Cyan Rubies: I think if Kosuke could've properly processed what was going on, she might've put two and two together and say "Wait, isn't that Tamaki's friend?" As-is, she was too blindsided...Thank you for the review!

Lillyannp: Thank you! Suspicions confirmed, "Arranged Marriage" trope is now in motion.

bored411: Ahhh thanks! Really, if Hitsuji and Minami didn't exist, Kosuke would've turned Shigeo down in a heartbeat.

wealhtheow1: Here it is, lol. Thank you!

Ahoshi-chan: Thank you so much!

Guest: Making the first chapters all about OCs was a little nervewracking, but I think it was necessary since Kyoya's is a canon character and people already know what his story is...Thanks a bunch!

Akari. Wolf. Princess: I appreciate it so much! I love how everyone in the fanfiction world, writers and readers alike, have just accepted that reading 99% of fanfictions is like binging on junk food - probably not good for our health, but we love it anyway, lol. And really, please do not feel any incentive whatsoever to go read the OG fic. It was written by 12-year-old me mindlessly bashing her keyboard with no thought of character or plot development and it's just...awful, in my opinion. I'm so looking forward to publishing the rest of this story, especially now that I know what's actually going to happen, lol. Thank you!

Of all the empires in the business world that Kyoya can recall by name—and he can recall many, many things in fantastic detail, names being mere baselines—there have been perhaps not even five that were only controlled by one person. It's not that they had no support, but rather they were the top of the pyramid, the point that all the sides came to.

For all others, it was a trapezoidal prism. That is, a pyramid that topped off in a square instead of a point. Even if there was one particular name that was most accredited to, there were others that had their hands on the wheel, too. If you were smart enough and (admittedly) lucky enough, you could map the organization so that even if those involved were important, they were not unlosable. People were protective of their money, of course, so while many liked to find ways to ensure their partners couldn't leave them, they also steered clear of deals that were basically handcuffs. If that person, or even that company, were to pull out, it would be ideal for it not to be like taking the leg off of a table.

Not even the Ootori family have made it as far as they have without help. It was hard to even call them a zaibatsu anymore, and yet they were still so often called that. They topped the pyramid, but they still had a base to maintain. Sometimes it was as easy as buying out the competition. Other times, there were contracts to be made. And other times still there was a dire need to prevent damage control—hence why all of Kyoya's siblings and many others are in arranged marriages.

DomenMedis one of the companies that the Ootoris do not own, even if it might seem as such. It was a medical company that the general public was well aware of. Chances were, if you lived in Japan and had bandages and ointments at hand, they came from DomenMed. It was a household name, and that was what made it dangerous.

Daisuke Domen had inherited his father's role as the company's head, and much like his father before him, he was incredibly wary of his dealings with the Ootoris. The deal his father made and that he upkept made it so that DomenMed was the only company that the Ootoris had an agreement with, rather than owned—again, not that many would be able to see the difference. The Domens had made it clear from the day that pen touched paper that their partnership was never set in stone and that they could always pull out when they wanted. The Ootoris knew two things: that pulling in DomenMedwas too enticing to refuse, and there would never be reason for the company to ever want to pull out from such a lucrative partnership. The deal was struck.

So now DomenMedis a brick in the pyramid's base, and even though many don't want to admit it—Kyoya included—it is a very large, very important brick that is core in upholding the rest of the structure.

For decades now, predating even Kyoya's time, DomenMedhas had its owned-but-not-truly partnership with Ootori Medical. And for decades now, the head has made reminders of its impermanence. Because they had a leg to stand on, both of the Domen heads have been brave enough to quarrel with both of the Ootori heads. Instead of blindly accepting new regulations and business plans and trajectories, they spoke up, even disagreed. They were heard and listened to, but it was very seldom that their wants were met rather than compromised with.

Daisuke Domen was not a stupid man, and certainly not a bad one. Kyoya had never had any reason to actively dislike him, other than his inability to tell his daughter no. Daisuke was intelligent, even clever, and kindly. He just didn't understand that if you don't follow through on your threats, it's unlikely you'll be taken seriously.

Not that anyone wanted to have DomenMedback out, but he'd made the threat perhaps fifty times now and still nothing had changed. Daisuke was a proud man who was more than aware that he was often looked down upon like a tantrum-throwing child. Specifically, one whose threats of running away from home were met with fond eye-rolls and an amused agreement to what he wanted.

The Domens were highly treasured, just not…feared. For the longest time, Kyoya and perhaps even his father had thought that they were foolish for not establishing otherwise.

Turns out, they were the foolish ones for not being afraid.

The news that DomenMedwas pulling away from Ootori Medical—yes, truly this time, it's actually happening, this isn't just a threat—spread through the business world like wildfire.

Panic ensued.

See, Kyoya is not one to panic. Not over the trivial things that most do, like a failed test or a missing wallet. He'd panicked when he thought Tamaki was actually going to leave with Tonnere, and though he kept it a secret to himself, he'd panicked when he realized that Tamaki and Haruhi had both fallen from at least fifty feet in the air into the ocean.

(That is, that time they were on the beach and Haruhi faced the thugs. He wasn't around when they fell from the carriages, and honestly, when he'd been told what happened, he just accepted it because that sounded exactly like the type of dramatic thing to happen in a dire situation involving Tamaki Suoh.)

Now, though, Kyoya is panicking. This is the leg that had just been removed from the table. Or, rather, a rope that was hanging them over a canyon.

A quick look at the numbers would tell anyone that without DomenMed, the next year was looking at a revenue drop in the millions. It might not sound serious if you were unwealthy enough to consider any number larger than fifty to be big. What was the difference between 1,500 and 1,000? Both were a huge bag of money in the pocket.

The difference was monumental, in fact. That is the word Yoshio uses to describe it.

"Ceasing pay raises and issuing winter bonuses are going to be the least of our troubles." Yoshio looked as neat and tight as ever, and an outsider would think him zen. To Kyoya, however, the tiniest hint of nervousness in his father was gigantic. "We're looking at laying off hundreds."

Yuuichi sits beside him—fitting, as he's so close to the head, but not quite there. He was like many, many others: when he'd heard the news, he'd dismissed it. It took Yoshio himself calling to say it was truly happening for him to hop on the first plane back from his business trip out of the country. He had the same tiny yet huge hint of nervousness as his father. "There is absolutely no changing his mind?"

"No, Yuuichi," Yoshio snaps. "There is no bargaining anymore."

Kyoya sits further down from Yoshio, Yuuichi, and Akito. He's not even "officially" part of the company, so he sits among the non-Ootori attendees of the emergency meeting. It never even crosses his mind to be offended. He'd crunched numbers in his head the second he'd heard the news, and the realization of how disastrous this was going to be hit him like a freight train.

Kyoya knows everyone in the room, but in his mental state, they all blend together into one unimportant shape. Whoever it is, one asks, "What about Yamamoto Health? Haven't we integrated them now?"

"A single coin won't fill a bank," Yoshio scoffs. "There isn't a replacement to be made."

"Father, please." Akito placed a hand on the table, pressing it down. Unlike both of his brothers, Akito had no issue referring to him as 'Father', not 'Mr. Ootori.' "Let me try and talk to him."

Yoshio presses his fingers to his brow and heaves a sigh. "I'm telling you, there's no point. But if you want to try it, go ahead."

One of the other insignificant blobs asks, "Has an official statement been made to the public?"

"No, and if I see a single leak before one is, I'll know that someone here is to blame."

On and on it goes, just…a spiral. Every question and suggestion is shot down, doing nothing but proving how much more hopeless this is. As if the entire point of the meeting was just so they could all wallow in their own self-pity.

The situation is setting itself up to be a crumbling tower. Just being involved with Ootori Medical doesn't make you a millionaire. There were a lot of workers who depended on their employment to feed their families and put a roof over their heads, and they were going to have to be let go. Once it was made public, there would be no doubt that others who had their stake in the business would abandon ship, only furthering the blow.

Hundreds unemployed, and the number would only grow. People would no doubt question the Ootori name. After all, how could they have let such an important connection fall apart?

Kyoya doesn't ignore the rest of the meeting, but he spends it in his head, crunching numbers and trying to estimate the fallout. Unlike his brothers, who hopelessly continue to plea their defenses, he keeps quiet and takes everything in.

He tries to recall what the final straw could have been, but he comes up short. The last time they'd gone toe-to-toe, it was for the tiniest of disagreements: whether or not to use red or blue for the redesigned logo for DomenMed. Either the breaking point was made in private, or there had been an abrupt change of heart.

He wondered, for just a second, if his refused courtship of a certain Amaya Domen played a part in this…but no, that couldn't be. Daisuke Domen knew just as well as the rest of them that Kyoya was never going to fall head-over-heels for his daughter, a fact he'd never tried to deny.

Whatever the reason…This is bad.

This is very, very bad.

By the meeting's end, they have only settled three things: Akito and Yuuichi will personally speak to Daisuke Domen in a last-ditch effort to appeal, there will be no talk to anyone even remotely tied to the media, and they all needed to prepare for the worst hailstorm of their lives.

The men and women flit out one by one, some looking grim, others nervous, until it is nothing but the Ootori father and his sons remaining. Kyoya shouldn't feel like an outsider. He does anyway.

"We're still meeting at two today," Yoshio tells Yuuichi. To Akito, he says, "Head back to the hospital. Keep everything functioning as always."

Yuuichi and Akito both nod grimly, and after a few more instructions, both leave the room. Kyoya pushes his chair up to his table. The meeting room was not built for two people. Halfway down the table, Kyoya feels like his father stands miles away from him. Yoshio takes off his glasses, inspecting the lenses, and puts them back on. It is his version of rubbing at his eyes.

"You said a projection hasn't been made yet," Kyoya says. It isn't a question, because Yoshio hates questions that begin with "didn't you say" with a burning passion.

Yoshio's eyes go to him sharply, narrowing just so. "I did."

"I can do that. I already know the average income DomenMed provides Ootori Medical annually. I can attempt to propose a budget as well, in the event of a worst case scenario, but I will need time to—"

"Kyoya."

Yoshio's eyes have narrowed even more now, and under his mustache, his lip has started to curl just so. It could have been mistaken for a look of disgust, but that would not make sense. Kyoya just can't tell what it is a look of.

His father stares at him a few moments longer before turning his gaze to his cufflinks, which he straightens with stiff fingers.

"Go home for the rest of the day, Kyoya."

He's startled. "Father?"

"Go. Home."

I overstepped my bounds, he frets. He couldn't seem overeager in the face of this. Above all, though, the agreement he'd made with his father was to do anything and everything he was told. So Kyoya goes home.

He makes the budget anyway, in private. It is not perfect, made with more speed in mind than accuracy, but it will work as a rough draft for now. Not that Kyoya intends to show it to anyone else, he just needed to confirm a fact:

This was going to be very, very, very bad.

Kyoya does not sleep that night. It is going to be that bad.

When he was much younger, Kyoya shared something in common with Haruhi: he'd been terrified of thunderstorms. He'd gotten over it rather quickly, and though he couldn't speak on Haruhi's behalf, it was more a matter of the noise for him. He could not stand that painful tingling that took over his body when he flinched in fear at claps of thunder or popping balloons or whatever else. Every thunderstorm that came, he'd go to the innermost room of the house, determined to muffle the sound through the walls.

A thunderstorm is coming, certainly. A nasty one where there are no rumbles of rolls of thunder, only sharp cracks that stab into the ears, and surges that will kill. It will be painful for everyone involved.

And Kyoya, uninvolved in the business as he is, cannot do anything about it.

He'd never felt entitled to all of Ootori Medical's tribulations before. Envious though he was to watch his brothers work alongside his father, he couldn't know everything through his investigations—he'd be missing important information, so what good could he serve?

But now Kyoya is there, practically an employee, and yet he is still an apprentice at most. While his brothers and father are working tirelessly to save the business from certain doom, Kyoya sits at home among his mountains of paper, useless. He'd always been the youngest son. He'd never felt like the baby until now.

He tries to sleep. He takes a sleeping pill, walks around his room, counts backwards from one hundred. He just can't.

As soon as the first headline prints—DOMENMED TO SEPARATE FROM OOTORI MEDICAL—the storm begins.

From miles away, Kyoya can hear the chaos breaking out at Ootori Hospital. His father didn't come home last night, nor did he return at all the next day. He, Yuuichi, and Akito are impossible to contact, not that he even dreamed of doing so.

Everyone would keep at their jobs, keep assisting their patients and keep business running, but no doubt even the most high-positioned employees are wondering how long they'll last. To say nothing of those who had high investments in the company and now needed some sign of reassurance.

There is anger and fear and panic spreading out from his family name, and Kyoya just sits at home.

He's been ordered to stay put the next day, too. Even if Yuuichi and Akito hadn't gone on the last mission to win Daisuke's favor, Yoshio might have had some clairvoyance to know that the news would break to the public just the day after it did to them.

It was foolish, really, not to let Kyoya help somehow. Had he not already proven himself knowledgeable in the ways of damage control? But no. Yoshio has him home and out of the way like a troublesome child.

Kyoya refuses to be useless, however. At home, he fine-tunes his projection from the night before. He keeps an eye on what the press has to say—he already has one case of blatant misinformation to report. "Unsatisfactory performance" was not what Daisuke Domen had said about his reason for leaving. What he had said was that he and Yoshio Ootori could not come to an agreement about the future of DomenMed with Ootori Medical, specifically in regards to collaboration and distribution to retailers.

More than anything, Kyoya has to ignore the constant ringing of his phone.

From: Mitsukuni
2 MISSED CALLS
Kyo-chan, is it true? Takashi and I just heard!

From: Hikaru
1 MISSED CALL
Heard Mom and Dad talking about DomenMed…is it going to be bad?

From: Kaoru
1 MISSED CALL
Just learned about DM. I don't know specifics but a lot of people are upset. Is everything OK?

And, of course, from the two people he both wants to and cannot stomach seeing right now:

From: Haruhi
3 MISSED CALLS
You know I don't know a lot about business stuff but I just heard about that medical group pulling out from Ootori Med.
Tamaki says they're really important to you guys.
Is everything okay?
I'm seeing a lot of stuff on the internet about it.
I can't tell if people are freaking out or just talking about what's happening…
Can you text me back?
Do you need help?

From: Tamaki
52 MISSED CALLS

Kyoya please pick up my calls
I know that what's going on is bad
Please let me know if I can help
Kyoya please pick up
Dad says a lot of people are angry.
I'm really worried about you. Please pick up.

Kyoya eventually stuffs his phone under his pillow just to stifle the sound. He needs to focus. Three times one of the house staff comes to offer him food: first breakfast, then lunch, then tea. He shuts it all down, because somehow all this has destroyed his appetite. He feels both wide awake and incredibly exhausted. He isn't a messy person by nature, but his desk becomes a hellscape of paper and manila folders.

He has to use this time to think, not whine to his friends about how hard everything is.

Complaining isn't going to get work done. Work gets work done.

That said, his resolve almost breaks when another housekeeper enters his room, looking equal parts fearful and apologetic, and says, "Mr. Tamaki is here. He says he wants to see you."

The knowledge that Tamaki is there, maybe as close as the living room, makes Kyoya pause. It is so tempting in the worst way to just go out there, or let Tamaki come to his room. Tamaki would not be bouncing off the walls wailing of what they were going to do. Kyoya had gotten used to Tamaki's pattern of reacting to situations of varying seriousness, not that he'd be able to tell anyone.

No, Tamaki would have come in with a concerned frown and a steady voice, and probably the first thing he would ask is if Kyoya's okay, and then clarification for what's going on. They'd talk about what was happening and what was going to happen, and maybe Tamaki would know that Kyoya did not want to talk about himself, so he'd find a way to talk about the situation while also somehow focusing on Kyoya. Everything he'd say would have the undercurrent of "And what about you, Kyoya? How does that affect you?"

He couldn't recall ever seeking Tamaki out for guidance. Rather, the blonde prince tended to come to him unasked and bestow his surprising wisdom without prompt.

And maybe he still can't seek Tamaki out—because what could Tamaki possible tell him that he didn't already know?—but it would be so terribly nice just to have him here. To let him talk and listen, to somehow comfort him and make him forget what was happening all at once. He was amazing like that, Tamaki Suoh.

He wants to say that it's his pragmatic, cynical side that has him answer, "Tell him I said I don't wish to see him. Very kindly ask him to leave." Because Tamaki can't distract him, and again, he has no time to wallow in grief while there's still work to do.

In truth, however, he knows that it's the same story it has been for months now. It doesn't matter how happy or peaceful the occasion, being with Tamaki or Haruhi just stings a little now, in a way that can't be helped. In the position he's in right now, that little sting might just break him.

From: Haruhi
2 MISSED CALLS
Tamaki told me about coming to see you today.
And that you aren't responding to his messages
I'm not chiding you or anything.
I don't know if I'd want to see anyone myself.
Or if I'd want to read 38 messages asking if I'm okay.
I understand if you want to be left alone.
You don't even have to respond to this.
But if you decide you don't want to talk to anyone right now…
Please just ask yourself why
and please don't answer that it's about work or focus or anything like that
You can go through this without isolating yourself.
If you want to see someone please go see them.
Don't shut yourself off.
I won't call anymore.
I don't think you want me to.
That's fine.
But I'm going to keep my phone on me.
Just in case you want to call instead.

In the weeks that go by after, things only get worse.

Yoshio is forced to make an official statement about DomenMed's departure. It is of the managerial reassurance variety, with statements like "doing everything we can" and "no need to panic." People ignore both, whispering behind their hands about how Ootori Medical is about to crash and burn. Already there has been a spike in employees going above and beyond duties in a helpless attempt to make themselves harder to replace.

Kyoya returns to work with no fanfare. He gives the projection to his father, who neither thanks him nor scolds him for it. He just takes it and walks away without a word. Somehow the days go faster, even if they stretch for over ten hours, because everything melts together into a repetitive mess. Employees hush as he approaches, no one seeks him out for questions, and even when he has to work directly with someone, eye contact is never maintained.

For now, they hang on the thread that is Yoshio's diplomacy skills. Through some way or another, he has managed to sway many from jumping ship, promising that he will—one way or another—figure out just what to do. Kyoya hopes that he figures it out soon. He doesn't know how much of this he can take, because he's already getting hot in the face at the most innocent interruptions.

Kyoya goes a very, very long stretch without talking or seeing anyone. For the twins and the 'Zukas, their messages are a slow trickle. They ask if he's okay, but they know it's unlikely he'll respond. Haruhi and Tamaki talk more consistently to him. For Tamaki, his messages and voicemails are hardly anything besides begging him to talk or let them meet up some way or another. For Haruhi, her messages are open hands disguised as updates. She'll say "Tamaki and I are going to visit my friend in Karuizawa", but what she means is "Hey, I'm still here whenever you decide to talk to me."

That Kyoya is starting to get annoyed with simple sympathy is a warning sign that he does not miss. It just makes him more put off by the idea of responding. He doesn't want to risk snapping at them for no reason, or just because they tried to help. He wants to say he can control his temper then that, but his temper hasn't been tested so far before.

There is one thing that is stressing Kyoya in an entirely different way. It comes with confusion and concern, and when his mind finally goes to it from the situation at hand, it's a very abrupt change in pace.

Jin Ootori has been completely silent on this whole matter.

No official statements, no interviews, no anything. All that Yoshio has said in regards to his wife is that she, too, is focused on getting the situation under control. That's it.

Jin has not called Kyoya or Fuyumi since she left, which was over a month ago by this point. They have heard nothing of her on a personal or business level.

It was true that the Ootoris were not the most tightly-knit bunch, certainly not the sunshine-and-happiness family you'd see on television, but Kyoya wasn't cold-hearted enough to pretend that he was not concerned about his mother.

Fuyumi took a lot from her mother, maybe even too much. Take Jin's emotionality and maternal care, multiply it by a hundred, and you get Fuyumi. Jin was an elegant woman, so much so that even in those moments of touched tears and fretting over her children, she never had a hair out of place. Given, the last time she'd outright doted on any of her children was probably years ago. Probably Kyoya had gotten a high fever and she'd come to his room to see if he was okay. Something normal, as one last farewell before he went on to adulthood.

Since the family has drifted about in their own united but independent directions, Kyoya's interactions with his mother have been sparser. The last time they had actually sat down to talk was rushed for work and nothing particularly meaningful, just a "how have things been" talk.

Still…Kyoya thinks of his mother's young laughter and reassuring pats on the shoulder and can't help but worry after her.

He takes it on himself to call her. Besides taking care of basic human necessities, it's probably the only break he has allowed himself. At eleven o'clock at night—which was very late, but Jin had never shown care for when she called her children or vice-versa—Kyoya holds his phone to his ear, listening to the ring.

A robotic, feminine voice answers, "I'm sorry, the person you are attempting to call could not be reached at the moment. Please leave a message after the beep."

In the half of a second before that beep, Kyoya is hit with a spike of concern and disappointment. Then he realizes that maybe it really is just too late in the day this time, and the beep sounds off so it's time to leave a message.

"Hello, Mother. It's Kyoya. I know you've been busy, but it's been a while since we've talked. Just—call me back whenever you can so I know everything's alright. Goodbye."

That's all to be said, and after he hangs up, he regrets just how robotic he sounded.

The next morning, just two minutes into his daily wake-up routine, one of the staff comes to his door once again. Her apron is the only thing that piques his interest. He's unsure about why one of the kitchen staff would be coming to his room this early.

"I'm sorry, Master Kyoya. It's Missus Shido, she's…in the kitchen."

"In the kitchen" almost turns out to be too literal a phrase, because Fuyumi is in such a helpless heap on the kitchen floor that she seems almost like she's melting into it. It's already a rare sight to see her without any styled hair or designer clothing, so Kyoya is very, very disturbed to see her hair pulled back in a rat's nest of a bun and dressed in just shorts and a sweatshirt. Pajamas. Fuyumi never walked out of her bedroom in pajamas.

"She arrived late last night," one of the chefs told Kyoya as he approached. "We don't know when she got here."

Kyoya has no choice but to kneel down over his older sister and ask, "Fuyumi, what's going on?"

"Wanted t' may tea…" comes the slurred response. "Wanted t' may tea beeforya woke-ah."

Though he is certainly not the strongest man on the earth—his strength was fairly meager in comparison to the 'Zukas, for instance—Kyoya at least has the ability to put one arm under Fuyumi's legs, the other under her back, and lifts her up from the floor.

"Nooooo," she protests. You'd think she's only five, and not nearing thirty.

"Yes," answers Kyoya.

But then Fuyumi starts to wriggle and squirm, and not wanting to drop her on the floor, Kyoya re-routes for the dining room and sets her down in one of the chairs. It's not graceful, and her legs end up over the armrest, but it's better than laying around in a heap.

Fuyumi still whines as Kyoya takes a seat beside her. Breakfast has already been set out for him—croque madame, sliced fruit, freshly-squeezed orange juice—and though his starved body growls, Kyoya first takes up his coffee cup and slides it over to his sister. He always gets it as caffeinated as can safely be, which is exactly what she needs right now.

She doesn't protest, and though he worries that she'll end up spilling scalding hot coffee in her sleep-limp grasp, she manages to take a sip. It's enough to perk her up. Not to move from dangling her legs over the arm rest, but enough to not look one blink away from going back under.

"I wanted to make you tea before you woke up," she told him. "I brought the lavender kind you like."

"As thoughtful as that is, you shouldn't do that while you're sleepwalking." Kyoya slides over the sugar and creamer to her. He knows she never takes her coffee black. "What are you doing here?"

"I was going to come sooner. Everything's been so crazy. Tetsu and I have hardly seen each other for days."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I'm here to make sure you're okay, Kyoya!" She answers like it's the most obvious answer in the world, which, alright, fair enough, it is. "I know you were going to throw yourself into work the second I heard what was happening."

"As opposed to anyone else?"

"I love you, Kyoya, but you know you take this stuff much more personally." Fuyumi swirls sugar into her coffee, the spoon clinking on the sides of the cup. She looks sadder, suddenly. "Besides, between you, Akito, and Yuuichi, you're the only one that doesn't get angry when I visit."

In all fairness, Kyoya knows she isn't talking about now, specifically. Fuyumi has always come unannounced unless she had a reason to call ahead of time. She liked to surprise her family. It's always been an annoyance, sure, but mostly harmless. Kyoya understood she just wanted to talk and visit; her intent was never to cause trouble. While Kyoya has always taken on her impromptu arrivals with reluctance at most, Akito and Yuuichi are not so forgiving. From what Fuyumi tells, they rush through the visits, and their way of saying goodbye was a stern warning to call ahead the next time.

Now, though, he can't help but feel that Akito and Yuuichi would be very justified in their annoyance. It's not the time for chitchatting over tea. He isn't exactly jubilant to see Fuyumi unannounced, but then again, she isn't really interfering with work.

Perhaps he's being too bitter. Kyoya does love his sister, bad communication aside.

He tells her, "If you want to see Akito or Yuuichi, you probably won't be able to for a while now."

"I know. It just feels like every time something happens in the family, everyone forgets that I'm a part of it, too. 'You should've called, Fuyumi.' 'I don't have time, Fuyumi.'"

Then Kyoya feels guilty for ever being annoyed in the first place. With a little huff, he takes off half of his croque madame, puts it on his coffee saucer, and slides it to her. She offers a tiny smile in thanks.

It isn't often that Kyoya is the first to try and keep a conversation going. These are confusing times. "I tried to call Mother last night. She didn't pick up."

Fuyumi swallows, pauses, and replies, "She hasn't answered my calls for weeks now. Do you think something is wrong?"

"Maybe she knew what was happening. She's always been on friendlier terms with the Domens than the rest of us."

"Still…It isn't like her to leave us high and dry like this."

"I'm sure she's fine. Probably just very, very busy."

"Just like everyone else." Her voice still carries some of that acknowledged bitterness to it. Upset that she's being left behind, but understanding that things are very stressful at the moment. "Maybe we should go visit ourselves."

She doesn't mean it. It's too poor of an idea for her to be sincere. When Kyoya doesn't say anything in reply, she doesn't push it.

There are voices from down the hall, and it seems that they both write it off as the kitchen staff talking at first. Then another voice is added to it, deep and familiar. They both freeze.

Suddenly, Fuyumi's limbs have turned into windmills, flapping and flailing about in her scramble to get out of her chair. "I didn't tell him I was coming!"

Kyoya grabs her coffee before she ends up knocking it over. "Can't you just say you're visiting?"

"Not now!" Footsteps start nearing the dining room, alarming she and he both. "Don't tell him!"

Kyoya thinks that she's about to run to the kitchen, or through the door or—no. Behind the window curtains it is.

He just hardly manages to get the half-eaten croque madame back to his plate when Yoshio comes in. He looks sharp for a man who has gone more than twenty-four hours without sleep. His alertness isn't top-notch, however. When his eyes land on Kyoya, he blinks.

"I would've thought you'd been gone by now."

"I'm leaving in just a minute." He might not have meant it as a scolding, but Kyoya takes it as one anyway.

Yoshio does not immediately walk off. Not wanting to give away anything, Kyoya takes a sip of coffee to keep up a look of normalcy and eugh does Fuyumi take her coffee like syrup.

His father steps closer rather than further away. Kyoya doesn't stand (that would be awkward, he thinks), but he turns his chair to better face him. Yoshio folds his arms over the front of his suit, looking down at his son silently for a long moment. He must have come home to refresh. Kyoya can see the slight grease to his hair.

"Amaya Domen." One of Yoshio's fingers tap against his elbow. "What is it about her you don't like?"

Kyoya blinks, chides himself for it, and blinks again. "I'm sorry?"

"I already have a pretty good idea, but tell me." Yoshio's gaze flicks up to the ceiling in what is almost an eyeroll. "Don't bother minding your manners. I don't intend on telling anyone what you say."

The thought that perhaps this is coming from his rebuttal of Amaya's affections pops into his head once again, and once again, it leaves just as quickly. Would Yoshio not have pushed him into accepting an engagement if that were the case?

Why else would he be asking? Kyoya thinks.

He has asked, though, and he's awaiting some kind of answer.

"Amaya is intelligent—" Three words, and Yoshio's stare is already flatter. He hadn't been kidding about not minding manners. "—but to be frank, she's also very immature. She essentially ignored me in all our meetings, but when I told Mr. Domen I didn't have any romantic feelings for her, she took it as an insult. I seriously doubt her attempts to set up another date between us was out of a sincere desire to see me again. I think she was just trying to win."

It isn't hard to keep bitterness from coming through his voice, because really, he's not bitter. He's tired. That first "date" between them, the "Hey I have a son around the same age as your daughter—let's see if they want to be together" date, Amaya refused to look at him as he spoke, didn't ask after him, and answered in clipped one-word answers to his questions. Same for the next few dates, so she should've been happy when Kyoya finally shut it down. Instead, she insisted on trying again, and their last meeting was around an hour of her sneer-smiling at him, trying to figure out why he wasn't tripping over his feet to impress her.

Even if he didn't already have his heart taken elsewhere, Kyoya could never see himself feeling anything romantic for Amaya Domen. He's not warm and welcoming, himself, but he doesn't get enraged when he does not get fawned over.

"Immature." Yoshio says it in agreement, then turns while tightening his tie. "I'm going to freshen up. Get to work soon."

So if there was a reason for bringing up Amaya Domen, Kyoya doesn't get it. He watches Yoshio walk off down the hall.

Then he takes one step back, cranes his neck around the entryway, and calls, "You need to call when you come to visit, Fuyumi."

From the vaguely humanoid lump in the curtains, his almost-thirty sister whines in response.

To: Haruhi Fujioka

Hello.

From: Haruhi Fujioka

Hey
Happy you're finally reaching out.
Everyone is worried

I've been busy. I haven't had time to talk.

I know. I understand.
Still
Maybe just say you're okay and leave it at that.

Tamaki has been calling me nonstop.
He won't settle for one text.

He would.
He understands that this is very serious.
You should give him more credit than that.

I'll text him soon.

Can you please just tell me what's going on?
I kind of know what's going on
but I'd like to hear it from you.

The connection between DomenMed and Ootori
Medical has been very critical for years now.
Annual revenue from their products is in the
millions.
We were in a conditional partnership, and
Daisuke Domen has officially cut it off.
If we cannot find a sufficient means of
compensating for the loss, we're looking at
hundreds of employees losing their jobs.

Is there nothing that can be done?

We're exploring options.
But it doesn't look good.

That's horrible
I'm so sorry.
I can't imagine dealing with that.

I'm sorry for not keeping in contact.

No, it's okay.
Like I said, I understand.
Sometimes you'd rather deal with stuff alone
even though everyone says that's wrong.
I don't blame you for not having time.
But like I said just let us know you're okay.

It wasn't my intent to be mean.
There just isn't any advice that's going to help.
Talking about how horrible things are won't
get anything done.
I need to work.
Not complain.

Maybe this is just me, but when I'm in a situation
where no one can really "help" me…
It still means a lot just to know they're thinking about me
I didn't always think that, you know.
I used to think I had to deal with everything myself.
After I joined the Host Club, you guys showed me that
wasn't true.
Just a little support goes a long way.

I'm sorry, but it's not the same.
This isn't a personal issue that good wishes can help.
The entire company is in danger.
People will lose their jobs, we'll have to cut corners.
It's only going to get worse.
A pat on the shoulder won't fix that.

Alright.
I'm sorry.
I guess this is exactly what you didn't want.
Just don't push yourself to the breaking point.
I know you.
You've always gone above and beyond even before
this.
Do what you think you need to do.
But please don't act like you're expendable.

[DELETED MESSAGE]
[DELETED MESSAGE]
I'll talk to Tamaki soon.

The next weeks are nothing short of a nightmare.

From dawn until dusk, every day of work pushes Kyoya to his very limits. It could be that nothing much has changed, but the disconnection of DomenMed has rattled the company from top to bottom.

No one is especially acting like their true selves, not even Kyoya. He's always been mindful of upkeeping a professional but welcoming image—the better he looked, the better the Ootoris looked. Now, he doesn't have the strength to keep up a smile, or indulge in chitchat. He's snappy and curt and he thinks he has a reason to be.

Before, interactions depended on who he was with. Higher-ups were normal enough, knowing he was the youngest Ootori son but not with much power, least of all over them. Those lower on the ladder were much more prone to kissing up and ducking their heads.

He would prefer that to this. The higher-ups were terser now, annoyed, and more than one had sent a dirty look his way. "Lower-downs" weren't above fleeing from him or shaking in their boots as he approached. As if he would fire them just for looking his way.

They were in the process of considering who would have to be let go in the worst-case scenario. The most menial jobs would be hit hardest. Other positions were looking to be merged together.

So far no one has been officially fired in light of DomenMed's departure. Kyoya is worried for those whose behavior and performance has been affected, however. One day an employee neglects to inform them of the Ootori Hospital's disposable glove supply slipping below the critical line. His defense was that he thought he'd be able to take care of it. It was very terribly ironic: in his attempt to prove himself valuable, his mistake cost him his job.

Kyoya is lucky not to have to worry about any social events—everyone understands why the Ootoris cannot be present at their galas and weddings and such. On top of giving himself more time to work, it makes it easier to avoid those that he knows are seeking him out.

Not that there aren't other things to take up time, or difficulty in avoiding others. He is still attending college. There's no way around that. Kyoya does not have to worry about getting behind on his classwork or letting his average slip. He'll always be perfect in those regards. But he still has to be in class, and every hour chips away at time he could be spending helping at the company.

He has managed, not intentionally, to get a semester schedule wherein he shares no classes with any of the others. Still, he can still spot glimpses of Tamaki and the twins in the hallways. He always beelines to leave immediately after class ends—sometimes he has things scheduled at the exact time class dismisses for the day, a no-win scenario—but he wouldn't be surprised if he was spotted at least once.

Despite the situation at hand, he somehow manages to spend the least amount of time with his family than he ever has before. He hasn't seen Akito or Yuuichi in weeks now. He's lucky to talk to his father for more than five minutes a day. Fuyumi is back home, apparently keeping out of the way, and Kyoya is surprised to run into Tetsu at work one day. It wasn't much, they really did just meet by happenstance, but he knew Tetsu regretted not being able to talk longer. Kyoya actually quite liked his brother-in-law. He just wished he could see him more.

As for everyone else, Kyoya is on radio silence.

Hani and the twins' messages and calls trickle to a stop. Haruhi limits herself to at most two messages a day, and Tamaki remains persistent. Kyoya does as promised and sends him a message saying he's fine, but that one message has his phone vibrating for an hour afterwards. Just as he predicted.

He is…not proud of his current state. Leaving those who care about him worried because he can't find the time of day to talk. Ignoring basic needs like food and rest. Trying to get his determination to save his family's business and protect the jobs of many to squash that still-persistent part of him just trying to get his father's approval.

He really just wished his mind and heart would have some kind of instinctual bodily defense against this. Wouldn't it be nice, to work like a computer? To make more room for work and school, simply delete all the confusing feelings you have about your friends to release storage. Simple as that.

Sometimes, in the moments where he was all but forcing himself to try and get some sleep, he thought back to days when all he had to worry about was ordering costumes for the Host Club, or scheduling their events for the semester. They feel as childish as his primary school days now.

There also used to be days when he wasn't in love with Tamaki Suoh and Haruhi Fujioka. At least back then he didn't have to deal with jealousy and heartbreak and longing and all the other stupid, unnecessary feelings turning his body into a self-contained warzone.

In truth, however, Kyoya knows he would never want to go back to those days. To not be in love with them would mean never knowing them in the first place, and Kyoya is self-aware enough to know that they have both changed him for the better.

Day-by-day life as he knows it comes crashing down with one meeting with his father.

It's been a little over a month and a half now. Adjustments are being made. Some employees have been let go.

Yoshio has almost been ignoring him for weeks now. If they talked, it was only about business, and DomenMed was always an elephant in the room. They pointedly did not talk about it. In terms of instruction and news, all of Yoshio's messages were indirect, either through email, phone, or someone sent his way.

Kyoya had been desperately awaiting the moment when Yoshio would finally open the door and usher him in to help, however minimally as he could. With every day that passed, he felt more and more like a child waiting for the grownups to get done with their meeting. When he was finally summoned to Yoshio's office, he was relieved in a terrible way.

The relief didn't last too long.

Yoshio's office was modest for a man of his importance. It was wide, yes, but the only furniture within were the desk, a coffee table, and seats. Focus was more on the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the skyline of Tokyo. Yoshio's office was about as neat and tidy as he was.

His father is sitting behind his desk with his elbows on the surface and his fingers interlaced just under his chin. He is ever-so-slightly leaning forward. As soon as Kyoya shuts the door behind him, Yoshio tells him, "Sit."

He does, across from him on the other side of the desk. It isn't his first time there.

Yoshio takes a moment to speak. "What all do you have scheduled for the rest of the day?"

"Other than the meeting at two, I'm going to look over the proposed schedule for the CPR classes, and the hospital cafeteria is having a machinery issue. I was also—"

Yoshio holds up a hand. "That'll all be taken care of."

Either he was about to be involved in something of higher importance and necessitating more time…or Kyoya was about to be sent home again. He braced himself.

His father inspects his lenses. Considering his words. With a miniscule roll of his shoulders, he asks, "How familiar are you with Amida Health?"

Not as familiar as he is with other medical companies, being one based overseas, but Kyoya keeps himself informed on nearly everything. Two generations ago, Takeo Amida (if he recalled the name correctly) went from Japan to America, where his advancements in the technology field of health boomed into a business found in nearly every American hospital. It wasn't household like DomenMed. Amida Health's technology was based more in hospital equipment and machinery, which was just as profitable.

As of recent, their products have spread to smaller-scale but equally successful ideas. Prosthetics, CGMs, and more over-the-counter things like thermometers and pregnancy tests. Only a few have been available to buy as of recent. In terms of business with Japan, Amida Health equipment was found in many hospitals and clinics throughout the country. Just not those under Ootori Medical, who created their own equipment.

He summarizes all of this to Yoshio, who gives a single nod of confirmation. "Shigeo Amida and I have been discussing a possible merger between Ootori Medical and Amida Health."

That…is actually fantastic.

Kyoya will have to crunch numbers, of course. It might not completely cover the loss of DomenMed, but it will do wonders for the state of the company.

He can't sigh in relief just yet, though. It is only a possibility, it seems. There's also something rather grim about Yoshio at the moment.

"If this happens," Yoshio says, "It could very well save us from what we've been fearing would happen in the next year. It won't be perfect. We will have to cut people still. But for the good of our business and everyone involved, it's an opportunity we need to keep a grasp on. Do you agree?"

"Of course."

Another pause.

"This is a situation that I never expected to be in. I will admit to not doing more to ensure safety."

Kyoya is unable to catch himself in time. Yoshio quirks up an eyebrow at him. "What's that look for?"

He thinks about coming up with a demure lie to save face, but thinks against it. His father's perception to lies is likely sky-high at the moment. "I can't help but feel you're about to share some bad news."

Yoshio blinks, taps his thumb on his joined hands, and leans back in his chair with a slight creak. In a very, very rare show of blatant exhaustion, Yoshio runs his hand over his mouth and goatee. He doesn't deflate, not completely. If anything, he's having the very human experience of giving himself a moment to bask in the awfulness of the situation.

"Has something else happened?" offers Kyoya.

"No."

"Then what's the problem?"

"There is quite a lot that's 'the problem' right now," Yoshio not-quite snaps. He tries to compose himself, but only manages to straighten his posture again. "I'm not proud of this, Kyoya."

It's then that Kyoya decides there really isn't any reason in trying to play the complying son with a ducked head anymore. No response is a good response, there are just neutral and worse. "I know."

"You don't know. I should be able to solve this by myself, not by pleading for assistance from another business. At the very least, I should have been able to stop this from ever happening in the first place."

"You told me once that there would be times when you'd need to seek help from the outside."

"Not from your children."

Pride, he himself had said, but not the kind Kyoya had initially thought. He knew his father identified himself with Ootori Medical first and foremost. To say that having what could be the worst financial loss in the company's history happen under his management struck Yoshio hard would be a woeful understatement. Kyoya must have forgotten that just because they were part of the business now, it did not mean Akito and Yuuichi had stopped being Yoshio's sons. Had Yoshio felt humiliated when they offered their help in swaying Daisuke Domen back over? When Kyoya had given him his projections, was that the biggest insult a son could manage?

Actually…That just reminded Kyoya that his father has always had two forms of pride. He had hit both hard when he'd saved the company from the Tonneres. Judging by the brief narrowing of Yoshio's eyes at him, he was also reminded.

His father's next words were clipped. "I don't like saying this, but everyone in this family needs each other." Except me, Kyoya thought childishly. "Akito and Yuuichi have proven themselves to be vital in the structure of Ootori Medical. True, Fuyumi may not be involved, but Tetsu is."

He let those words hang in the air for a moment. After, he said nothing, but Kyoya knew the command: Ask the question. Ask, 'What about me?' He saw it clear behind Yoshio's glasses.

"What about Mother?"

Even Kyoya hadn't thought he was going to say that.

Surprise flickers across Yoshio's face. He composes himself, but not as quickly has he usually does, not from one to the other. Kyoya identifies discomfit in the short glance to the side Yoshio makes, and…bitterness.

The questions he'd had about Jin, where she was, how she was, why she wasn't talking to them, they began to swell in the few seconds of silence that followed. Now was no time to ask them. He knew that. He just also knew that this was going to be another thing that would weigh down on his mind.

At long last, Yoshio joins his hands atop the desk again, and continues forth as if Kyoya had said what he'd wanted him to say. "As of now, even you are providing…probably the most monumental help to this family you ever can or will."

He is certainly not talking about the projections.

Whatever he is about to say, it makes Yoshio purse his lips at he prepares himself. This is really, genuinely disgusting him. Kyoya is almost nervous.

"Shigeo Amida's familial situation has been very private for many years now. On top of that, it wasn't something to care about. Do you know anything at all of it?"

His pause comes not from pondering, but from taking in the pointed dismissal of his mother. Kyoya bites the inside of his cheek once before answering, "I know that he was married once, but divorced."

A stiff nod. "As I said, it was nothing to pay mind to. It was the personal life of a stranger I never planned to associate with. Even now, I don't know all the details, certainly not the ones I would most like to know. What I do know is that Mr. Amida's wife was the daughter of the Suzuki family. You've probably never heard of them; their business never went anywhere. After the divorce, Mr. Amida's ex-wife returned to Japan, and she had a child soon after."

On his life, he has no idea what this has to do with anything, but Kyoya nods obediently. There is a possibility that he has heard of the Suzukis, but…well, that's the surname of millions in Japan.

"Mr. Amida's daughter has been raised apart from her father, but recently, unexpected changes in circumstance—" His voice drips with disdain of the words. "—have brought the two together. Mr. Amida never remarried, and he is working with his daughter to set her up to become the heiress of Amida Health."

This—

—this moment—

—should have been answer enough.

Kyoya is not stupid. He has never been stupid.

So maybe it was a moment of defensive naivete that kept him from realizing what was happening.

The last thing Yoshio does is tap his thumb one more time, on his knuckle.

"Mr. Amida has agreed to a partnership between our companies on the condition that you marry his daughter."

And suddenly, everything—DomenMed, Ootori Medical, Fuyumi, his mother, Tamaki and Haruhi, college, his future, his family—just fade away into nothing. They will have to be resized and restructured to make room for what his life will be now.