Chapter 7

For a fourteen bedroom home with eight and a half bathrooms, it was truly a grand estate for just two people that still lived in it. Perhaps ten if you counted the help required to upkeep the home. A guest cottage sat on the property as well, a home fit for a family on its own. Kiyoko parked in her own designated spot, furthest from the home and closest to the exit of the estate. She was early of course, never quite the one to leave others waiting out of respect. Thankfully, dinner was slated to begin later in the evening giving her enough time to change into what others would consider an appropriate outfit to meet the in-laws. Or supposedly, that was what she was told.

Kiyoko nodded to the butler who greeted her at the entrance, informing her that her grandmother was up in the study. The hollow clop of the thigh-high boots followed her up the stairs to the study that the elder had been utilizing as her own office – the furthest away from the library where her father had taken up space.

"Did you look into it?" Kiyoko cut to the chase, knowing that the woman had watched her arrive through the window that she was still gazing out of. It had only been a few hours and Kiyoko never asked what her grandmother's sources were or how she got the information that she did.
"Not even a greeting?" the grandmother snarled.

"Asami is a ticking time bomb," the granddaughter muttered. In terms of familial matters, the reason why her aunt was back seemed the most pressing.
"She hasn't done anything yet," the elder shot back. "What can we use against her if she hasn't made her first move?"

"She made her move as soon as she finds Haru," Kiyoko responded coldly. "She's onto something. Figure it out. I don't care how you do it. The Ootoris will back down if they knew the deranged woman was back to stir things up for all of us."
"Then we need to get you married faster," the grandmother proposed. "They won't be able to escape."

Before the granddaughter could retaliate, the pack of Ootoris had shuffled out of their chauffeured vehicles in time for both the Hibayashis to watch from above. The patriarch, the mother, and of course – the prodigal son. All three gathered silently in front of the door. They entered right as the two women came down the dual staircase to greet them.

Kiyoko bowed deeply to the clan at the foot of the stairs. "Welcome," her deep voice nearly startled the Ootoris who hadn't realized that she was the woman that they were all interested to meet. She carried an aura of eloquence and maturity, something they hadn't expected from a girl – somehow they expected someone more youthful and less… brooding.

"We should give some time for the children to get to know one another," the elder Hibayashi suggested. It left the parents to speak. Kiyoko's eyes flickered instead of being rolled. There was nothing to do on the estate – what would they possibly do to get to know one another? The Ootori was certainly more interested in speaking in profits and mergers over the time of day. After all, he was here to sit at the adult table.

"Only if Ootori-san is up for it," Kiyoko politely evaded the suggestion, her eyes meeting with the raven-haired man who stood tall beside his own father. The bachelor flashed a smile, though to Kiyoko it felt more like a grimace at her. Her eyes narrowed at him for a slight second, as if telling him to stay with the parents. Talk business. Proposals. Money. Whatever it may be. She didn't mind. Truly, did not care for any of it.

"Of course," Kyouya agreed, going against her wishes. "Why don't you give me a tour?"

Kiyoko responded with a slight nod. "Well then," she turned to the elders and bowed deeply. "We will be back in time for our scheduled dinner in the dining room." They had about half an hour to spare at most. Not enough to really show the man the intricacies of the entire mansion but there was no need for that.

The woman trailed ahead. The milky skin peaked from behind the mesh diamond cut on the back of her black long-sleeved dress. It stuck to her form, encasing her waist with a soft fabric that was most definitely imported. Her thigh-high boots clopped against the antique hardwood floors. It would have taken a blind man not to notice the details of her dress.

"This is… the grand room," Kiyoko pointed out. "I'm sure our parents will be spending most of their time here so we'll sweep ahead towards the—"
"Let's see your bedroom," the Ootori interrupted, crossing his arms.

Kiyoko raised an eyebrow, wondering if he understood what he had insinuated. It didn't seem like him to be so crude. "Alright, if you insist," she shot back without hesitation. She glanced at him over her shoulder. He didn't seem particularly enthused. She took a shortcut, a hidden entrance towards another staircase from the kitchen up towards the second floor. It was to be expected in large homes like these – hidden entrances and doorways that only those who lived there knew about.

He followed closely. She felt the heat of his presence following her up the staircase. It was like he hovered around her body – it was oddly protective. Kiyoko paused to stand in front of a vase at the top of the staircase.

"This is from the 18th century," she informed. "I mean, not that you'd care," she realized. "But it's probably one of the only fragile things in this home that hasn't been hurled against the wall or smashed against the floor," Kiyoko muttered. It was a fun bit to her. The Ootori didn't seem entirely impressed or amused by the fact like the woman was.

Kyouya looked around. The home was intricate in the plasters on the ceiling and the infrastructure itself. But the décor was rather simple. "Have most of your antiques broken?" he asked.

Kiyoko's smile grew into something more sinister. A playful warning. A reminder to him. "This is the kind of family you'd be marrying into."
"Well," Kyouya perched up his glasses. "We aren't forced to get married, Hibayashi-san."
The woman nodded in agreement. "Times have changed," she responded. "Though I suppose at this point, it's more of a… strong suggestion." A suggestion that she hoped he wouldn't take.

Kiyoko tipped the vase on its edge, playing with the weight of it like she had done many times before over the years. She wondered if this vase was hers. Hers to break. Hers to make a statement. Hers to hurl over the staircase in a fit of rage because nothing else had been left. But alas, she never had the guts to do so. To sink into the same kind of behaviour as the rest of her family.

"Careful," the Ootori warned monotonously. He was unimpressed. He had already dealt with one broken vase in his lifetime.
"Mm," the woman smirked and let the vase topple into its original position. She noted his pursed lips. Ah, so it was no longer a trick that worked. Was he really not afraid? "Not to worry, Ootori-san. You haven't given me a reason to throw it at you yet."

It was his turn to chuckle. She raised an eyebrow at him. Maybe he really did see through her lie. He was growing more courageous at every meeting it seemed.

Kiyoko continued ahead, opening the wooden double doors to her childhood bedroom. Nothing had changed. The same light pink coloured sheets were pristine over the king-sized bed. The wooden desk by the windows had been dusted on the daily by the housekeepers. She spent many hours toiling over that desk during her years of schooling. Her bookshelf had been kept as is – ordered alphabetically and separated by language. Japanese, English, French. There were no toys. No trinkets. Only books that lined two whole walls.

"Was this what you expected, Ootori-san?" she asked. He peered into the room and walked across the marbled floors. He poked his head into the bathroom. Granite tiles with matching countertops that were left clear of any toiletries. He then opened the closet to find it empty with only a few hangers left behind.

"You don't live here," he commented.
"No," Kiyoko leaned against the post of her childhood bed. The howling wind against the window-pane nestled in between their lulls of silence. God, she hated that window. She hated this house. She hated being here.

"Why not?" the Ootori asked, his voice piquing with curiosity. He watched as the woman thought about it, looking around the room silently. He couldn't read her expression. She was good. Incredibly good at controlling what she was willing to show. It was borderline infuriating. All he could see was her sharply lined eyes, scanning the area, reminiscing.

Kiyoko paced around the room. Memories played of Haru who would barge in when they were children. They chased each other around the entire estate. Giggling as they lost themselves playing hide and seek in the gardens. She would sit on the floor with her back against the post of her bed reading on some afternoons. Haru would sit at her desk – creating some sort of piece of art. Sometimes they would play chess. Watch cartoons for a whole weekend. Eat the pastries that their nanny would bring in the middle of the day.

"It reminds me of death," Kiyoko settled on the most morbid reason of them all. It wasn't entirely a lie. A half-truth. And it was fucked up, right? Hopefully the reasoning was enough to shock the man into distraction.
"What?" Kyouya blinked – clearly unexpecting such an answer.

"Mother died in the room across from this one," she lifted her chin to point towards the open doors. "I'm sure you know the story well," the woman shrugged, liking how the Ootori was caught off guard. It was enough to get his mind off of whatever he wanted to ask.

"So, you still live on the Ootori estate, hm?" Kiyoko deduced. She changed the topic to deflect the attention off from her and glazed over the fact that her supposed mother had committed suicide across from her childhood room. "It must be nice."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Kyouya narrowed his eyes. She made him sound like a spoiled brat.
"It's convenient, no?" the woman offered in explanation, walking around the room in nostalgia. Kiyoko thought about what her life would have been like living under this roof.

Suffocating, she thought to herself. Kiyoko wondered if the man had learned enough about her in this room. Probably not much, especially since she did not live here anymore.

"Perhaps," Kyouya nodded. He let the silence sit between them, watching her closely as she eyed the window. It was getting darker, her room unlit and oddly chilly. She did not shiver at the draft. She turned to him with her arms crossed, her shoulders squared. She was always the one to shorten the distance between them, easing her way into his personal space to see how he would react. He did his best not to. He was learning.

"Your parents are here for a treat," Kiyoko smirked.
"Oh?" the Ootori was unfazed. He tried his best to mirror her stance, challenging her to pitch something that would even let him bat an eye.

"Dinners don't go well in this household," the woman shrugged. "Perhaps it will finally scare you off."
"You don't scare me," Kyouya scoffed.
"I don't have to," she chuckled. "Something will come up."

Whether it was through statistical evidence that she had calculated off the top of her head from the various dinners she had sat through during her childhood or a knack of having a premonition at the back of her mind at all times – Kiyoko was ready to settle into this dinner with amusement. Kyouya on the other hand, took it seriously. He was, after all – meeting the in-laws to lay the ground for a merger for the company. They had only met a handful of times – truly, the rich and elite moved rather quickly. Especially in matters of growing their wealth.

Kiyoko was quick to turn on her heel to lead him out of her childhood bedroom. It was not her favourite place anyway. Her favourite place was the gardens. Like Ouran, the home had its own mini hedge of a maze that was beautifully trimmed to the tee. Enough to get lost in for about an hour or to hide in when needed. But tonight, Kiyoko was not here to hide.

She was here to prove her point to the youngest Ootori. He followed her down the halls of the various rooms. She took him down the scenic route, letting him take in the large estate in silence. Kiyoko figured it must have rivaled the Ootori manor in size and extravagance.

"You're a hypocrite," he accused with a low breath, getting impatient with how she glazed over the tour with a bored tone in pointing out some other rooms. Kiyoko laughed at the comment. Of course the woman would laugh at such an accusation. She looked at this as if it were a game. A form of amusement to her.

"Oh?" She stopped in her tracks and waited for him to explain.
"You said you were groomed for this," Kyouya muttered. "For marriage."

"Of course," Kiyoko batted her eyes. Her hair had been beautifully swept up in a low bun, pinned down with a platinum ornament. She always smelled like gardenia. Her lips were painted a dark maroon. Her nails were so beautifully manicured with the same maroon colour, the almond tips threatened to dig into his skin like claws. Kiyoko stood in front of him – her back straight and her head cocked to the side.

"Do I not look the part, Ootori-san?" she asked. She was groomed to be a trophy wife as they all were.
"That's not what I meant," the Ootori shot back. "The way you weasel out of these questions, pretending to intimidate—"

"I'm not pretending," Kiyoko cut him off. "I'm succeeding," she whispered lowly, catching the flicker in his eye. She smiled even wider. He's annoyed.

"I'm not intimidated by you," Kyouya declared. "You hide behind that facade of yours like you're untouchable." He grew frustrated by the minute. "You aren't. You can't hide forever."

She gave a twisted smile at him in triumph. "Don't be silly, Kyouya. Look in the mirror, it's you who hides." It was enough to rile him further. His hands fisted beside his legs. His deep exhale was enough to let Kiyoko step back from him so he could have his space to calm down. She read him like an open book – it made him feel vulnerable. Afraid. Attacked.

"If it makes you feel any better," Kiyoko's voice turned softer, almost sorry. She went farther than she thought she could. "Everyone hides. It's a survival tactic."
"I'm not hiding," he told her. His voice more aggressive than before. As if his voice hadn't given him away already.

The woman smiled. "The more you hide your fears, the more it seeps into your core until you cannot control it. You hide your emotions – or you think you do," Kiyoko's eyes stared back at him. His brows had softened. Perhaps it was time to get them to furrow once again. "I can see you in all of your entirety." She knew just the phrase to do so.

"No," he breathed. That was impossible. She didn't know a single thing about him. "You can't."

"You're not afraid of marriage," Kiyoko pointed out. "You're afraid of failure," she continued. "Failure that all of this will be for nothing. Marriage to me, the emotional baggage that this family carries. The way you jump through hoops to try to understand me, my family, the business," she listed. "I'm telling you, it's not worth it." She told him time and time again.

"You don't understand," Kyouya narrowed his eyes. "Why would you even warn me? Why would you care? Wouldn't you enjoy the show?" Wasn't that what the world enjoyed? The entertainment of watching a train wreck of a family falling into disaster.

Kiyoko stared at him. He hated how she did that – the way she stared at him in a way he could not read. To him, she was like a foreign language. No part of her was readable. He felt so seen, so vulnerable, so scarily understood.

"I've seen – no, lived through the episodes, Ootori-san," she reminded. "What good would it be to add another character?" Kiyoko chuckled to herself. The woman continued on with their walk towards the dining room. The grandfather clock that chimed in the grand room was enough indication that it was time for dinner.

Kiyoko raised an eyebrow. Was her father joining? Hopefully not. She gave a look towards her grandmother who only glared at her to sit down. Kiyoko sat across from Kyouya who fumed quietly in his seat. His parents sat on the same side as him. The woman chuckled inwardly to herself. What a child, she thought before leaning into the wooden chair that kept her posture. The rest of the table seated with the Hibayashi matriarch sitting at the head of the table.

As if on cue, the hidden entrance opened to reveal another man, a little younger than the as the eldest Ootori at the table. His hair was slicked back, his dress code casual.

"Oh?" the Hibayashi CEO stumbled into the hall in a half-drunken stupor. "Oh, we have guests," he thought out loud. They were the Ootoris. "Apologies," he bowed. "I was… occupied," he slurred while taking a seat beside Kiyoko. The housekeepers quickly set a plate in front of him having unexpected his presence.

Kiyoko smirked at the youngest Ootori across from her. Ah, the show begins. Kiyoko wondered why her grandmother hadn't made the effort to stop him from coming. At the very least, it wasn't her fault. Kiyoko was not one to blame for her father's untimely entrance.

"We weren't expecting you," the grandmother seethed. "You said you were spending time… elsewhere." Elsewhere being code for probably another mistress' home, Kiyoko figured. The daughter sat back in her chair, relaxing as she let the scene unfold. She waited for the Ootoris' judgemental glares at her own family. Yes, this is what she had always expected. How could anyone expect something like this to go perfectly? There was no way the Ootoris would approve. She let the family across from her draw their own conclusions – the kind that had already been drawn far before the invitation for dinner.

And to make matters worse, the hidden entrance had opened again to a whining woman that was certainly not much older than Kiyoko herself. She dressed in an outfit that was far from appropriate. It made Kiyoko look like she was the mother of the family – her style was elegant and conservative in comparison.

"Takeo! Ugh, I thought we had people at the guest cottage to get more wine! Where are the goddamn houseke—" the stranger stopped in her tracks when she noticed the entire table seated and staring at her. "Er," she stuttered. "Hello," the woman bowed profusely out of embarrassment.

"A true family dinner, it seems," the Ootori matriarch raised an eyebrow, her comment was one of pure disapproval at the current Hibayashi clan, even if it was disguised as a harmless observation.

"Might as well join 'em," the father shrugged and patted the seat beside him. The non-Hibayashi plastered a smile on her face and slid into the seat beside the man. The table was now evened out with 7 people crowded around the dining room. Kiyoko pursed her lips to not make a comment. Holding her tongue was a skill that she did not get commended for enough. Instead, she raised an eyebrow to the youngest Ootori, a small smile danced upon her lips as she sipped some water that had been poured for her.

"So, you gettin' married or what?" Kiyoko's father turned to his daughter. Kiyoko raised an eyebrow and smiled in amusement. Oh, this was going well indeed. The granddaughter didn't even want to look at the head of the table. The simmering anger from her grandmother had seeped across the table to the Ootoris. She could feel it.

"Only with everyone's blessing," Kiyoko quipped. It was a phrase that was civil enough to placate the tension of the Ootori family's judgement and vague enough to ease the daggers of her grandmother's stare. She glanced at the girl who sandwiched her father from the other side. She half-expected the other woman her age to say something.

"Kyouya Ootori, isn't it?" the stranger gawked. The man was handsome as they all said he would be. "I'm Misaki," she introduced herself unabashedly. "It's a pleasure to be meeting with you all."

Kiyoko held back a grin. She had to admit she was absolutely enjoying herself at the disaster of a dinner this was heading towards. Between her grandmother fuming on her right to the Ootoris being shocked by the audacity by the unexpected guests to her father and Misaki being oblivious to it all. It truly was a fine attempt from her ambitious grandmother to try to sell her off to the Ootoris.

Dinner was served over talks of business – numbers and growth. Intended projects over the next few years. Kiyoko gave her father more credit, impressed that the man actually knew what was going on throughout the company, even if it were just for show. Kiyoko quietly picked away at her plate, doing what she did best: sit still and look pretty. After all, it was what was expected of her. She knew her place, even as Misaki boasted about her contributions to the company as a manager of some kind of financial division.

Kiyoko's ears were tuned to the numbers that were being thrown around. She was not stupid – she could do the math. The trajectories of both their companies were positive but certainly more synergistic if they were to join hands. No matter how you looked at it, the Hibayashis were a solid choice business-wise – even if their family was as unideal as they had presented themselves. Quite frankly, this dinner was them at their best behaviour - they really could have done much worse.

"Kiyoko," a voice called to the young woman for the first time throughout their 5-course dinner. They were nearly finished. The woman looked up from her plate, her head following the voice of the Ootori matriarch. The woman's voice was sharp and demanding. She expected nothing less from the Ootoris, after all.

"Yes, Ootori-san?" she answered politely with a nod of respect. Kiyoko's voice was calm. Her quiet voice was deep enough to command the table to look at her. She carried herself with enough eloquence to not have to bat an eye.
"You seem awfully quiet," the woman observed her throughout the night. "Do you not contribute to the company's matters?"

"I do not," Kiyoko responded monotonously, clearly uninterested in the expansion of hospitals and psychiatric care. She wondered if that was a disappointment to them. "I have my own business to attend to," she explained vaguely. She hoped that they would drop the topic. This was more attention than what she was expecting to get.

"An art gallery, was it?" the current CEO of the Ootori group answered for her. The whole family had done their research, of course. Well, it was to be expected after all.

Kiyoko put down her cutlery and sat up straighter. Here it comes, she thought. The judgement. She waited for their faces to contort to an expression of distaste when she nodded.

"How did you get into that?" they asked while withholding their judgement.
"I had some… contacts," Kiyoko vaguely put it. "From my university days of studying art history. It made sense to bridge the gap between the artists and the buyers given my network." Half-truths were easy to respond with, after all. She did not mention the fact that her actual degree was Mathematics and Creative Writing. Art history was just a minor.

"You have a network?" the Ootoris were curious. What did a girl like her have a network of?

"Yes," Kiyoko answered without revealing who her clients were. Was there a need? What interest would the Ootoris have in musicians or restauranteurs? In pro athletes and actors? Kiyoko knew of them in the same way that they knew of her – it was all purely transactional through word of mouth. She did not mingle with them to call them acquaintances.

"Are they not from your gambling days?" the Ootori matriarch pressed. Kiyoko blinked. Ah yes, there it was. They dug and dug and dug to what they thought would be the only suspicious part of her track record.

"No," the former poker player shook her head. "Not all of them," she added with a smirk. Kiyoko took a sip of water from the cool glass and let the questions continue. Her relaxed composure and glance at the entire Ootori clan was enough to scream go ahead. What else did you want to know? She did not back down – an interrogation did not scare her. She would only tell them what they already knew.

Misaki's jaw dropped. "Oh my god, what? You're a gambler?" the woman was flabbergasted. It was not exactly a fact that anyone would declare upon meeting anyone and it surely wasn't something you would first expect upon meeting someone like Kiyoko.

"I have since retired," Kiyoko responded calmly, brushing off the question from the unwanted guest. She hadn't acknowledged her presence throughout the entire dinner but blatantly ignoring her would have been a rather petty move in front of her potential in-laws. She wanted to chuckle at that term. In-laws were a rather generous term to call the couple in front of her.

"Are you like, a gambling addict?" Misaki spewed whatever came out of her mouth at first thought.
Kiyoko gave her a lopsided grin. "Then I wouldn't have quit, don't you think?" What an idiot.
"Oh," Misaki sat back in her seat, letting the thought mull through her mind for a second. "I suppose that's true."

"She's an odd one, isn't she?" Kiyoko's father chuckled. "At least she's a looker."

It was Kiyoko's turn to send a glare at her father. She imagined that the same came from her grandmother on the other side. How fucking disgusting. Kiyoko's claws went to grasp the glass of water in front of her to keep her from saying anything out loud. The glare went unseen by her father and there was no point in trying to start something in front of guests.

"Why did you quit?" the Ootori matriarch wondered. It was spoken more like a test. As if asking if she were still a gambler – a rather distasteful profession for a woman of her standing.

Kiyoko contorted her lips into a thin line, careful about her answer. "I made enough money." It was an obvious fact, was it not? It was unrefutable. A logical conclusion and yet so incredibly vague. They were back to square one with the woman. She played her cards well – she always had. The topic was dropped at the interruption of the housekeepers.

Dessert was presented by the servers with a helpful top-up of wine. Kiyoko politely refused – she had to drive back. She did not live here after all. The Ootoris all took a bite of their dessert before calling it a night – it seemed like the lack of sweet tooth ran in the family. Fair enough, Kiyoko also found the chocolate to be rather dense.

Her father and Misaki were quick to retire for the night, scrambling away as soon as they could when the Ootoris segued into their leave from the estate.

"I'll walk you all out," Kiyoko offered politely when the Ootoris stood to leave. She had to walk over to her car anyway, not intending to stay any longer than needed. The grandmother nodded in approval, following closely behind and bid her curt farewells to the family as only Kiyoko stepped out of the mansion.

The youngest Ootori stayed behind as well, letting his parents take the chauffeured vehicle first and turned towards the woman. Her long coat was unbuttoned as she buried her hands in her pockets.

"That went well, no?" Kyouya raised an eyebrow at her.
"I would hardly agree," Kiyoko answered factually. "Your chauffeur is here," she pointed out to the next car that pulled up. "Have a good night, Ootori-san." Kiyoko had done her part. She was tired and ready to drive home with the last ounce of energy she had left in her body. Kiyoko quickened her pace and began walking towards her car at the end of the estate, nearest to the gate. The place was so large that it took about ten minutes if she kept up her pace.

She could hear the hollow steps that followed her towards her vehicle. Was it the housekeeper running behind her? Did she forget something? She looked behind her to find the Ootori trying to keep up. The man was jogging to reach her.

"Speak to your parents about how you thought the dinner went," Kiyoko waved off, not letting go of her quick pace towards her car. Their disapproval was obvious enough to her that the youngest Hibayashi did not care for the outcome.

"Where do you live?" he breathed as he finally caught up to her.
"Not here," Kiyoko responded cryptically. She stood at the door of her Mercedes. The car automatically unlocked at the presence of the owner – the interior lighting up and the engine turned on with the flick of a button. It needed to warm up in the cold weather after all.

The Ootori tilted his head to look behind her. "We have the same car. Good taste," he commented. It was meant to be a statement to appease her, to get in her good graces – if she had any left for him.

Kiyoko did not. She glared at him with her sharply lined eyes. It was usually enough to scare Nami on most days but not enough for the Ootori. Perhaps he had seen it far too many times. "Go home, Ootori-san," her patience waned thin. She could only keep up this polite façade for so long.

"You could send me home," he tried. He smiled – the kind of smile that was clearly disingenuous. The sort that would fool most women, she figured.

"I'm not your chauffeur," she snarled. Goodness, the man was like an annoying fly today. "Or your friend. Or anything to you," she listed. She didn't want to be anything to him. She had other problems to deal with. She didn't have time for his nonsense.

"You're important," he spoke with such conviction that it nearly surprised the woman. He stood in front of the driver's door, not letting her pass. How could he make her understand? She was not someone he could let go, even if he truly wanted to. "You are needed to prove my dedication to the company."

He spoke the truth. That was all he was after: his company and of course, her family's.

"Your parents think otherwise," Kiyoko reminded.
"My parents don't give a shit," Kyouya scoffed. As if they would care for anything. "It's a test. A test for me. To see how far I'll go to secure the company's assets." Even if your family is a disaster and a half, he wanted to add. But it didn't seem like a comment that she would have taken a liking to.

"And then what?" the businesswoman scoffed. "Then what happens? You live happily ever after? Your career aspirations are commendable, Ootori-san. But you're still naïve and dare I say, you're still human."

"Human?" he repeated with narrowed eyes. She made the word sound so frivolous. So menial. So insignificant against the universe.
"Don't look so offended," Kiyoko laughed. "Humans crave the same thing. We succumb to it. The longing and the desire of being loved." That was something she doubted they could ever cultivate.

"Don't be stupid," Kyouya shot back. Love was a frivolous thing. Something that Tamaki revered and something he did not need in the way of success.
"Just look at my father," Kiyoko made an example out of the dumb old man. "And Misaki. Can't you see how in love he is with that pretty young thing?" The thought of it made her stomach retch inside. It was a point needed to be made. She kept her cool and side stepped around the Ootori to get closer to her car.

"He's…" the Ootori had no words to describe that man. An embarrassment, really. The fact that Kiyoko was related to him was so far-fetched to anybody who saw them. She hardly looked like the man.

"That could be you," Kiyoko smiled wickedly. "He's the embodiment of every man at their core: a cheating bastard after they get their fix of the wealth they had always aspired to have. Is that what you want to be, Ootori-san?" His eyebrows furrowed at the accusation. How fucking rude of her to even insinuate such a thing.

"I would argue that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," his voice low. She was riling him up. That was what she did best. Kyouya kept his cool just as well as she did, shooting back a comment that was equally offensive. They had a stand-off in the cold, only a foot apart.

"Me? A cheating bastard?" Kiyoko laughed. The huff of her warm breath blew into the cool air like smoke. She was probably called worse at some point. "I suppose have the gene for it." She didn't give a fuck what he thought or what the world believed – if she cared so much about it, she would have killed herself many years ago as a teenager.

The best revenge was to live well, after all. And the Ootori looked at her as if she had gone absolutely mad. Well, that was the entire point of it all wasn't it? She was fucking crazy. She lived up to the name. She needed to. That was her family's legacy.

"Are you not human then?" Kyouya posed the question back to her. "You rise above us all, don't you?"
"If I am not human then," Kiyoko shrugged. "Maybe I'm a monster," she smirked at him, as if daring him to retaliate.

"It takes one to know one," the Ootori glared.
"You're a monster?" the woman stepped closer to him, studying him with those dark orbs. She got up so close to him that she could see his breath – the cold air giving him away at how his breath had hitched. Was he afraid? It didn't look like it. He glared back at her. It was that look of determination again. He won't back down; he wouldn't allow himself to. He had come so close – literally so close.

"No, you aren't, Ootori-san. I know monsters. I lived with them. I come from a line of monsters," she whispered into his ear. He shivered against his will. She saw it. She didn't even have to touch him to get him to make his heart skip a beat. An unwarranted reaction. A fight or flight response. "You can't be one of us. You won't survive."

"Survive," he repeated. "What is it about your family that is so fucking dangerous?" the Ootori gritted out.
"The less you know, the better," Kiyoko patted him on the chest with her bare hand. It was almost a way to keep her distance from him. She spoke to him like he was a child who did not know any better. "Why won't you listen to me?" Kiyoko asked him again, her voice now softer. She was so close to him – he tried looking into her eyes for some kind of message. Anything. All he could see was a blank slate. He was distracted by the waft of gardenia. Was it her hair? Her skin? All of her?

"You won't listen to me, either," Kyouya retorted.
"I listen," Kiyoko told him. "I believe you. I understand you," she admitted quietly. Even when she spoke softly, her deep voice cut through the car engine whirring in the background. She released her hand from his chest but not before he moved his arm to keep it there. "Why won't you listen to me? Believe me." She asked again.

"You aren't giving me enough to even consider believing," the man glared. His hand overlapped her bony wrist. He made no move to swat it away. Her wrist was terribly cold while his hands were hot like fire. Was the rest of her body as cold? She didn't look like she was cold – hardly even shivered. His body made the move to pull her closer out of impulse – the only distance between them was the six inches between their faces. Hot breath clouded between them as the only barrier. She looked up at him in curiosity.

"We've only met a handful of times," Kiyoko spoke evenly, her body reveled in the warmth from his coat against her one layered dress. She really should have buttoned up her wool jacket. She did not foresee herself standing outside for this long. "That's hardly enough for you to understand," Kiyoko was lenient. He could tell she was just trying to be nice – it was odd coming from her. He almost preferred it when she was brutally honest.

"But you," he paused. "You…" Kyouya trailed off.
"You're simple," Kiyoko smiled up at him. "Thankfully," she added. "Simple to read. Simple to understand."

"Excuse me?" the Ootori narrowed his eyes at her. She practically called him a simpleton.
"Not a bad thing," Kiyoko tried to appease him. "Simple to read for me. But I used to read people for a living," she reminded, trying to make him feel less stupid over his lack of emotional intelligence. It was to be expected – his ego was bruised. Maybe she'll be nice tonight, but mostly because he was keeping her warm right now. She wondered if he realized how close she was to him – maybe not when she noticed him thinking. He thought hard. Kyouya would stare into space for a few seconds, as if waging all the options and solutions in his mind. He was distracted by her words, not by her body.

"And you're… what? Complicated?" the man glared at her. She shook her head with a smirk.
"No," she laughed. "A monster, remember? Monsters aren't made to be read. They're made to be feared," Kiyoko teased.

"I'm not scared of you," Kyouya repeated himself, straightening his back and looking down at her. He was taller than her, even with those heels she wore. She was the perfect height, he thought to himself.

"Oh, I know," Kiyoko nodded. She gave him a look as if to say: see? I hear you. I'm listening. I believe you. "You're scared of what you don't know about me," she corrected.

"Fuck," he muttered in defeat. She was good. How did she do that?

She heard him murmur the curse word in a low growl. Oh, she hated herself for liking the sound of it. Kiyoko's eyes flickered to his lips before back to his eyes. She hoped he didn't see the glance at his lips. She looked at him defiantly instead. She was human too, no matter how much she hated the thought of it all. "Off?" she quipped. "Or me?" It might have been a poor attempt of a joke seeing how the Ootori was confused by both of those options.

"What?" the Ootori was unable to compute. He just stared at those parted soft maroon painted lips before he lost sight of them when she leaned on him for support to reach his ear. He grounded his stance to welcome her weight against him. He let the heat pool between them.

"Fuck off or fuck me," she whispered against his ear with her tippy toes, her warm breath settled against his jaw for a split second.

She found her footing back down to the ground with a sly smile. She hoped that the man had figured it was a joke. He blinked a few times, trying to read her expression. Kiyoko wondered what her face looked like, if her face had given her away. She wasn't a monster, no. She was human. Did she seem human to him? Did he see her for who she was?

"I…" he stuttered. What did he want? Neither, he thought. Or actually – one option seemed better than the other if he had to be honest. She stepped back from him and looked down at the pavement, almost embarrassed that he didn't laugh. Maybe he really was contemplating the two – of course he would, he was that kind of man. Stupidly literal.

He wanted to reach out for her to bring her back to his chest when she stepped away. The empty space she left let the cool wind take her place. Her chuckle was soft even if it was low, was she embarrassed? No, no it couldn't be, he thought to himself. She was not the kind of woman to be embarrassed at these kinds of comments. It was him who ought to be embarrassed with the way his mouth had been gaping for the past few seconds – to even have considered either of those options seriously.

She saved him the trouble of responding and bowed respectfully before looking up at him, her eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement.

"Good night, Ootori-san. Get home safe," her deep voice had him standing still while she swiftly opened the door to her Mercedes without looking at him. The waft of gardenia still clouded the air around him, even when she drove off and left him standing in the dark.