Alnitak8: Thank you!
bored411: Thanks! I swear every chapter so far is just Kyoya and Kosuke learning more about each other but I'm living for it lol. Also more breadcrumbs for the ship.
Akari Wolf Princess: Thank you for all of your comments! I really appreciate all of them. I'm happy that everyone is enjoying the series of fluff-tastic chapters so far. And if the past few chapters made you squeal, well...Just wait until you read this one ;)
Happy holidays everyone! This year has been an absolute travesty but I hope you're all seeing some reprieve at the end. Here's hoping that 2022 will be infinitely better.
My hope for the next year is to get chapters out at a more steady pace by virtue of New Year's Resolutions, but I guess I've made empty promises before ._. I've also been considering revising some of the previous chapters. I've been re-reading the earliest ones, and they uh...kinda suck? I swear I just keep finding sentences or whole paragraphs and thinking, What's the point of this? Thing is I'll have to find a way to do so without changing the chapter numbers. What to do, what to do...
Note to self: write out a story in its entirety before you upload it next time. Then you won't stress over the stuff you wish you'd done differently.
In all seriousness, thank you all so much for your support! Writing this fic takes time but it's a stress reliever for me. See you guys in 2022 :)
Let it not be said that Kyoya doesn't know how to count his blessings. Despite everything that's happened over the past year, he knows that he is still incredibly fortunate.
He supposes that he could call his grades a blessing, too, though he'd rather consider them accomplishments. School has never been an issue for him; he's never made anything less than a 95 his entire life. Even now, in university, the time is the issue, not the work.
Still, he can be grateful—especially when term's end looms closer and pressure builds on campus. Hardly halfway through November, it's impossible to go anywhere and not find students with their noses stuck in their notes.
Tamaki has not been spared the need to study, either, which is why it comes as no surprise to Kyoya when he invites him to have lunch together. Tamaki always has unwound through socializing. He'd had long ago ceased his lunch invitations after too many nos to count—any meal with Tamaki will be three times as long as without him—but Kyoya is willing to make an exception to help him relax.
He's surprised, but not upset, to find Kosuke seated at the table as well. Kyoya had just assumed through her silence that her studies were going well, so he has no reason to assume that this lunch is a respite for her.
The longer they sit and eat, however, the more Kyoya picks up that something is not right.
"Tadanobu just sounded so upset. He says his grandmother should be just fine, but to deal with that and a major project." Tamaki shakes his head and takes a sip of tea. "I told him I would take care of it, and not to worry. I just hope his other classes won't keep him from her."
Kyoya gives him a good five seconds to see if he'll figure it out himself. He doesn't. "Tamaki, have you noticed that every time you and Tadanobu partner for a project, something always happens that keeps him from doing his part? A terrible headache, a family vacation, a sick grandmother…"
"Are you saying that he's just making it up? That's horrible! Kosuke, what about you? Do you agree?"
Kosuke is somewhere too far away to hear him. She's twirling her spoon in her teacup so slowly it isn't even stirring the surface of her tea, which she's staring at as attentively as the page of a book. Tamaki repeats her name, and she awakens. "I—Sorry. What was that?"
"Kyoya thinks Tadanobu is lying about his grandmother so he doesn't have to do his part of the project. What do you think?"
"Oh. Um…I don't know, Tamaki, the timing does seem really convenient."
"But why would he lie? Why would he just give up on school like that?"
"Not everyone is fond of schoolwork," Kyoya offers, but Tamaki doesn't accept that, either.
Tamaki goes on to defend Tadanobu, because it must be so stressful, to have a beloved grandmother who always gets sick around this time of year, though it is a bit strange that he didn't mention it last year or the year before, and didn't she join them on that family vacation? Kyoya leaves him to his process and focuses on Kosuke, whose attention to Tamaki keeps coming and going. Whatever is on her mind will not be shaken off.
She's no better by the time Tamaki just drops the subject, and she startles again when he asks how her classes have been for her.
"Yeah. Yeah, they're all—They're great." She takes a sip of tea that's gone cold and grimaces. "Easier than I thought they'd be."
"That's great! You've made it through your first term. Congratulations!"
"The term's not over yet," she counters with a weak laugh.
"Ah, what's a month's difference? You'll come out with all A's, I'm positive of it."
Kosuke just drinks the rest of her cold tea and says nothing else.
Soon after, Tamaki thanks them for eating with him, and says he should get started on Tadanobu's part of the project—saying this last part with hesitance. Kosuke takes his leave as a cue to do the same, and starts to lift her bookbag over her shoulder.
Kyoya asks, "What's wrong?"
She stills and stares. "What?"
"What's wrong?" Still nothing. Is there any such thing as getting straight to the point with her? "You're distracted, you're quiet, and you're obviously upset about something."
Kosuke opens her mouth.
"You don't have to tell me not to worry about it, and if it was nothing, you wouldn't be upset."
Kosuke closes her mouth.
Kyoya leans back in his chair and looks her over. He just doesn't get how she can talk to him about his issues without so much as a stutter, but once the tables turn she shuts like a clam. Though he supposes pots shouldn't call kettles black.
"I'm not annoyed. I'm just asking."
It still takes a few more moments of her sitting rigged. When she releases her bookbag strap, it's with no confidence. Even when she finally pulls out a sheet of paper, it keeps pulling back.
Then she just pushes it towards him so fast it almost makes him jump.
For a moment Kyoya thinks about just dropping it, but figures it's now or never. He takes the paper and sees red ink—marks, lines, and right at the top, 72.
Kosuke doesn't look at him while he reads it over, but there's nothing to read; it's just the answer sheet. Still, Kyoya pretends so he can consider his words.
"A 72 is still 'good.'" He extends it back. "You could have done much worse."
"If I had done slightly worse, then that would have been much worse." Kosuke shakes her head as she slides the paper back into her bag. "Three points lower and it would've just been a passing grade."
"A high passing grade."
"The first day of class, my teacher said that the day that Ouran students start getting passing grades, we should expect snow in the summer. Then, if Ouran students start getting failing grades, we should expect the rain to fall in reverse."
"You're not going to fail because of one less-than-satisfying grade."
Kosuke doesn't reply.
Kyoya tips his head at her. "What is your overall grade?"
"Not much higher." This time she doesn't even let him respond. "I may not be down here—" She holds her hand a little above the floor. "—but I'm supposed to be up here—" She raises her hand above her head. "Right now, I'm here." She holds her hand at navel level.
He can think of several things to say—that she still has time, that it is still a 'good' grade—but he knows that would be deliberately missing the point. He gets it. This is Ouran University, and she's going to be owning a major medical company one day. She might as well have failed.
And frankly, if Kyoya had ever gotten a 72, his father would have probably thrown him to the streets.
"It's…" Kosuke shakes her head. "I'll get better, it's just frustrating, that's all."
Maybe a few months ago, he'd have given a few short words of comfort and leave it at that. And maybe when they'd just met he would have been angry at her for not getting it together and realizing that what she does reflects on him, and so on, so forth, all that drivel he'd gone on about.
Now, though, Kyoya has to admit that seeing her so upset makes it incredibly hard for him not to do something. Time has to be sacrificed for friendship, he supposes.
"Do you know exactly what you're struggling with?"
She's obviously about to brush it off again, but he gives her a look. "I…don't know. Looks like I got a little bit of everything wrong."
He runs some numbers in his head. If he stays up a few hours later tonight, maybe rise a little earlier in the morning, then he can cover tomorrow's work. Plus, if he explains to his father that he's doing as he was told and spending more time with his fiancée…
"Do you study alone?"
"Yes. Speaking of…" Kosuke stands and pushes her chair back under the table. "I should get going so I can get some done before my next class."
"Maybe you would benefit from a study partner."
"Everyone here is getting busier and busier, Kyoya. I'm not about to ask someone to take time out of their day to help me get my grades up."
He takes a second to close his eyes and tilt his head back. That makes two blondes he knows who can turn a ten second conversation into a thirty-minute one.
"Your last class ends at around two tomorrow, if I remember correctly. I'll come over at three. Just have all your notes ready."
"Come ov—?" Kyoya pushes his chair back and walks away, not sparing Kosuke a glance even as she scrambles after him. "Kyoya, don't. I'll figure it out, it's not that big of a deal—"
"I know it's not that big of a deal, which is why I offered in the first place."
She follows him all the way outside with probably a million retorts locked and loaded. Kyoya stops and turns, making her skid to a stop to not crash into him. Her stern look is impressive, but Kyoya's poker face has seen years of practice.
"I'm not asking for a 'thank you,'" he tells her. "Just an 'okay.' You didn't ask."
"I didn't tell you about it to whine, or guilt you into helping me."
"I know you didn't. Is that it?" She sputters for an answer, so he just turns and keeps walking. "Tomorrow at three. It's your own house, so you shouldn't be late."
She doesn't follow him after that. Though she never did agree, Kyoya gets no calls or messages from her for the rest of the evening. So that's that.
Kyoya had been hoping that twenty-four-plus hours would've been enough for Kosuke to come around. That hope is squashed when he walks over the threshold of the Amida mansion and sees her standing in front of the imperial staircase, arms crossed and foot tapping. She gives a quick thank-you to the attendee who opened the door for Kyoya, but says nothing after.
In turn, Kyoya sweeps his eyes over the polished floors and marble pillars for a long, quiet stretch. "Is this where we'll be studying?"
"No." Her arms drop, and she turns for the staircase. Not angry. Just not happy. "Come on."
Their footsteps echo as they climb, and something about it feels off, even though Kyoya has been here before. It's a glorious mansion, as open and sleek and polished as any other Kyoya has been in. He's realizing now, though, that he'd considered the Suzuki household to be Kosuke's home, not this. He looks for cold cups of coffee and unfolded blankets when he knows he won't find any.
There are many doors on the second floor, but only one of them is open. Kyoya sees a sliver of curly hair and one watching eye, and then it shuts.
If Kosuke notices, Kyoya doesn't want her to be distracted by any other stressors, so he asks, "Is Mr. Amida here today?"
"No. He hardly ever is; if he's not traveling, he has other places he likes to stay at."
Her tone is oddly pleased, but Kyoya doesn't question it. She finally pushes a door open, and leads Kyoya into a lounge room. It's simple, probably the only cozy place in the mansion—the sunlight coming through the window is so bright she doesn't have to turn the light on. A good studying place, Kyoya thinks.
There are two sofas divided by a mahogany table, on which Kosuke has spread an array of papers and pencils. She sits on one side and Kyoya sits on the other.
"Do you have a preferred starting point?" Kyoya picks up a random sheet and looks over the notes. They're very organized, though Kyoya's never been one for neon highlighters. "You said you needed help with everything."
"We can just—start where you want. It doesn't matter to me."
He lowers the sheet so he can look at her. He's never seen someone look so uncomfortable in their own house.
"We're here to help you study. I don't 'want' to start anywhere." He lets himself sigh just one time. "I'm already here. At this point, it'd be more of an inconvenience to me if I just turned around and left."
Now it's her turn to tilt her head back and close her eyes. It's not Kyoya's goal to make her uncomfortable, but he doesn't understand why this is harder than pulling teeth.
At last she lets out a long breath, picks up another random sheet, and gives it to him. "Let's just start here."
"Alright. If Company A and Company B are in proximity to each other and offer the same services or products to their customers, how are they in competition with one another?"
Kosuke's mouth and the lounge door open at the same time.
Hitsuji toddles into the room with a smiling robot in hand and a lollipop in his mouth. He takes the sweet out with a pop and uses it to wave. "Hi, Kyoya."
"Hello, Hitsuji."
Hitsuji squints at the papers on the table. They probably look like some alien language. "What're you guys doing?"
"School stuff, remember?" Kosuke waves her hand at him. "What do you need, buddy?"
He holds up the robot to her. "It won't turn on."
Kyoya waits patiently while Kosuke flips the robot over and opens the battery hatch. She laughs as she switches the double-A's. "Remember the flat side goes against the springy thing." She presses a button, and the robot beep-bwoops. "There you go."
"Thank you." Hitsuji leaves just as soon as he came.
"Sorry about that. What was the question again?" He repeats it. After much furrowed-brow deliberation, she answers (without any confidence), "Location?"
"Substitution. You have the right idea, but location can be a problem to a business for several reasons, like if their target demographic can't be found in the area. Substitution is specifically about similar services being available in the same area."
"Right. I should've known that."
"Next question. Because Company A and Company B offer the same services in the same area, each business should acquire and advertise a unique benefit to their respective services. This would be an example of what?"
The door opens again, but this time all Kyoya sees is a hand on the knob.
"Hey," Kosuke greets. "What is it?"
"I can't find my crayons."
Kosuke hesitates. "They're not in the toy cabinet?" Apparently Minami shakes her head, because Kosuke stands to her feet. "I'm sorry, Kyoya, this will just take a second."
It really doesn't take long at all, maybe two minutes, but it's got Kyoya thinking. If this is what it's like when he's here…
When Kosuke returns, it's with an awkward chuckle. "Fell under the bed. Should've figured. What was the question again?" He repeats it. "Right…Differentiation?"
"Focused differentiation."
"Focused. Okay."
"In order to determine which services are most desired in a given area, and the demographics found in said area, a business should—"
The door opens.
"Hi," says Hitsuji.
"Hi," says Kosuke. "What is it?"
"I forgot."
"Oh. Want to come back when you remember?"
"Okay."
"Okay."
The door closes.
"You were saying?"
Instead of continuing, Kyoya gives her a long, searching look. "Is this usually what happens when you're studying?"
"What do you mean?"
"The children interrupting," he explains, and quickly adds, "That's not to say that they're doing anything wrong, but it seems like it would be difficult to focus if they're regularly distracting you."
Judging by her expression, she already knew this but didn't want to. "Well…We only get to see each other so much. Plus, I can't just not be available."
"So be available. An hour or so to study seems reasonable."
"Yeah, but…" She shrugs. "I don't want to hurt their feelings by shooing them away."
The door opens a fourth time, and Hitsuji swings by the knob. "I remembered! Can we play Hide and Seek?"
This time Kyoya trusts Kosuke to draw the line in the sand, but still gestures for her to stay seated. Now it's him who walks to the door, and in doing so sees that Minami was included in that 'we.' She gives him her typical stony regard, but Hitsuji just bounces on his heels while he looks up at him.
"D'you wanna play Hide and Seek with us?" he asks.
"I'm going to have to pass. There's something I need to ask you two to do." They wait, so he goes on, "Kosuke has some schoolwork that she needs to finish. She should be done in about an hour. Do you think, until then, that you could only come here if you really need something? Then she can play with you later."
He takes that Minami's mumble is only because it's him. Hitsuji, in contrast, gives a very upbeat "Okay!" and toddles off once again.
He returns to his seat. Kosuke is staring down into her lap, lips pursed.
"Point taken."
For the next hour, they're only interrupted twice more—once when Minami has a papercut that needs a bandage, and again at the fifty-minute mark, when Hitsuji comes to ask if they're done yet. The latter time Kosuke promises to tell him when they're finished, and reminds him not to come back unless necessary.
Kyoya had forgotten what it was like to be a child, needy for both care and attention at all times. Coupled with what she'd said about hurting when they do, he thinks, it's no wonder she can hardly study when she gets home.
She gets better as they continue, though. Kyoya returns to a few questions, and she gets most of them right. By the end of the hour, they've gone through several sheets of notes.
Kosuke starts stacking the papers and collecting her clips. "I definitely understand more now. Thank you for helping me, but I think I've got it from here."
Kyoya looks to the binder pushed to the side, still packed with pages and pages. "When is your next test?"
"Six days from now. My professor said the last one was more for practice than anything, so this one is the 'real deal.' That would be six hours of study if I do an hour every day. Maybe more if I do some on the weekend—"
"When does your class end tomorrow?"
"Hm? Uh—Three."
"Then I'll be here at four."
"Wh—Hey, no." Kyoya just picks up his bag, which he knows is a touch condescending—proven right when Kosuke puts her hands on her hips. "We're not making this a regular thing!"
"Fine. I'll just help until the test comes, then you should learn some studying tricks for the future. Is that a fair deal?"
He swears he could scream watching her jaw work from side to side. Why won't she just let him help—?
"Fine. Four o'clock tomorrow."
Kyoya nods in gratitude, which she rolls her eyes at. "Four o'clock tomorrow."
The next day, Kosuke leads him to the dining room instead. The children have set up a fort in the lounge. "Us being in there reminded them that there was still a room they hadn't set up a castle in yet," Kosuke explains.
Kyoya surprises himself by chuckling. It reminds him of the tents he and his siblings would make when they were younger, stretching blankets to make canopies and using table legs for pillars. It'd always been great fun, but it had stopped once Kyoya had turned eight. Yoshio said there was "no excuse anymore" and demanded the children to "entertain themselves more maturely."
They begin the session by recapping what they covered yesterday; Kosuke gets all but one question right, so they both agree that they can move on.
"Before we do," says Kyoya, "There was something I wanted to suggest. A method of learning that I've used before to study."
"What is it?"
"Let's start with the first question. When you market your business by having one-on-one conversations with prospective customers, that is what?"
"C…Cr…Oh, it's on the tip of my tongue…"
"Conversational marketing." Kyoya taps his chin as he figures out the words. "Conversational marketing convinces customers with confidential conversations."
The baffled blinks that he gets in response almost makes him embarrassed.
Then Kosuke sinks in her seat. "Am I really so bad I have to start using nursery rhymes to remember things?"
"Those weren't rhymes, that was alliter—"
"Don't."
"As I said, that was a technique I used to study."
"When you were how many years old?"
Started when I was five, when my mother taught me how to do it. Stopped when I was eleven, when my father found out and demanded I stop. "I don't think that's relevant."
"You know what? Fine. If it works, it works. Give me another type of marketing?"
He looks down the page. "Marketing that uses platforms with the highest outreach, such as television or radio, in order to generate a widespread response is an example of…?"
"Buzz marketing?"
"Correct."
"So…Buzz marketing makes people buzz by boasting all over the big blue worl—Oh my god, this is humiliating."
"It's working."
"Well, if I'm using it, I'm not sharing what I come up with."
"Mm…No." Kosuke boggles at him, but he doesn't flinch. "I've just decided that this is going to be my service fee."
"I didn't even ask—"
"Marketing that entices customers to partake in services exclusive to a given area is an example of…"
If looks could kill. "Proximity marketing."
"Correct."
Then he waits.
"Proximity marketing promises pluses to people in the local population."
"See?" He says, as if she isn't growling like an angry wolf. "Keep that up and you'll have it all committed to memory in no time at all. Now, moving on…"
The embarrassment fades as they continue. When Kyoya returns to old questions, Kosuke is definitely preening when she gets them right—boasting that "field marketing finds fellows that aren't far to flounce offers to" as if she'd won some kind of game against him.
It makes something positive stir Kyoya's chest, but it isn't vindication (condescending) or relief (this isn't a burden to him). Pride, he thinks. He's probably proud of her progress—Oh, no. Now he can't stop doing it.
"That is that." Kyoya sets the last sheet aside and checks his wristwatch. "We still have ten minutes if you want to keep going."
"Yes! I mean—Yes, please. If you don't mind."
Kyoya flips open the binder, but pauses once he sees what's inside. Maybe she's just trying to find real-world applications?
"What is it?"
He shakes his head. "Nothing. Just a moment." He scans through the words and numbers until he finally thinks of a question. "Amida Health marketing by providing statistics that prove that customers are more satisfied with their products than that of products from other medical companies is an example of what?"
He gets silence instead of another alliterative verse. Kosuke reaches over and tilts the binder in her direction, then pulls it away entirely—all while giving a grave-deep sigh.
"I'm sorry, I must have grabbed the wrong binder."
"That seemed relevant."
"This isn't for school notes, it's…my notes. About Amida Health and Ootori Medical—everything I need to know for when I—When we—You know. Anyway. Here."
She slides another highlighter-covered paper over to him, but Kyoya doesn't take it so quickly. "We can study that, too, if you want."
"No. I'm not going to be tested on that in five days, and I've got time. Also, that's all facts and figures I have to figure out for myself, not concepts and ideas, you know?"
Kyoya nods, because he does understand. Learning the different types of marketing strategies is not the same thing as memorizing the sales history of one specific company. Really, he should be happy that she's trying to learn so much, but it's guilt that he feels instead. He thought that he had his plate full…
"Maybe," he offers, "what we cover will help with that, too. You may at least learn some methods to remember."
"That would be nice. But let's focus on this for now."
They only get a paragraph into the next sheet when the hour ends, and Kosuke insists that he leave, refusing to take up any more of his time. She doesn't protest his promise to return tomorrow, however.
The children's rule spreads to the dining room the next day, as expected, but this time Kosuke doesn't even lead him to a room. The staff member who opens the door for him takes him all the way through the mansion to the back patio. It's probably the warmest day that November will see, just enough to sit comfortably in a sleeved shirt. Even so, the topiary garden is a world of lush green. Angels guard the path into the maze, and before them sprawls a long pond peppered with lily pads.
The patio itself could host an army, but it's only Kosuke at a single table, setting out saucers and teacups. She waves Kyoya over, as though she could have been missed.
"If you're going to be here, you're going to have to eat," she declares. "Three o'clock is the designated snack time in this household."
Kyoya just sets his bag down at one of the two chairs. "If you insist."
"I don't insist, I demand." Instead of sheets, she's only brought one thick binder—in case of the wind, probably. However, upon giving it a cursory look, Kosuke double-takes and sighs. "Oh, shoot."
"Something wrong?"
"I grabbed the wrong binder. This is for Accounting." She looks between the binder and the empty saucers, deliberating. "This might take a minute. I'm going to have to go up and get the right one, then come back and get the food out."
"I can go get it, if you want."
"Hm? Oh, no, don't worry about it. It's in my bedroom."
"If you'd rather I not go in there, I won't, but I don't mind."
She taps her foot a few times. "Mm…Alright." She hands him the wrong binder. "It'll be the blue one. It should be on my desk. Go upstairs, go left, and my bedroom is the first door on the right."
He follows her directions, but once he opens the door, he second-guesses himself. It doesn't look like what he'd think Kosuke's bedroom would. He'd imagined something…warmer? The gold and silver, the satin and silk, it's all luxurious, but it doesn't feel lived-in. It feels more like a hotel room, not belonging to anyone.
Gradually he spots some signs: a pair of shoes tucked under the bed, clothes through the sliver of the closet door, painted rocks on the windowsill. The Cuisine of South America sits bookmarked on the window seat. There are framed photos of a twelve-year-old Kosuke holding a newborn Minami, Hitsuji on his first day of school.
There's a massive blue binder sitting on the bed, and Kyoya doesn't think twice before he walks over to it. Kosuke had said the binder was only probably on the desk.
That he can pick it up at all is a wonder. She took this many notes in one semester that hasn't even finished yet? Kyoya probably took this many notes throughout the entirety of high school. It's a miracle it doesn't shatter the bed!
He flips open the cover, wondering, What on earth is in here?
His confusion only triples when he sees the first page. It's a floor plan drawn out on a grid. There are labels like Kitchen and Dining Room, and a calculation in the corner for "max capacity."
Obviously this is the wrong binder. But Kyoya's curiosity has been piqued, so he flips forward a random number of pages. Now he's looking at photographs of dining rooms—some landscapes of gold and velvet, others flowers and wood. Then there are pictures of centerpieces, and pictures of plates. Pages of statistics—the average restaurant's busiest time of year, what food is most likely to be ordered under what circumstances, demographics in given areas of Japan. There are more floor plans, too, and countless menus of different cuisines and different numbers of courses.
At the very back, there's a list of flowers. Daisy, Camellia, Violet…One or two have been crossed out. It's obvious which Kosuke settled on, because afterwards Kyoya sees nothing but The Rose Bowl over and over and over. There are pages dedicated to just those words, written in block letters or elegant swoops, some with rose petals or whole blossoms among the letters.
Kyoya didn't look through the whole thing, but he thinks he might as well have. Finally he does what he was supposed to do: he goes to the desk on the other side of the bed and picks up the blue binder with Business Management on the spine.
He can't deny the guilt in his stomach as he closes the door behind him. He'd invaded Kosuke's privacy, and didn't have an excuse. More than guilty, though, he's confused.
Didn't she specifically say that she didn't want to own a restaurant one day? He thinks as he descends the stairs. She'd said something about not doing the thing you love as a job, but then why have hundreds of pages dedicated to just that?
Kosuke is sitting patiently with her hands in her lap when he returns. "Hey. Did you get lost?"
"It fell behind your desk," he lies easily. Probably too easily. "It took me a second to find it."
"Oh. Well, thank you. Now come on." She pats the open seat beside her, then picks up his saucer for him. "Time for some brain food."
She gives him one of two onigiri and a few slices of atsuage, then pours his tea for him. He thanks her, not just for the obvious, but for more time to consider if he wants to ask or not. Outright admitting that he stuck his nose into something personal of hers won't go over well, but the curiosity has dug deep roots into his brain.
"Is it good?"
"Very good."
"Good. It's been a while since I made atsuage. Did you know that tofu was first made in China? It didn't come to Japan until the early 700s. Douhua also has a lot of different forms in several cuisines. In the Philippines, it's served with sweet syrup and called taho, and in Indonesia it's served with ginger and called Kembang tahu. Javanese cuisine also uses fermented soybean to make tempeh. It's a lot like tofu but it has a nuttier taste to it."
Kyoya nods along to be polite—and it is somewhat interesting, he'll admit—but her excited rambling brings a question to his mind. "I'd like to ask you something."
"Yes?"
"To be clear, I'm not intending to be rude." She nods. "Why is it that you remember things like that so easily, but struggle with your studies?"
Thankfully, instead of looking wounded, she takes on a pensive look and taps her chopsticks quietly on her saucer.
"Passion, I guess? I'm already really interested in cuisine, so learning things related to it doesn't feel like work to me." She startles and waves her chopstick-holding hand at him. "Not that I'm not passionate about my studies! I want to be the best head of Amida Health that I can be!"
Clearly that's not the case, but Kyoya doesn't know what to say.
It's not that he never believed her when she promised that she would be ready when it was time to succeed her father, or that she would be a worthy business partner. Still, he couldn't not note that the fire that lit her eyes when she was in the kitchen just wasn't there when she looked at all her notes on Amida Health and Ootori Medical.
This would not be the first time Kyoya has heard of someone not being eager to inherit the family business. He's seen it plenty with his fellow classmates. Some branch off on their own ventures, and others come around to the idea. Perhaps others still take on the responsibility without coming around, but Kyoya had never considered the idea before, not as someone who had been trying to prove himself as a worthy contribution to the Ootori name for years.
Logically he knows he can't tell Kosuke to "follow her dreams" and not inherit Amida Health. Her heirdom is why the two of them got engaged in the first place—without it, Kyoya wouldn't even be sitting here.
So if it's logical for him not to do that, then it's illogical for him to want to do that. It must be.
That is probably what a friend would do; when you care for someone, you want them to be happy and at peace. However, before they were friends, they were fiancés, and before they were fiancés they were business transactions.
This is why, when a solution comes to Kyoya's mind, it is only halfway satisfying to him. "Maybe if you relate business management to your interests, it'll be easier to study?"
Kosuke, who had been poking at her last slice of atsuage, looks up at him. "What do you mean?"
"Perhaps it would be easier to remember marketing strategies and business models if you imagined them as what, say, a restaurant might do."
Kosuke sets her saucer down and sits straighter in her seat. "I'm open to trying."
"Let's see…" Kyoya opens the binder to her notes. "Let's say that a new café opened in a city. There's only one other café in the city, but after a few years, the owners of the new café buy out the old café for a secondary location. Because these two cafés are the only ones in the city, the owners now have a what?"
"A monopoly."
"Right. Next scenario—a ramen restaurant offers a deal in which for every ten bowls of ramen that a customer buys, they get one for free. This is…?"
"Loyalty advertising!"
"Right again. Third scenario: a restaurant offers sandwiches, fries, and drinks with their own respective prices. However, they also sell combo meals that include all three, and buying the combo meals is cheaper than buying each item individually. This is—"
"Bundling!"
"I think you've found another trick, then."
"Let's keep going," she insists, practically bouncing in her seat. "I want to see if I can keep this up!"
She does, with flying colors. They only run into one issue—Kyoya comes up with a scenario in which a seafood restaurant makes deals with local lobster suppliers to be the only restaurant in the area able to serve lobster, asks what kind of marketing that would be, and Kosuke thoroughly humiliates him by answering, "Illegal?" He pretends that that was the answer he was looking for, instead of confessing that he forgot how basic business law works.
This hour goes by faster than the others. In no time at all Kosuke is stacking their dishes while Kyoya rearranges the notes back into the binder. One last time he considers confessing to discovering "The Rose Bowl." He decides against it.
This time, when he pulls his bag over his shoulder, Kosuke says, "I think that covers everything. I'll study it all over the weekend, and then Monday I can do some refreshing."
"I can come Monday, too. I said I would until the test."
"If you want. Same time?"
Thankfully she's too busy stacking their tea saucers to notice the somewhat smug smile threatening to come on his face. He coughs it off. "Same time."
Their "refresher" session Monday ends up being pointless, since Kosuke gets all but one question wrong.
It was a trick question, to be fair—they'd been going over business models, and Kyoya had brought his chess set to demonstrate positions with the pieces. Even with the visual, and another restaurant metaphor, Kosuke had thought it over a long five minutes before finally giving up. Her response to the answer "Ponzi scheme" was denying Kyoya the last onigiri on the plate.
Otherwise her answers are quick, sure, and even excited. Kyoya almost wishes she would tell him what's going on in her head every time she pauses. Maybe, when he mentions a hypothetical restaurant, she imagines The Rose Bowl. The idea is as satisfying as it is saddening.
When Kyoya leaves this last time, he's fully expecting not to see her until after the test is taken with much confidence. He is wrong on both accounts—early on the day of reckoning, he spots her sitting on a bench in a courtyard. It's certainly too cool now to do so, but the library is a distance away and her class begins in just fifteen minutes, if he remembers. Besides, judging by her furrowed brow and bouncing foot, the temperature is the last thing on her mind.
His class begins shortly, too, but he sacrifices a few moments to walk over to her. "Please tell me you're not nervous."
She jumps so hard her papers almost go flying. "I told you to stop scaring me like that!"
"You should get close to a perfect score by now." She looks away from him, and he backtracks. "I mean that as reassurance, not an expectation."
"I know." She tugs at the sleeve of her sweater. "I'm just a worrywart, if you hadn't noticed. If I don't do better—or if I do worse—then I'm not sure if I'll have any more chances to get my overall grade up."
"You've answered every question I gave you correctly. The only ways I can imagine you failing this test is if it's written in another language, or if you hit your head and get amnesia on the way to class."
"Thanks for giving me more things to worry about," she jokes. Probably. She tucks her notes into her satchel and pulls the strap over her shoulder. "I'm going to go ahead and give a preliminary 'sorry' in case this doesn't turn out so well."
The jest is obviously fake; a painfully obvious attempt to hide just how wracked her nerves are. The last thing he says to her before she goes is, "You're going to do fine," which he knows falls on deaf ears. But then she's gone.
Afterwards, something as rare as a blue moon happens: Kyoya struggles to pay attention in class.
Now, that's not a problem, because Kyoya has always been a step ahead in every class, but he never wants to decide to stop trying for fear of a slippery slope. It just seems that he is incapable of transcribing the teacher's words when he knows that Kosuke is still worried, still panicking. He can't get the image out of his head of her fingers trembling on her pencil, or her foot bouncing like a jackhammer on the floor.
He doesn't understand this paradox—knowing she'll do great but also worrying for her.
Kyoya's class ends just ten minutes before Kosuke's. Usually this is when he goes to the library to get work time in before lunch, his next class, and finally his actual job.
Not today. Today Kyoya walks back to the courtyard nearest to Kosuke's classroom, sits on a bench, and waits.
There's the first outpour of students, then a trickle, then the stragglers. Kosuke is one of the last to leave, looking thoroughly exhausted and not exactly hopeful.
She falters in her steps when she sees him, and startles when the professor leaves just after her. She waits until he turns the corner to double back, turn the doorknob, and—with one last pause—beckon Kyoya over.
Once he's inside, she shuts the door behind him, the sound sharp in the stillness of the classroom. Kosuke does a quick survey just to be sure they're alone. Then, at last, she reaches into her satchel and pulls out her answer sheet—but refusing to look at the front.
"You look and tell me," she says.
He keeps any snide comments to himself. That'd be cruel, even for him. He takes the sheet and flips it over without protest.
"Here."
He holds it up to her, but she squeezes her eyes shut, protesting, "No, just tell me!"
"Would you just look?"
She cracks an eye open.
Circled at the top of the page, in the same red ink as before, is 94.
Kyoya could laugh at how she snatches the paper from him to boggle at it. She even flips it over to the blank side.
"I got a ninety-four?"
"You did."
"That's—a good grade."
"That's a very good grade. Congratulations."
Kyoya can see how her eyes go between the 9 and 4 several times before she finally comprehends that they go together. "I got a ninety-four."
He purses his lips, unsure if it's to keep from laughing or sighing. "Yes, Kosuke. You did very well. Good job."
"I got a ninety-four…" Then she actually bounces, literally bounces up and down like an excited child, and the smile on her face could blind the sun. "I got a ninety-four!"
This time Kyoya decides to just let her ride out the jubilee. That same pride that he'd felt when they studied returns, but at full force. He is really, truly happy for her, for just this one small accomplishment. He doesn't know why, but he's starting to think he should stop asking. He already knows feelings are illogical; that isn't always a bad thing.
When it seems that the euphoria is starting to wear off, Kyoya opens his mouth to give one last congratulations and then dismiss himself.
But then she—
Hugs him.
So suddenly he could have never seen it coming. So strongly it knocks the words out of his mouth.
In that moment, Kyoya is completely and utterly stunned.
It's not just the touching, though that is very much not helping. With how long he's known Tamaki, he should be used to getting hugged out of nowhere by now. With an older sister like Fuyumi and a mother like Jin, there is no reason for physical contact to shock him.
Yet here he is, with Kosuke's arms wrapped around his middle, her head pressed into his chest, close enough to feel the warmth of her body and the fruity scent in her hair, and he has turned into a deer in headlights.
It's also the fact that he doesn't hate it. He's not pushing her off, not even sighing or groaning or wishing for her to be done with it already. He can even say he's touched, that she's so happy she just couldn't stop herself from embracing him. And that is very unlike him, and he can't figure out why she's the exception.
There are also ten thousand other thoughts, like I've known Haruhi for years longer and we've never hugged once, and But I guess I really don't mind, and Is she going to do this more often now, and Does she really like me that much or am I just the only person here TO hug, and Do I want it to be that she really likes me that much, and I can't believe we started off hating each other, and Remember when we couldn't even make small talk, and Has she always had that strong peach smell to her, and Is that her heartbeat or mine, and This is new.
So his brain short-circuits, and (needless to say) he doesn't hug her back. That's why, when Kosuke reels back from him a few moments later, there's no resistance.
She doesn't have the expression of someone who just got out of a celebration hug. She looks nothing short of horrified.
"I—" She takes another step back. "I—I…I have…another class to get to. I'll see you later."
She grabs her bag, the graded answer sheet, and ducks out the door.
It opens again a second later.
"I am very sorry that I did that."
Then the door closes again. Through the glass, Kyoya watches as she all but runs away, face buried in her hands.
Leaving Kyoya alone in the classroom to wonder, What just happened?