As usual to find Tamaki one only had to follow the sound of the piano. Rather than going into the sitting room and watching him play, however, Kyoya abandoned all pretext of propriety and dropped to the ground outside the door, letting the delicate, exquisite melody wash over him as he considered what to do next. It required a lot of introspection he wasn't comfortable with at the moment, but he was not the type to run from a challenge.
He'd been honest when he said his father would disown him if any hint of his attraction to another male were discovered. The strain of the Host Club was close to enough reason as it was – he'd already been accused rather unfairly of being a prostitute. Kyoya knew he'd never succeed his father as heir to the Ootori empire, knew that he'd have to watch that honor fall to one of his brothers. He'd come to accept that fact. And though it hurt, though it angered him to know the family's legacy would descend into obscurity in the hands of his older siblings who had neither intelligence or scope enough to project the futures of the companies correctly, he took a bit of pride in the fact that, with the business base he'd built thus far, he'd already accumulated controlling interest in every one of the Ootori group's companies and subsidiaries. His stock portfolio, kept a closely guarded secret from everyone, was extremely impressive and very solid. Even if he were to be exiled from the family, cut off from any funds or benefits, he'd never have to worry about money. For him it wasn't completely about financial stability as much as it was about getting one over on his family, protecting the Ootori name, and securing the connections and the companies and the thousands of people who earned their livelihood through employment therein. So if he could secure the stability of all of that without being his father's heir, if he could find a way to fulfill his self-imposed responsibilities without sacrificing the sense of individuality as a person that he had just begun to discover...wouldn't that be the most acceptable solution?
His thoughts flickered back and forth between who he'd been raised to believe that he should be and the slowly unfolding realization of who he was becoming. He was accepting of the fact that he would never, could never, be as controlling as his father. His own heirs would never have reason to doubt their father's love and support, he would make sure of that. It was a large step to admit, even to himself, that he wished at times for his father to be more like a father and less like a dictator. Yet another smidge of Tamaki's influence, I suppose, he thought wryly. Before he'd befriended the gregarious blond he never would have considered that maybe, just maybe, there could be genuine warmth and affection between parents and children, not in the social stratosphere they occupied. For the wealthy elite children were insurance policies, bargaining chips. It wasn't so bad, logically. At least one knew that, provided one's parents were shrewd and intelligent, one's future was completely secure. Arranged marriages were standard, and all of his friends were being groomed for placement in their family's empires in one way or another – even Tamaki. In fact, the only person he knew who was completely free of strictures and heir-based responsibilities was Haruhi.
Haruhi. There was another wrench in the formerly smooth machinery of his psyche. He wasn't supposed to fall for her any more than he was supposed to fall for his best friend, yet his subconscious did not appear to have received that memo. Common born, common bred, his social inferior in every way – yet she was one of the most amazing people he'd ever met. She was so unlike the other females of his acquaintance. Despite the knowledge that she was younger than he was sometimes it was hard not to see her as being older. She had a solid sense of responsibility, a serious drive to succeed. He'd been telling the truth that day when he'd called her audacious. She intrigued him, this girl in boy's clothing, devoid of the typical but admittedly annoying feminine foibles that most young women her age cultivated like flowers. He admired her dedication to her goals. He – Kyoya sighed. He admired her. Her common sense, her self-reliance, her adaptable nature...the intelligence in those eyes of chocolate, the way she always meant what she said, her tolerance and her quick mind...the fact that her smiles were almost always genuine...he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, admitting defeat. He was in love with a common girl...and not only that he was in love with his the son of his father's business associate as well. Kyoya felt a surge of self-contentment that he'd had the foresight to begin laying foundations for his own empire...because after his father finished knocking him on his ass he'd likely be disowned. He allowed himself to wonder if it was really worth it.
In the room behind him, the piano's melody floated on the air like a soothing breeze full of love and light. In its gentle strains Kyoya found his answer.
She'd picked the lunch venue as well and though she refused to tell them where they were going, her companions followed gamely as she led them down a side street and off the normal walkways until they came to a small, nondescript door.
"Well, here it is!" she chirped cheerfully, thoroughly amused by the confusion on the four boys' faces.
"It's...a door," Hikaru said, skepticism dripping from his words.
"Yep," she smiled back, signalling to Mori to put her down. He did so gently, his face blank as usual – but she knew him better now, could see the puzzlement in those dark, serious eyes. Ignoring the silent questions and the not-so-silent mumbling she limped surely to the door and tapped out a quick knock.
"Coming!" A cheerful sounding voice with an unusual accent could be heard as well as approaching footfalls. A moment later the door was flung open to reveal an older woman. Her unbound hair brushed against her waist and was more grey than blond, curls tumbling carelessly over her shoulders and down her back. A white shirt with a black and grey star bagged over a pair of ragged jean cutoffs. Her feet were bare and a leather thong adorned one ankle.
"Haruhi!" she exclaimed in English, sweeping forward to give the girl a hug that was returned just as fiercely before letting go abruptly and taking a step back. "By god's own saints, it's been months! Let me get a look at you! Oh, you're just as pretty as your Momma ever was!"
"Carrie!" Haruhi answered happily, eschewing Japanese for English as well. "You look great! How have you been?"
"Oh, come off it, girlie, stop flattering an old woman," she laughed before pulling the girl into another quick hug. She turned then to get a good view of the four young men standing on her doorstep with various expressions of confusion.
"And just who are these hotties? You been holdin' out on me, Haru?" she said with a laugh. Haruhi chuckled, shaking her head and speaking in Japanese.
"Carrie, these are my friends. The tall one here is Morinozuka Takashi, the short one is Haninozuka Mitsukuni, and these red-headed demon spawn are Hitachiin Hikaru and Kaoru." Still obviously befuddled, nonetheless they bowed properly when introduced. Haruhi soon found herself glad that they didn't all have as good a grasp of English as she did.
"Well you sure got yourself a passel of gorgeous eye-candy here. Girl after my own heart," she said with a wink that made Haruhi blush.
"Carrie!" she exclaimed with a grin. The older woman looked completely non-repentant.
"What? I'm old, not dead. Hell, I think I might claw my way back to life if I could get a view like that." Haruhi giggled, causing her companions to exchange amused looks.
"You should meet the other two sometime then. Especially Tamaki," she said with a chuckle, envisioning the Host King's princely ways pitted against the earthiness of the woman in front of her. Carrie's green eyes widened.
"There are more of them? Lord have mercy." She blinked, then turned her attention to the other guests. In perfectly fluent yet oddly accented Japanese she spoke.
"Please, if you're Haruhi's friends then you are welcome here. Come on in. Lunch is about ready." With that she swung an arm around the girl's shoulder and helped her into the house. Exchanging curious looks, the guys followed.
The interior of the home was as eclectic as its resident. Japanese artwork shared space with sports pennants and carnival masks. Colorful scarves were draped casually over old, yet comfortable looking furniture. The floors were wood but Persian-looking rugs and woven mats were scattered in high traffic areas. The overall effect seemed to be one of comfort, eccentricity, and simplicity in equal amounts and despite their current bafflement the boys relaxed easily, unable to stay tense or formal in an atmosphere that just oozed welcome.
Haruhi kept up an animated conversation as they moved into the dining room, motioning her friends to take seats around a large circular table. They looked at one another, unsure of what proper protocol would be in a situation such as this, but their hostess quickly sorted them out.
"Come on, everyone," her voice was cheerful. "We don't stand on ceremony here. Have a seat and relax – food's comin'." With that she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving a smiling Haruhi to settle her boys in.
"Well, come on, sit down," she said with a smile as she dropped into a chair. Following her lead Honey snatched the chair beside her with a cute, triumphant grin, leaving Hikaru and Kaoru bickering over the other chair as Mori sat down beside his cousin.
"Haru-chan, who is this lady?" the little blond asked.
"Her name is Carrie Satou – she's an old friend of my mother's. I've known her all my life. She's American, but her husband was from Sendai. They moved here years ago and when Taiyo passed away, she just...stayed."
"And I've never regretted it," the woman called out from the other room, bustling in a moment later with arms full of plates and pans. Mori rose quickly to help and in short order the table was covered with a variety of edibles that were obviously not traditional fare. As the tall host finished arranging things on the table their hostess flew back into the kitchen, returning with two pitchers and an armful of glasses. When he reached out to assist her again she flashed him a grin.
"I've got this, handsome, but thanks all the same!" she said, leaning up to plant a quick kiss on Mori's cheek as she unloaded the drinks with the deftness of a saloon waitress. Thus finished she sat down in her own chair between Hikaru and Mori's seat – the latter still being empty as the quiet young man was standing, his normally expressionless face tinged with shock.
"Sorry girlie – I think I broke your friend." Haruhi and the others laughed as Mori came to his senses and sat down.
"Now, Haruhi, do your friends understand English, or should we stick with Japanese?" she said, motioning with one hand. Haruhi, knowing none of her friends were fluent enough to keep up with Carrie's accent and the rapid-fire slang that even she sometimes had trouble with, decided quickly.
"Japanese would be best, I think, this time."
"Not a problem," the older woman said, switching to the familiar tongue with ease. "Well, everyone, dig in – there's plenty to go around!" Haruhi watched as her friends shot hesitant looks at one another, so she decided to have pity on them and began to dip out her own food as she talked.
"This shredded pork is barbequed and goes great in these rolls. And you really have to try her grilled corn on the cob – there is nothing else like it!" Not surprisingly Honey was the first to load his own plate and as the rest began to dish out their lunches, Haruhi watched him from the corner of her eye. He'd copied her, taking one of the large soft rolls from the plate in the center and splitting it open with his fingers to load it with the sweet, tangy pork. By the time he'd built his sandwich the others were watching openly, not even bothering with subtlety. Honey looked at his sandwich and took a huge bite. His eyes widened in pleasure as he chewed and swallowed.
"This is really really good!" he exclaimed happily and turned his full attention to his plate. Haruhi chuckled, sharing a smile with the American woman at the blond's obvious enjoyment and enthusiasm. As though that was the signal everyone had been waiting for, the group fell to with a will and the food began to disappear rapidly. Carrie waved away all the compliments with a grin and a wink - "Hush, it's nothing. I don't often get to feed a group as good-looking as you boys." - and they sat around the large table eating and enjoying the pleasant company.