infinityneverlasts: mmmmmmmmmmmmnocomment
bored411: So way back when Shigeo and Kosuke first met and Kosuke didn't yet know what Shigeo's intentions were, Tamaki was aware that her estranged father had come back into her life. He was incredibly suspicious of Shigeo from the get-go because he, like Kosuke, had no idea why Shigeo had not been involved in her life until that point. The suspiciousness has decreased now that Kosuke has repeatedly said that she trusts Shigeo, but he's still never met him before. Hope that clarifies Tamaki's behavior!
Wishfulhamadryad: Thank you! :)
bbymojo: Thank you so much!
Ale250496: Thanks!
Gilmore: No spoilers but now that Kyoya's come to terms with his (lack of) feelings for Tamaki and Haruhi, the romance is going to pick up in speed very soon!
Nana-san14: Thank YOU!
Mili San Luis: I really love writing Kyoya's internal thoughts. Thanks!
Nina9802: lol Thank you!
argenteusvipera: So to explain why Tamaki is suspicious of Shigeo, see my reply to bored411. I will also add, though, that NO ONE else knows about the loan shark. Tamaki would have literally gone on a manhunt if he knew lol. And I can't say any spoilers about Kohta, buuuuut yes, he's not quite finished in this story, and you will see that relevance not too far off. Thanks so much!
Alnitak8: Thanks!
Ouran shares few things with the average school, but here's one: the final weeks of the school year are a frenzy.
Students study and sweat for their finals, map out their schedules for next semester, and—most importantly—plan on how they will celebrate the year's end. With just a month until the next year begins, it seems everyone is trying to pack every day to the fullest. From what Kosuke hears, many plan to be on one side of the world one week and the other side the next. People talk about going to Rome and Peru the way they talk about what they're eating for dinner.
It all makes Kosuke a bit relieved to be spared the responsibility Rika, Yoshiko, and Benjiro bear.
But she's also a bit jealous. Just—a little bit.
"I'm just asking because I want to be prepared for anything! What if the gas goes out? Or doesn't come on at all?"
Chef Matsuhisa blinks very slowly at Benjiro as he rambles and rambles, until at last she must hold up her hand to stop him. "In all the years that I've watched this competition, I could count on my fingers the number of times a technical mishap has occurred. Each time, the competitors have been accommodated accordingly. I suggest you get this anxiety under control, lest you oversalt the food with your dripping sweat."
All students bow and bark, "Yes, Chef!" Even if they weren't even glanced at.
"Your menu is impressive and your skills got you these positions in the first place. I suggest the lot of you get some rest."
"Yes, Chef!" They chorus again. Chef Matsuhisa turns away before they are even upright again. No more questions.
Benjiro takes deep breaths, and Kosuke pats his shoulder. He has beads along his hairline. "You guys are going to do great. I know it."
"I'm not worried about the cooking," Rika says as she picks her bookbag up from the floor. "I'm worried about the cameras. Just imagine you make a delicious dish, but the only thing anyone remembers you for is tripping over your feet, or forgetting to turn the oven on!"
"When was it? Five, six years ago? Guy chopped his finger off." Yoshiko shakes her head, looking ill. "And now he's 'the guy that chopped his finger off.'"
She is referring to Heston Oliver, student of the Culinary Institute of Bristol, age twenty. The young chef was set to prepare a beautiful shepherd's pie. Everyone had marveled at how Oliver moved through the kitchen the way a ballerina moves across a stage—until he didn't. No, he did not chop his finger off, but he chopped the tip of his finger off while dicing an onion. By the time his finger was bandaged and his station cleared of blood, Oliver lost five precious minutes of time. It completely threw him off his balance, and he stumbled through the rest of his dicing. The pie came out with a beautiful golden crisp but also chunks of half-chopped onions and bits of the peel and—worst of all—the root. Out of a possible 50 points, Oliver's dish won a total of 13, consensus being that it was nicely seasoned but borderline inedible, with the chef who got the bite of root giving him a very, very rare score of one out of ten, utterly damning the rest of his team to failure.
Kosuke has this encyclopedic knowledge because once she discovered what the Rising Chef Competition was, she had binged every recording she could get her hands on in just a week.
The Rising Chef Competition is an intense war between the most outstanding culinary students across twenty different countries. Broadcast numbers reach into the millions on the national level and the billions for the international level. For the national level, students from the country's five best institutes battle it out to see who will win the honor of representing their homeland at the international level, which occurs roughly a month later. It takes place in the previous year's winning country, with the twenty teams battling one-on-one until two remain.
Victory includes $300,000 for each member of the winning team, a donation of $1,000,000 to their respective institute, a trophy usually taller than the tallest winner, and of course, lifelong fame. That's to say nothing of the countless opportunities such a victory entails. Many champions have gone on to apprentice word-renowned chefs. It's impossible to count how many cookbooks have been printed with a from the Rising Chef Winner! title. Some have even gone on to host their own cooking shows.
Even if Kosuke had gone to Seneca, its culinary program never had a place in the Japanese competition. Rising Chef had been as out of reach as the moon. She dreamed of hoisting up that trophy atop a gilded stage and awoke to the sound of her alarm ringing through her small bedroom.
Because of the hailstorm of change that happened a little over a year ago, when Kosuke's brain was constantly on the verge of bursting, it had taken two weeks of classes for Kosuke to remember that Ouran was a regular competitor. In the 25-year history of Rising Chef, it had secured seven national victories and two international. It really should not have taken her two weeks—for crying out loud, she passes the trophies in the display case every single day—but it did. She had to be invited to travel to Mumbai for the international competition to remember. Which is so strange, now that she sees how giddy the school is getting just for the national competition. It's like she didn't notice a hurricane in the room.
Kosuke had been so busy, she had to spend three weeks lying that she'd watched the international competition from home before she actually sat down to do just that. When she realized that the moon had just come a heck of a lot closer, she was amazed. She could be standing in the same room as the people who would've stayed trapped behind a television screen if she'd gone to Seneca. No, she could even see the competition in person, cheering from the sidelines, getting to point at the people under the spotlights and saying, "I know them! I go to school with them!"
When someone had said, "Kosuke, you have to be in the next competition"?
She'd been dumbstruck.
Chef Matsuhisa had burst that bubble before it got the chance to grow, though. She strictly required her team members to have been in culinary courses for at least six semesters.
It was a disappointment, but more for the other students than Kosuke. It would literally be a dream come true, but she probably wasn't ready for a televised competition just yet. The idea of billions of eyes watching her every move set her stomach into a roil.
So for her to feel like that when she's not in the competition, she can only imagine what it must be like for the ones who are.
"No one is going to chop their hand off and no one is going to be humiliated," Kosuke tells them as they head out of the classroom. They are five bundles of nerves. Rika holds the strap of her bookbag like a vice and Haruto keeps shaking his fingers like they're dripping water. "You're going to ace this!"
"Did you ask Chef Matsuhisa about the drive?" Yoshiko asks. "I really don't see how it'd be a problem."
"No, I didn't ask if I could join the competitors in the ride over because I'm not a competitor."
"I know. But still. You're like our coach. I mean, besides Chef Matsuhisa."
She's not wrong. Since the team had been assembled, Kosuke has somehow or another been building them up for the big day, even sacrificing some precious study time. She didn't mean to, fully intent on staying in her lane, but they had dragged her back over and over. Every menu they'd come up with, they'd run it by her and Chef Matsuhisa both. She'd been to Rika's to practice cracking open sea urchins, and to Benjiro's to try millions of combinations for plating vegetables. Last week, everyone came over to the Amida mansion to practice their dishes from start to finish, with Hitsuji and Minami as the stand-in audience. Chef Matsuhisa herself had come, and Kosuke had to excuse herself to the other room for a moment to digest the fact that Chef Matsuhisa was in the same building where she slept.
"No, I'm like your friend who has been helping. Stop giving me credit. You guys have done amazing all by yourselves and you're going to do amazing at this competition. I'm proud of all of you."
Mostly.
"Of course we'll be amazing!" Not three steps out of the door, and here comes Amaya, with the air and elegance of a queen quieting her subjects. "I have never been more confident in a culinary team, and I've worked on many! In fact, back at Universitá Fontana, we would have regular competitions between our peers. I was the youngest student to ever—"
So, every team in the competition is composed of five students, one for each course. Generally, this means hors d'oeuvre, appetizer, salad, main course, and dessert (though it's not a set rule).Respectively, this will be Rika, Haruto, Benjiro, Yoshiko, and Amaya. This is a no-brainer, and another reason for Kosuke to be grateful that she couldn't compete this year.
While Amaya goes on telling them all about her victory streak—which, somehow, will culminate in a compliment of her teammates—Kosuke sneakily takes a glance at her wristwatch. Three…two…one…
"It really is such a shame that you won't be able to join us, Kosuke." Amaya shakes her head and tuts. "If only you had started your education sooner."
There it is. "I don't think it's a shame at all. I think this team is perfect."
"Well, I'm just keeping your seat warm for you." Haruto points down to his feet. "Just one more year, Kosuke, and you'll be where I am."
"Let's hope so," Amaya chirps with good-natured poison.
"This year, I'll be in the front row. And right now, I need to be in class. Try to get some rest tonight. I'll see you guys tomorrow!"
They give their farewells, and Kosuke so eagerly makes distance between herself and Amaya. The worst thing is, she would have picked Amaya, too. She actually hopes that if she can compete next year, it'll be with Amaya. But still. Amaya.
Throughout the rest of the day, Kosuke catches snippets of a million different summer plans. Beaches and mountains, cities and cabins. Tamaki will absolutely be going to France. The twins will be traveling to the Bahamas—one of many invitations she'd had to turn down in favor of finally spending time with the kids. Hani and Reiko would be visiting Romania, while Mori would stay and continue teaching classes. She was the only one without set plans. She had some daily ventures in mind, trips to zoos and parks and museums, but she'd too busy to schedule an adventure they could afford now.
Though, perhaps Kyoya has no plans, either. Work and work and work. And maybe getting his driver's license, he'd said, but that was all. Kosuke worries for him, and worries more because she doesn't even have time to tell him. Fuyumi had broken her vow of secrecy to him over lunch this past weekend, and said that according to the mansion staff, Kyoya had actually not come home for a day straight. He went to work, went to school, and went to work again, without ever touching his bed. Kosuke told herself that wasn't true, that Kyoya was at least smart enough to not let himself be run into an early grave.
She's being a little selfish, too, because after everything that had happened, she's eager to keep her promise and go back to the way things were. But for a week straight, her only interaction with Kyoya had been four checkup messages that had been answered hours later.
Kosuke asked if they were catching up on that fiscal work and if things would be getting easier soon, and he'd said Maybe. She held onto that hope, and the hope that maybe they could do something over this break, even if it was as small as grabbing a cup of coffee at the café.
She forces these worries out of her mind through the rest of her classes. At the day's end she makes the walk to get Minami from practice, catching a million more plans along the way.
The class ends just three seconds after she walks through the door. The students bow and disperse, and Minami makes her way over. Then and there, Kosuke knows that something is wrong—something that must be unrelated to practice, because Mori doesn't even catch her eye. Usually, practice just barely gets Minami going. Today, she slugs across the floor to Kosuke and keeps her head down.
Kosuke just barely gets out the wh of what's wrong when her phone vibrates in her pocket. She takes it out with the intention to silence it, to focus on Minami, but when she reads the caller ID she knows she can't: SHIGEO.
The last time she'd seen Shigeo, it was at the party. The last time she'd spoken to Shigeo, it was for him to let her know about the party. Before that, she had not seen or spoken to him in…what, months?
Goodness. The whole reason why she's here in the first place, and they were barely exchanging words. That was how much he was away: Kosuke could sometimes forget that he owned the very bed she slept in.
This is why she cannot hang up. Kosuke's come too close to forgetting that her—and Minami's and Hitsuji's—future lies in his hands
So it hurts, but she has to let Minami stay upset while she holds the phone to her ear. "Hello."
"Are you finished with school?"
"Yes, I'm headed back to the mansion now. I'll be there in just a minute if you're waiting—"
"Not today, for the semester."
"Oh. Not yet, no. Finals are next week."
"I trust your grades will be nothing but exemplary."
"Nothing but exemplary."
"I had intended to have this conversation in person, but it seems my schedule will keep that from happening any time soon."
She and Minami step into the limousine. Minami's head is so close to her chin already she barely has to duck. "What do we need to talk about?"
"Your performance thus far and your performance going forward."
"Academically?"
"All around."
Kosuke nods (even though he cannot see her). Another final exam. She'd had one year to prove that she could be worthy enough, formidable enough, to hold the title of his heiress. Honestly, Kosuke wasn't worried about flunking. Shigeo may say otherwise, but she knows he isn't letting her go anytime soon. Still, even if it's from him, she'd liked to know that she isn't drowning.
"Alright."
"Let me say that you haven't exceeded my expectations. In some ways you haven't even met them. Even when I had only the most barebones optimism for you, I never anticipated that I would have to apologize on your behalf to Thoki Maekawa for almost breaking his feet. Nor that I would have to explain why you couldn't tell a type of tea from a handbag. Nor why you rant about the history of bubblegum when no one asks."
Minami's presence is a good reminder to bite her tongue. "I understand."
"I cannot even count how many things I had hoped you would have ironed out by now but haven't. You don't need to thank servers for every small thing that they do. You need to stop going into detail about how much you're enjoying your classes when people only want to hear that they're going well. Above all, get control of your body already. All your tics and twitches make you look like an overcaffeinated child."
She thinks she tastes blood. "Alright."
"These are just some things that you will have to make up for going forward. Your trial period is over. The real work starts now. The next time I check in with you, or ask about you, I want to hear nothing but improvement."
She takes a deep breath, but slowly, so he doesn't hear it. "You will."
"There are some areas where you haven't been a complete disappointment. I will say, the knowledge you've gained in Amida Health and Ootori Medical is satisfactory. You've gotten a generally positive reception, though I'll warn you now that 'quaint' isn't always a compliment. Most of what everyone hears of you comes from their children at Ouran, and it seems you've made a respectable first impression, even if it mostly comes from those useless food classes, and not your worthwhile courses."
Kosuke has the sneaking suspicion that Shigeo doesn't even know how to crack an egg, but for the millionth time, she keeps that thought to herself.
"That said, a friendly disposition is often the beginning of a worthwhile partnership. So I suppose you can keep doing as you're doing, for the most part. Your social skills have improved, but people will keep seeing you as an outsider if you keep presenting yourself as one. Stop bringing up Karuizawa. The next time you think about talking about the pretty forest trails or the cute little shops in town, don't."
"I won't."
"If you continue making improvements at this rate, then by this time next year you should overall be respectable. At the very least, I shouldn't be reconsidering this decision on a daily basis."
Kosuke breathes again, this time in bittersweet relief. She's not drowning.
"I'll be back next month for a short time. We will continue this conversation then."
Then the call ends, and the relief gives way to apprehension.
Is this too easy?
A month, a check-in, and then back to this? Exchanging less than a hundred words over a year? She should've realized this ages ago. For as much as she made it out to be otherwise, Shigeo didn't have an iron grip on her. He was, dare she say, lenient.
Which is…good?
When was the last time he even said a word about Hitsuji and Minami? Kosuke thought he was going to be the bogeyman and he'd hardly spared them a glance.
Speaking of—Minami has finally lifted her face and is rolling and unrolling her obi. She always does that, at least.
"Hey." Minami looks up at her, fingers still moving. "Is something wrong?"
Minami shakes her head, letting a curl loose from her ponytail. "No."
"Are you sure? Nothing bad happened at school today?"
"No. Everything's okay."
Typically Kosuke would know this to be a lie, but not this time. It seems genuine, like she was upset about something but isn't any more. Surely Kosuke did that a few times when she was a child.
When they arrive back at the mansion, Minami goes straight to her room to continue her practice, as always, so Kosuke leaves it at that.
All questions of Shigeo vanish the very next day. The Eve of Rising Chef. Its buzz mixes with the buzz of summer. Many will be coming to root for their friends and classmates. Many others just enjoy the thrill of the competition. Kosuke walks through the chatter with the same jittery excitement as a true competitor. When she spots Benjiro and Yoshiko (and yes, Amaya) swarmed in a crowd of cheerleaders, it fills her heart with pride.
Also, Kosuke got herself a T-shirt. It says TEAM OURAN and the text is topped with a chef's toque. Yes, it is tacky. Yes, she will be wearing it tomorrow.
The competition is to begin at eleven in the morning. Kosuke—who has never felt luckier to have no classes on Friday—will travel not with the team, but with her fellow audience members. In less than twenty-four hours, the moon comes down to earth.
For tonight, though, something simple: like an army on the night before a battle, all of Chef Matsuhisa's students have been invited to her Tokyo restaurant for a rousing dinner. It's going to be casual, right after school, so that they can all get some proper sleep that evening. This Kosuke will accompany them to. When her class is over, Kosuke bolts to the rendezvous point. Haruto and Rika are already waiting.
Kosuke asks, still walking, "How are you feeling?"
They answer at the same time: "Terrified." "Excited!"
"Sounds about right. Now, here. I've got something for all of you."
She pulls two sachets out of her bag and hands them over. They ooh at the aroma before they even hold the sachets up to their noses. Inside, the dry leaves crackle. Sugimoto had helped her with these. Plucked from his own garden.
"Drink this before you go to bed tonight. It'll be the best night of sleep you'll ever have."
"Oh, thank goodness!" Haruto clutches his sachet to his heart. "Last night, I had a nightmare that we got to the competition and I didn't have a station whatsoever. I kept saying, 'Where do I work? I don't have a station!' And everyone just told me to figure it out."
"I didn't sleep at all." Yoshiko takes a deep breath of the tea and looks drowsy right there. "Thank you, Kosuke. You're the best."
Behind Kosuke, a dreadfully familiar voice trills, "The best at what?" Amaya, Rika, and Benjiro approach, the latter two sharing that terrified excitement, Amaya looking as poised as ever. Kosuke has already made a gameplan to ensure she does not sit next to her inside the limousine.
Kosuke reaches into her bag while Haruto explains, "Kosuke made some tea to help us sleep tonight. Isn't that great?"
Benjiro and Rika ooh and ahh their agreement, but when Amaya's sachet comes into her palms, she blinks. Yes, Kosuke made her some, too. Partially because she wants Amaya to be on her A-game tomorrow. Partially because she might want to be petty, but she doesn't want to look petty.
Amaya's smile picks up as she feels the leaves beneath her fingers. "Isn't that nice! Did you make this yourself? You know, I'm familiar with the craft! At my former institution, I noticed an alarming sleepiness among the students! Students fell asleep in class, dragged their feet in the halls, it was unacceptable! I couldn't bear to see it go on, and I knew I had to find a solution! I studied which teas provided the greatest sleep aid, and used that knowledge to create my own blend. At first I provided it to the students that seemed to be the most in need, but after that, the entire student body was taking them by the pounds! It worked so well, the school reported a dramatic increase in classroom performance!"
There's clearly so much more she wants to say, but the limousine pulls up on 'sleep aid,' and even Amaya realizes it's time to shut up and get going. Yoshiko does a little dance on her feet, and Haruto rolls his shoulders back—even though they're just going to dinner, but Kosuke gets it. It's so real already. She's vibrating with exhilaration.
So much so that she almost doesn't feel the phone in her pocket.
Kosuke stops and checks the ID. She doesn't recognize the number.
She hesitates. Benjiro climbs in, then Haruto. She has to see who it is, at least.
She steps away, and walks until she thinks she's out of earshot enough to answer, "Hello?"
"Hello. Is this Kosuke Amida?"
"Yes, this is her."
"This is Vice Principal Kiharu Ototake of Ouran Elementary. I'm calling you in regards to your younger sister, Minami."
It's not worry that comes first—not much, anyway. This isn't the first time the school has called about one of her siblings. In the past year, there have been three times in which they fell ill while at school and Kosuke was contacted at their request.
It was never the Vice Principal who called, however.
"Is something wrong?"
"Unfortunately, Minami is currently in Principal Yanagawa's office because of something she has done at school today. I'm contacting you to ask that you come to discuss her behavior. Your father is unavailable at the moment, and he instructed me to call you instead."
Behavior.
No school faculty has ever used that word for one of her siblings—not unless it waspreceded by good.
The Vice Principal asks, "Ma'am? Are you still there?"
Kosuke is processing, and it's taking too long. Minami has done something to land her in the Vice Principal's office. Nothing like this has ever happened before—not even when Emiko and Marti were alive, not even to her.
Behind her, Amaya calls out, "Kosuke? It's so unfortunate, I don't think there will be enough room for the six of us. I don't suppose you could find another means of getting there?"
Haruto and Rika protest that there should be plenty of room, and Kosuke just…really needs everyone to be quiet. She answers, giving herself a shove forward. "Yes, I—I will be there shortly. Thank you for contacting me."
The Vice Principal gives her goodbye and the call ends.
Kosuke turns back around. Amaya stands with one foot inside the limousine, patient, and Yoshiko is leaning out to watch her eagerly. That eagerness snaps to worry as Kosuke speed walks to the limousine, hands stiff at her side, something's wrong with one of the children, something is wrong with one of the children. Yoshiko asks, "What's wrong? What's going on?"
"Something's come up with my sister," she explains, too calmly, speaking to get her own thoughts in order. The others try to lean out, too, four faces of concern and confusion. "I have to go to the Elementary office right now. I'm sorry!"
They don't ask a single question. They just tell her to go, go, and she does, feeling the weight of their worry on her back as she charges in the opposite direction. She doesn't even spare Amaya a glance. If she catches a smug smirk on her face, that would be it.
Kosuke cuts through the campus in what she thinks is the right direction to the Elementary side of Ouran. It's a long walk, and along with even more summer break plans, she catches some stares as she goes. Some for her speed, some for her face, some for being Kosuke when the culinary students are all gone.
The main office of the elementary school does not look like one. Kosuke had only been in the office of her elementary school a handful of times, but she remembers flowers on top of the counters, cups of colored pens, a monkey-shaped clock with a tail for a pendulum. This office has no flowers, no pens, and obviously no monkeys. There are leather armchairs and mahogany tables, a ceiling that stretches up and up, and Kosuke imagines she'd be nerve-wracked sitting in here even if she wasn't in trouble.
She'd been speed-walking so fast, it takes her a minute to catch her breath, taking slow intakes, before she can tell the receptionist, "I'm Kosuke Amida. I'm here for my sister, Minami."
The receptionist stands to escort her, though the door of the Principal's office is only on the other side of the room. Inside, it is just the same. Two leather armchairs face a desk large enough to host King Arthur's men. Minami sits in one armchair, hands in her lap. She's so small; sitting with her back to the chair's, her feet don't touch the ground. Principal Yanagawa sits on the other side, with Vice Principal Ototake beside him. Kosuke recognizes their faces somehow. Maybe she'd seen their faculty photos. The other woman, however, Kosuke does not recognize at all. She's in a pencil skirt, but not the suit jacket the other two wear. Neither does she share their calm and professional faces; she is just on the precipice of anger, lips pursed but jaw relaxed.
"Miss Amida?" Principal Yanagawa asks, rising to his feet.
Kosuke bows deep, answers, "Yes, sir."
"I'm Principal Yanagawa, this is Vice Principal Ototake, who I believe you spoke with on the phone." Kosuke bows to her, as well, and the other woman, even when she is not introduced.
Then she looks down at Minami, who of course does not return it. She worries at the hem of her skirt, candy-pink, the exact opposite of her gi and obi. The clip that just barely holds her curls back from her face is losing power. Kosuke adjusts it, making those hiding eyes more visible.
Now Kosuke doesn't know what to do. Does she go ahead and start espousing apologies now, or does she wait until she knows what's going on? The question of what Emiko or Marti would do doesn't have an answer.
Vice Principal Ototake speaks, and Kosuke doesn't know if it's because she took too long to go first. "Miss Amida, the reason Minami is here right now is because earlier today, she—"
The other woman coughs. Vice Principal Ototake pauses, then continues, "Earlier today, she—"
Cough. Cough.
Vice Principal Ototake's eyes and lips close in unison. Without looking at the other woman, she raises her hand to her. "Miss Amida, this is Sensei Akuri. She would like to explain the situation to you."
Kosuke bows to Sensei Akuri again, and in turn Sensei Akuri clasps her hands in her lap and says, "Please follow me."
Principal Yanagawa goes with them, leaving Minami alone with Vice Principal Ototake, who takes the other leather seat. Judging by how she tilts her body towards Minami, they're going to do some talking of their own while Kosuke is gone. Kosuke hates to leave her, but she just doesn't know what else she's supposed to do.
Sensei Akuri leads them away a few halls, all of which are exactly like those of the University, with the same tile floors, marble pillars, and high ceilings. Not even a bulletin board in sight. At the old school—the one Kosuke had attended, then Minami; the one Hitsuji would have if they had stayed—the walls always had some decoration. At least a clock on the wall, but usually creations of the students, handprint leaves in autumn and paper snowflakes in winter.
Finally there's something like that, but it's not the same. Kosuke remembers the 'Art Wall,' the biggest bulletin board in the whole building, with never so much of a square inch of cork to be seen. All students had to do was ask a teacher to pin up a drawing or a painting or any other craft they had made, and there it would go. By the end of the semester, the pushpins were hardly enough to keep them all in place.
This Art Wall is literally a wall, a wall that stands upwards of twenty feet tall, just like all the others. Instead of scraps of construction paper, there are whole square canvases, from just above the floor to just below the ceiling. And no, these canvases do not have square-and-triangle houses, five-circle flowers, or oval pets. Most of them don't, anyway. Kosuke should've figured that Ouran children would already know their ways around watercolors, acrylic, oil…The extra-ridiculous part is that she can tell they're supposed to be those normal things. It's like their teachers said, "Oh, you want to paint your pet dog? Well, instead of an oval with stick-legs, let's do an abstract! Encapsulate the idea of your pet dog."
Kosuke's head goes up and down taking them all in, and Sensei Akuri explains, "This is our final project for our students. They've been told to portray what they will be doing over the summer, or what they are looking forward to next year."
She says more than that, something about how it was to be 'the culmination of all the artistic wisdom they have gained,' something or another that feels just a little too much for third-grade children. Each canvas has its own plaque, and Kosuke goes to the nearest one. It's two blue halves, the bottom darker and the top spotted with white. They are divided by hazy visages of reds and yellows. The whole thing looks like a faraway image, a painting that actually elicits a wistful reaction from Kosuke, until she sees the plaque. My Family is Going to Italy. Yuuto. Oil on canvas.
Sensei Akuri has stopped talking, and Kosuke nods, but that isn't what she wants. "Oh—How impressive! You've taught them all so well!"
Sensei Akuri nods, not appreciative so much as satiated. "My hope, and the hope of all those who participated, and even the hope of the other teachers, was that we would be able to walk this hall and appreciate another year gone by, another generation of bright young children on their way to an even brighter future."
She stops, and Kosuke and Principal Yanagawa do the same. The canvases go on and on and on until suddenly they do not. There is one spot, one empty spot, breaking the pattern.
"Minami," Sensei Akuri goes on, and Kosuke has to fight not to bristle at her tone, the way she clips out the name, Mi-NA-mi, "was one such student. She, like all of her classmates, was making swell progress. The pieces were to be done today. Some students finished sooner than others, and that was fine. However, yesterday, before she left, Minami requested that she start a new canvas."
She gives Kosuke another look, but Kosuke denies her a reaction this time.
"I, of course, told her that was out of the question. She had had adequate time to complete her canvas, and it was completely unreasonable to ask to start from the beginning with not even ten minutes left of class time to go. I informed her of this, and she instead asked if she could opt out of having her canvas displayed at all."
This time, when Kosuke does not gasp or clutch an invisible pearl necklace, Sensei Akuri's jaw tenses. Principal Yanagawa says nothing, but this time he coughs.
"I told Minami that if asking to create another canvas was not possible, then asking not to do a canvas at all was completely ridiculous. I was not going to allow her to refrain from participating in an endeavor that all of her classmates had taken the time and effort to contribute to! I was not going to allow her to waste not only her own time, but mine and that of her other teachers, who have to the best of our abilities taught her everything we could about artistic methodology, only for her to—"
Cough. Cough.
"In any case, I considered the matter settled…" She pauses, looks at Kosuke over her shoulder. Suspending the tension. "…until this morning. With it being such a lovely day outside, we decided to let the children enjoy it for a while. Then, as I was assembling my students, I realized that Minami was no longer there. I asked another student where she was, and he answered that she had gone back inside. When I returned to the classroom, I found her there, and I found what she had done."
Sensei Akuri whips around on her heel and marches through the nearest door, footsteps clacking furiously. She returns shortly, holding a canvas in hand, face-down. She bestows it upon Kosuke, her other arm already crossed over her chest.
Kosuke flips the canvas over and just sees black. Black, black, and more black. There's something buried beneath it all. A tiny spot of blue peeks out, drowning. The only shape in it all is at the top, along the upper ridge: fingerprints.
Kosuke swallows, trying to buy herself some time. What does she say?
Firstly, she bows.
"I am so, so sorry for Minami's behavior," she says while she's still facing the floor. "Disobeying you was incredibly disrespectful of her. I—"
"It's not about the disobedience!" Sensei Akuri pauses, second-guessing. Is it? She shakes her head. "She has ruined this project that her peers worked very hard on! All of the work they put into their pieces is going to be voided by this blank spot on the wall. Now, people will not see the countless hours our students have put into learning art. They will only see this spot and wonder at it!"
"Is it possible for her to make another canvas?"
"Absolutely not! She had her chance and she ruined it for herself. If I were to let her make another canvas, that would just be letting her get what she wants! Is that the message you want to give your sister, Miss Amida?"
Kosuke dips herself lower. Her hackles are still rising, but she has to get them down. Minami is her sister, so of course she's putting on the defenses. Sensei Akuri is right. Minami asked for something, was told no, and then snuck out of her teacher's sight to take matters into her own black-stained hands.
This is the slippery slope of parenting, Kosuke has learned. Maybe she doesn't see this as a big deal, but if she lets it go, then Minami may use that as justification when it is a big deal.
But this dilemma is nothing to Kosuke right now. What fills her mind like fog is that Minami did this, period. She went from her teachers never having an unkind word to say about her to being called to the Principal's office. She didn't just push back when she couldn't get another canvas, she ruined the one she already had—just to get back at her teacher, apparently.
That's angry. That's so not Minami.
"No, it isn't. I'm very sorry my sister has disrespected you like this."
Principal Yanagawa finally speaks up, holding his hands behind his back. "Sensei Akuri, thank you for taking the time to explain this situation. However, I believe Vice Principal Ototake and I can take it from here."
Sensei Akuri's lips pucker for a moment, as quick as a tic. Bitterly unsatisfied though she is, she bows to Principal Yanagawa and turns away, ducking back into that same classroom.
"Now, Miss Amida." As Principal Yanagawa turns to her, Kosuke holds the black side of the canvas towards her chest, as though to hide it. "First and foremost, Minami's behavior is very worrying, especially as a student who by all means has exhibited outstanding behavior in the past."
"Yes, sir."
"Minami will need to meet with our counselor to discuss why she did what she did. Such a sudden change in behavior would not be without reason, but we need to ensure that this does not happen again. I feel I must ask, do you perhaps have an explanation?"
Kosuke goes through her memories like a movie reel. Minami sleepily eating her breakfast, Minami jabbering about what Sensei Morinozuka taught her, she and Minami squeezed behind the curtains to hide as Hitsuji seeks. She'd only noticed something out of the norm yesterday, when Sensei Akuri told her she couldn't start her project over.
Other than that, nothing.
"No, sir, I'm afraid I do not."
Principal Yanagawa nods, sympathetically disappointed. "I'm certain that this will merely be a one-time event as soon as we discern why it happened."
Kosuke wants to ask how many times he's had to do this. The kids back in Karuizawa are just as young as the kids in these classrooms. Yet, these kids are learning about dining etiquette and ballroom dancing. They take classes in how to present themselves, so that they can be marveled for their stunning behavior.
She feels certain that an Ouran child has never done something like this. She feels certain that tonight, so many children will tell their parents about the girl who did something so bad she got sent to the Principal's office.
Kosuke instead asks, "What about punishment?"
"Though we are more primarily concerned about Minami than anything else, we don't tolerate such disobedience and disrespect. Sensei Akuri has already reprimanded her, but Minami will have to apologize to both Sensei Akuri and her classmates. Thankfully, this project was not official—that is, it was not for a grade. If it was, there would be more serious repercussions for what she did."
Kosuke nods, swallowing something sour. She should be thankful.
Principal Yanagawa beckons her back to the office. Kosuke glances back to that blank spot on the wall, and realizes that they'd left the gold plaque, naming an empty space.
I'm Going to Spend Time with My Family. Minami. Acrylic on canvas.
The four of them—Principal Yanagawa, Vice Principal Ototake, Kosuke, and Minami—exchange a few more words before they go. Minami understands that she will need to speak to a counselor, and that tomorrow she will have to make her apologies. She understands that she cannot do this again. The two sisters give their final bowing apologies and leave, Kosuke using one hand to hold Minami's and the other to carry the black square.
They do not encounter anyone on the way to the limousine. They pass by students in classrooms, after-school activities, and thankfully none of them see—none of them lean out of the doors to watch Minami go. Their footsteps ring loud through the halls that are empty, but to Kosuke, are filled with the eyes that will stare at Minami tomorrow.
When they climb into the limousine, Kosuke says nothing. She says nothing the whole ride. She wants to see if Minami will speak first, or if she'll be more comfortable when they get…"home." The canvas sits between them.
Minami hurries up the steps to the front door of the mansion, almost colliding with Miyuki when she opens the door for them. She speeds across the tiles of the foyer and makes it to the banister of the stairs before Kosuke calls out, "Minami!"
She stops on the first step, but doesn't turn around.
"Look at me."
She turns around, but her eyes are downcast.
"Look at me."
Minami raises her eyes to Kosuke's forehead.
"Why did you do this?"
Kosuke holds up the canvas, so pitch and ugly in the silver and gold of the foyer. Minami keeps her eyes pinned on her sister's forehead, not even glancing.
She shrugs. "I don't know."
"Uh-uh. No. Tell me why."
Minami's lips press together into that telltale M shape, the building dam, the rising steam. Her hand sits stiff on the banister.
"I didn't like it."
Kosuke pauses. Her fingers ache from clutching the canvas, palm atop Minami's black fingerprints. The next why will be the swing of a pickaxe. Why did you not like a picture of you spending time with your family so much? Because she knows the answer is not something so simple as 'I didn't draw Hitsuji's hair right.' There is something deep and cavernous here that shouldn't be mined on the staircase.
"Why did you not like it so much that you had to do this? Why did you not like it so much that you snuck away from your teacher to do this, when you knew you would get in trouble?"
Minami puts another hand on the banister, crouching as she does when she's about to jump. "I don't know."
"Yes, you do. Stop telling me you don't."
"I didn't like it…"
"Minami—" Kosuke's other fingers curl into her palm, her own dam. Minami is not an adult. She cannot explain herself like an adult. "It's okay to be upset. It's okay to not like the painting. This is not okay."
The M begins to quiver. Probably no one told her that—not the Principal or Vice Principal while she sat in that giant leather chair, not Sensei Akuri when she furiously scolded her in front of all of her classmates. No one said it was okay to be upset, so that meant they said it was not.
"What was it about the picture that you didn't like?"
Minami says nothing. She takes another step up the staircase.
"Answer me."
She takes another step. Then another, and Kosuke calls her twice, but it does nothing. She's gone. She scampers up the staircase and disappears into the hall, and the slamming of her door echoes like a gunshot.
Kosuke stands there, feeling like there's a tornado spinning inside of her, tossing her brain and her heart around in its wind. She's angry and frustrated because that's what you get when you are a parent. When your children draw on the walls with markers, when they wail because you won't let them open the knife drawer, when they scream at you for not taking them on a boat during a thunderstorm, when they answer every question with shrugs and "I don't know," you get angry and frustrated. And sometimes you snap, and afterwards you could drown in the guilt.
Even when you don't, there's the worry and the confusion. "Why can't she just answer me?" But also, "Why don't I already know the answer?"
Hitsuji comes walking down the other staircase with his firetruck in tow. It's so big he can't see his own feet going down the steps, and Kosuke goes to the bottom of the other staircase, feeling like a pachinko ball. Sister, brother, sister, brother.
"Why were you gone for so long?" he asks in greeting, stopping a few steps above her, one of the firetruck's wheels on his elbow.
"There was…something I had to take care of. I'm sorry."
He moves the firetruck to look down. "What's that?"
She turns it so the backside faces him, as if he'll see all the black smears and somehow make any sense of it. "It's nothing. Garbage."
"Do you want to play Firemen with me?" He holds up the truck, like she needed clarification. "The zoo is on fire and all the animals are still inside!"
Then Kosuke's phone starts buzzing—no, it's been buzzing. She acknowledged and ignored it at the same time. She fishes it out of her pocket, telling Hitsuji, "I'll be up there in a minute. Go ahead and—start saving the animals."
Hitsuji teeters back up the stairs, and Kosuke heads for the back patio before she even sees who's calling.
It's Shigeo.
All of Kosuke's intestines turn to rock.
She hits the answer button, probably with one second to spare, and even then it feels too heavy to hold up to her ear.
They don't even greet one another. "You don't have classes on Fridays."
"No."
"I'll be there at ten tomorrow morning."
And he hangs up.
Kosuke takes a moment to digest it all with her stone innards. The phone in one hand, the canvas in the other, the competition gone in a puff of smoke. Less than three hours ago, she felt like she was walking on the clouds. Less than three hours was all it took for everything to come crashing down. But then, she knew that.
There are other notifications on her phone, and she'd been acknowledging-ignoring those, too. All texts, no calls. Rika and Benjiro and Yoshiko and Tamaki and Kaoru and Hani ask if everything is alright. Mori wants to know if Minami is okay. Someone had told Haruhi, who has texted from the other side of the sea to ask if something has happened.
Then there's Kyoya.
Did something happen with Minami?
Is everything alright?
Kosuke goes back inside and up the stairs to tell Hitsuji she's going to be a little while longer. Then she goes past Minami's shut door to her own to explain to her classmates that she won't be coming to the competition tomorrow, to explain to her friends that everything was fine, and to explain to Kyoya what he might be hearing about his future sister-in-law soon.
Getting ready for school the next morning is like getting ready for a funeral. Hitsuji keeps glancing at Minami. Twice he's asked what's wrong and twice Kosuke has told him that Minami got in trouble at school, but he shouldn't ask her about it. Minami dresses herself in a spare uniform that's all pink and not pink-and-black, and eats her breakfast in robotic bites. Kosuke sits across from her, knowing that in just a short while she will stand in front of her classmates who have already told their parents all about her to bow and apologize. All while that empty spot with its plaque hangs on the wall.
Minami still won't meet her eyes. Angry or scared, it's impossible to tell. Kosuke says nothing, fearful that it will be what makes the house of cards fall, and so sends her out with a brush through her curls and nothing else.
Then it's just Kosuke and the house staff, who bustle around, cleaning up the already pristine mansion to prepare for Shigeo's arrival.
She's not upset for missing the competition so much as letting her friends down. Not that they needed her, but she'd promised she was going to be there to cheer them on. They've all assured her that it was okay, that family comes first, and still Kosuke feels awful.
At eight o'clock, Kosuke goes to her bedroom. At nine o'clock, she sits on the patio. At ten o'clock, she waits in Shigeo's office. Sitting in a leather armchair like Minami.
She doesn't turn around when the door opens at 10:02. Shigeo walks by to sit in his chair for the first time in eternity. He lugs a suitcase beside him.
In hindsight, that should have tipped Kosuke off. He'd left the office looking staged, with only the books on the shelves and a lamp on the desk. He carried in a suitcase filled with work.
Shigeo folds his fingers on the desk top and asks, very simply, "What happened?"
She explains it all. With every word, the storm cloud over his head darkens and fills the room. It's a warm and sunny day outside, but sitting across from him, Kosuke can feel the rain hitting her skin, can hear the thunder rumbling.
He stops her halfway through explaining Minami's punishment. "Why did she do something so asinine."
He must be the only person on this planet to ever describe a literal child as asinine, but Kosuke is already buried up to her neck and she doesn't want to dig any deeper by opening a smart mouth. "I tried asking her. She couldn't say."
"She couldn't say."
"She clammed up. You kn—" Kosuke almost bites her tongue off. You know how kids are, she'd almost said. "She's just a kid. She did it because she was upset. She can't explain it any more than that. Even adults—"
—do stuff just because they're upset. But Shigeo cuts her off again. "I would expect a toddler to do that, not a six-year-old attending the best school in the country."
"She's eight."
Kosuke is stabbed by the look her gives her. Lightning crashes. He hasn't given her a look like that since they were sitting in The Lily Bowl and she'd said he took her mother's death as an opportunity. Which is still very much true, in her opinion.
"Do you want to take a guess and tell me what this means?"
The desk is high enough that Kosuke can curl her fingers in her lap without him seeing. "Word is going to get around about what she did and it's going to make us look bad."
"Doing your studies doesn't mean much when you don't apply your knowledge."
"Minami has never done something like this. Not even when we were back in Karuizawa."
"I'll explain that to everyone." This time Kosuke opens her mouth, whether to snap or just explain that this isn't really anyone else's business, but he doesn't let her make a peep. "She's your responsibility. I told you that from day one. But you see, no one else knows that. Everyone knows that the three of you are staying with me, but I imagine they assume with good reason that I keep my distance from your sister and your brother. That is reasonable, and allowing them under my roof is respectable."
"If everyone knows you're not that involved with them, why would they think anything bad of you? They should just think that about me."
"Do you hear yourself speaking? Your sister is your responsibility and you are mine. You letting your sister behave like this means that I let you let her. From the day we met, I told you in no uncertain terms that people care about the whole, not the individual. Whatever you do is going to affect me. So because you have failed to keep such a simple concept in mind, it looks like I'm going to have to step in. I knew I had been too lenient."
"You don't have to step in. This was the one and only time she's ever done something like this; it doesn't mean she's gone feral."
"Tell me, what punishment have you given her?"
Ah. She figured she'd forgotten something.
Even if she did know why Minami was so upset by a painting, she couldn't just let her lash out at her teacher like that. She couldn't ground her from karate practice—that was a commitment. She could ban her from television for a while. She would miss the newest Karate Knights episode; that might get the message through. Or maybe—
"You haven't even done the bare minimum."
"I'll get to that."
"What will you do?"
"I'll ground her from watching television for a week. If she gets invited to do something with her friends, she won't be allowed to go."
"Why don't you give her a peck on the forehead, while you're at it?"
"If you want me to beat her—"
"That would get the message across."
"No."
"If you can't keep your family under control, then I will."
"You will NOT—"
"I will do whatever it takes to make sure you and your mother's do-overs don't ruin me. Of course, you could always go back to that shack back in Karuizawa, if you would like."
"Do you hear yourself speaking?" One of Shigeo's brows goes up, curiosity seeping through the fury. Kosuke can't bite her tongue anymore. Letting her tongue lash at him is the only way to restrain herself from caving his face in after he threatened to lay a finger on Minami. "You're not going to throw us out. You know you won't, you knew you wouldn't when you told me 'from day one!' Nothing my baby sister can do would do a fraction of the damage to your image as you throwing us out would! What would you tell everyone? What would you say to the Ootoris? I'd get to go back to Karuizawa and forget this ever happened, but that would follow you to the grave. No one is going to call you reasonable or respectable. They would think, with good reason, that you're a monster.I'm not going to let you near them, especially not with that empty threat."
How intoxicating righteousness is. Kosuke feels drunk. Every word hits her tongue like fine wine. She needed this. She could do this for hours.
But of course, drunkenness has consequences. Shigeo sits through her tirade as cool as an autumn day. He doesn't so much as twitch when she tears apart his go-to threat.
When she's done, he responds with his fingers folded on the desk again.
"If one of your siblings ever does anything like this again, I will make sure you never see your grandparents again."
The wine dries.
Kosuke thinks—she really, truly fears—that she's about to vomit all over the mahogany desk.
"What?"
"'What?'" She doesn't even feel annoyed that he just mocked her like a child. She doesn't feel anything. "Strange. See, you just wasted a whole thirty seconds of my time to brag about how smart you are, but now you seem genuinely confused that I figured out what a newborn could."
Kosuke doesn't get it. Kyoya would have never told him. The children definitely wouldn't. Airi and Sugimoto haven't spoken a word to him in decades. He's spent more of the past year outside of the country than in it. How—
"I invite my daughter to move into my estate with very specific rules as to how she will need to conduct herself. Then, shortly after moving in, she starts behaving very strangely. She goes 'shopping' and returns with her hands empty. She and her siblings go to the park and come back with cookies and cupcakes. I think the most embarrassing instances is when you would leave with your neck bare and then come back with a hand-knitted scarf. I honestly thought you'd given up by that point."
She keeps staring at him stupid and wide-eyed, and he sighs.
"The people who work in this estate don't work for you, they work for me. If I ask them if you or your siblings have done anything suspicious, of course they are going to tell me. If I tell your chauffeur to follow you and see where it is you're going, of course he's going to."
Now Kosuke swallows because she actually feels bile in her throat.
The mansion is safe when Shigeo's not here, she'd told herself.
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. Every room in this building is filled with eyes.
"Now, I'd hate to embarrass you further, but just for the record, I never cared. I even thought it was funny that you even felt a need to sneak out of the door." His identical blue eyes narrow at her. Amused. "What would you going to see your mother's parents ever do to me? Do they speak negatively of me? Have they 'turned you against me'? It's as you said—or, whined. I'm not getting rid of you. I'm not wasting a year's worth of effort on you just because you and Grandma and Grandpa gossip about me while you bake cookies. As a matter of fact, I think it'd be a swell idea if you came out with this little 'secret.' Introduce them to the Ootoris. Bring them to parties. It would be a heartwarming show. Nothing they say will hurt me. No rumor that they spread will take you away.
"But. I can take them away from you. Let me tell you a secret, one that you would be too foolish to share, and one that no one would believe even if you did. I know how to get rid of small fish in a big pond. I know how to turn the smallest mistakes into devastating lawsuits. I know how to ruin a business so thoroughly that at the end, its owners are left with just enough change in their pockets to grab a fried meal from a street vendor for their family to share as they tell their children they won't be able to pay their college tuition. I know how to ruin a person's image so much so that their families, even the ones their beloved grandchildren married into, must cut them off to spare them shame. I've done that to people when I felt that they had an iota of a chance of being competition. I will do that if it means keeping you in check."
A year now she's been living under his roof. Spending his money. Talking to his colleagues. Yet, Kosuke never felt like she truly knew who Shigeo was.
Now she knows.
This is the man her mother wanted her to never meet.
This is the man that makes her grandparents worry about her.
He is just as bad as the loan shark, but with sharper teeth.
Maybe she doesn't know why Emiko left her parents, even after all this time. Neither does she know why she left her husband.
But with Airi and Sugimoto, she's thinking more and more that it was…a misunderstanding? Or a moment of bad judgement. She cannot fathom that a man who knits scarves for his grandchildren and a woman who welds a watch for her grandson-in-law would do something to their daughter the way Sugimoto would.
She doesn't know a lot, but what she does know is that Airi and Sugimoto are good people who don't deserve to have the rest of their lives ruined by this thing.
"Do we have an understanding."
Kosuke leans back in her seat, backing down. Obedient as a scolded dog.
"We have an understanding."
"Even so, I cannot trust you alone here anymore. I'll be returning here as soon as I can to be a bit more active in your life. You want me to stay away from your siblings, fine. In return, you will leave everything else to me. Every time you receive a grade back from school, you will tell me what it is. Every time you plan to leave this mansion for anything besides school, you will need my permission. You will keep your siblings as far out of my sight as you possibly can. And if I hear another peep about either of them or yourself, we will be right back here to discuss how we will proceed."
Kosuke lets go of her shirt hem before she tears it. For a moment, she imagines that her palms are dripping black.
"Yes, sir."
"Get out of my office."
Kosuke nearly flees. She, too, goes to her room and slams the door behind her. Then she does something she hasn't done since the earliest days after those police officers showed up on her doorstep: she goes to the bed, crawls under the covers, and buries her face in the pillows.
She'd gotten too comfortable. Oh, she'd gotten too comfortable.