Sempai, and that is exactly what a friend does. Stay with you during a time of need. You should only be thankful I didn't call Tamaki-sempai or the rest of the host club."

He flinched. That surely would not have ended well. "Very well then Haruhi, I thank you for doing so. And it has come to my attention, well during my lapse of consciousness you can see I relived through the ordeals you so pointedly wanted me to go through. And I can say it worked, I'm cured and no more mention of this has to be had again." Because he knew, a small part of him knew, that further discussion would rile up bad feelings again.

Even with all this, Kyouya knew Haruhi wouldn't let up. She still saw, and he had to realize that answers were expected to be given. A part of him couldn't help but fear that. Why would he have to talk about what he just saw? It hurt enough to go through all that, and remember slightly more, but to talk about it, that never helped. Talking things up, saying it would heal them when in reality it would only make you cry or feel worse about yourself. Where was the healing in that?

"You know I won't take that for a minute Sempai." "Yes, I do." Fuyumi gave herself leave, taking care of plans to send them back to Tokyo. In secret preferably, so their father wouldn't catch wind of this. If he knew, it would make things worse than they already were. For Kyouya's sake she couldn't.

Nodding he pulled his arms back, leaning against the pillows. What he really wanted to do right now was sleep. A deep, wondrous, dreamless sleep. So using this to further bug the brown-haired girl he sunk into the pillows, and rolled onto his side.

"Well, I suppose we will talk about everything after I get some sleep yes?" It was hopeless, this guy was the Shadow King once again. Hopefully not as closed off, but already old Kyouya was returning. But so quickly, and so soon? Haruhi feared that he was just reacting from the temporary pleasures of a settled mind. Yes things would turn out quite normally, for days, weeks, even months. But until he told her everything, and emptied it out, he would never be at peace. It was like Fuyumi said. Only a matter of time before he loses himself again.

"Kyouya-sempai I'll let you sleep, but answer me this, please." She got a grunt in return, and chose to proceed. Sitting back in her chair she stared straight ahead, somewhat already sure of his answer.

"Those marks, on your arm, you didn't do that to yourself right?"

He was fully prepared to rebut her after she started the question, but the end threw him off. Did she really think that. He was self-inflicting like that? If his past told him anything, it was to never do anything like…that to himself. Ever. But then his mind, ever-thinking, produced an answer. She knew he wouldn't answer if she asked straight out. So, looking out for him in that common, friendly way of hers, it was as if she already knew the answer. So looking down, his arm and wrist pale in the moon light, he shook his head, glance never leaving his arm. He was thankful for this girl really. One who knew him so well, what more could you ask for in someone?

"No, I didn't." "Oh. That's what I thought." It was as if a silent understanding went between the two, as Kyouya stayed awake a bit longer, not realizing Haruhi already thought him asleep. As she got up, her footsteps echoing out to find Fuyumi most likely, he frowned to the darkness. She left so quickly, was she disappointed in his answer? She asked a question, gave her a truthful reply. Yet a part of him wondered if that could have been attempted differently.

He made a note to ask his sister later if girls really meant the opposite of what they say. It would solve a lot of his problems. And many more it would as well, in the future.

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Finally! Thank goodness I'm done. Took me long enough I know. And to let you all know, I hated writing this. I know I could have handled him waking up better, but I was as impatient as always to just have him up and to a state of normalcy. Don't think I'm brushing all these memories and such aside. The story may take a lighter turn now, since it is an Ouran fanfic after all, but down the road, these troubles and demons of his past will come back. In a way I'm sure none of you will expect. Muahaha. Awesome isn't it? Oh, and to clear up any confusion, it's now Sunday night in the fanfic. Kyouya was out for a while wasn't he? So if I have no objections, and please tell me so in your reviews, would you mind if I took a change in pace. Make this story seemingly more focused on the Host Club these next few chaps? So I can build up for yet another installment of Kyouya misery? XD Oh yes, before I forget. PLEASE VOTE IN THE POLL UP ON MY PROFILE!! It's vital for the story, I'm telling you all. And if none of the choices fit you think, and please take the time to listen to them all, please pm or in your review give me your own suggestion, and I will take it into consideration. Mmk? Cool ^^

~ja ne