Chapter 33
Kyouya had no idea why he was to show up at Tamaki's doorstep. He had ignored emails from Tamaki, only glazing over invitations nowadays when his inbox was flooded with far more important meetings. But as soon as Kiyoko had texted him a reminder to show up at the Suoh household one Saturday afternoon, Kyouya had no choice but to get up from his slumber past noon.
He had woken up to an empty bed, realizing that the house itself was empty all on its own. Kiyoko had already left, hours prior without him even realizing. Kyouya would have been well-rested but now he found himself irritated as he rang the doorbell of the Suoh residence.
"Mon ami," Tamaki looked like he had run to the door to fetch him. "How kind of you to show! Our chef has been running late so perhaps you have come on time, after all!"
Kyouya followed his friend down the familiar halls of the Suoh residence, already hearing the chatter and laughter of the rest of the Host Club. It was unusual that the crowd would be gathered in the kitchen and not the usual dining room. Wine had been poured by the Twins who snickered at the arrival of the Shadow King. The rest of the group were conversing with one another, settling on stools or leaning on the island where food was being prepped. Plastic containers of sauces, washed and/or marinated ingredients, half-open and some lidded while cutting boards and knives were askew. It was organized chaos.
"So nice to have you, Ootori-san," Hikaru welcomed the final guest.
"Your beloved has been wielding a knife," Kaoru informed. "We've been on our very best behaviour."
Kyouya looked around to find Kiyoko dicing some kind of root vegetable. She didn't even care to look up from the counter, busy interacting with the actual chef about how they wanted the cut and if she should begin juicing the citrus blend for god knows what. The Ootori looked to Tamaki with a furrowed brow.
"I didn't ask her to do this," the Suoh explained quickly, holding his hands up in the air. "Our private chef for tonight was running late and she just… naturally began settling into the kitchen to help along the courses. I would never ask a lady to do such arduous manual labour!"
The room fell silent at Tamaki's outburst. Kiyoko shot the blond Suoh with an unimpressed glare, sending shivers down his spine and the Twins cowered with their wine glasses in hand. His choice of words teetered on the line of offensive in diminishing the work of cooking for a large crowd.
"Arduous manual labour to create culinary works of art," Kiyoko reminded him with a knife in her hand. "Respect the work of your chef or you'll be poisoned," she casually threatened, putting the knife back down.
"Uh," the chef shook his head vehemently. "No, sir – that's… I would never," they stammered to their client. Haruhi grimaced in an attempt to try to placate the poor man's concerns of getting fired on the spot.
"I'm kidding," Kiyoko brushed off with a sweet smile. "How lovely of you to make it, Ootori-san," she gave a nod of acknowledgement to the grouch. These days she used honorifics with him as a form of endearment or mockery, but more so the former than the latter recently. His brows unfurled at the sight of her smile at him and he gave one silent nod to her.
The interaction between the two fascinated the whole crowd, sans the private chef who was too busy preparing a gorgeous rack of lamb that would be plopped straight into the sous vide with plenty of seasonal herbs.
Kyouya found a seat by the counter facing Kiyoko as she continued to work rather than socialize. This was his usual spot at home anyway, always watching her do her magic, happily in silence. Sometimes he would take the time to read articles or his email, just glad to be in her presence. In this case, he was glad to not have to deal with the rambunctious crowd alone for once.
"Where did you learn to cook?" Haruhi made casual conversation, ignoring the ruckus behind her as she always did. She nursed a glass of chilled white wine and let the Ootori settle on the bar stool beside her.
"Oh," Kiyoko shook her head. "I'm not much of a cook."
Haruhi scoffed. "No, it's really me who isn't much of a cook." The lawyer spent most of her adult life in school and more recently, she was trapped in an office to actually cook these days. Somehow being afforded a private chef did make life easier when coming home to a delightful meal to share with her husband on the regular. Haruhi had to admit that this lifestyle change was for the better.
"You certainly have skills to be one," the chef cut in behind her, multitasking as they toasted the nuts for their dessert course. The nutty aroma filled the air with a strong vanilla note. Everything about the kitchen smelled delicious.
A chef easily recognized another with the way they traipsed around the kitchen and how they wielded their tools. Kiyoko had a good palette but always defaulted to the chef for a final opinion, respecting the line of command. "You're well-trained. Did you go to school?"
"Not the culinary kind. Just hung around the kitchen a lot as a child," she spoke of it casually, like any kid could gather the skills to julienne spring onions to mere millimeter slivers, letting them bloom in ice cold water as a natural course of action. The way she was able to utilize acid in just the right amount, concocting the brightest umami flavour of their ceviche Hokkaido scallops. She placed the beautiful bright green garnish along with the tiniest zest of lime across each homemade rice cracker with skill and precision.
"Did you grow up in Michelin star kitchens?" the chef joked, watching the way she plated the appetizers. It was exactly how they envisioned it, now come to life with just a few notes of instruction.
"Our private chef did earn a Michelin star," Kiyoko shrugged.
Haruhi raised an eyebrow, as if to say ah, of course. After many years with the Host Club and their rich people antics, this did not surprise her.
"Who?"
Kiyoko only laughed. "He's retired now and probably beyond your generation of great culinary stars," she waved off. Kiyoko spoke some European man's name that meant nothing to the non-culinary aficionados.
The chef only blinked, digesting the information quietly. "You trained with one of my idols? As a child?" The man moved to Japan after meeting his wife and built a small cult following since then.
"He only taught me how to wield a knife," Kiyoko kept the whole thing humble, as she always had. "And he only cooked at our home once a week. Plus, he taught me how to throw knives as a child, so maybe think twice about idolizing him."
Haruhi turned to Kyouya, shooting him a look to ask if he knew about this all along. The Ootori only shrugged, sipping on his Bordeaux that was generously poured by Tamaki as an apology for his fumble earlier.
"She owns restaurants too," Kyouya answered Haruhi's question with a sly humble brag. He nearly beamed at the mere mention of her success.
"Silent investor," Kiyoko interjected. "Part-owner by definition and I'm not a chef. I just appreciate good food with a respect for creative vision."
Haruhi admired the woman's humility. There was no doubt she was more impressive than what she let on, how else would the Ootori be wrapped around her finger otherwise?
"Why is that?" Haruhi was curious.
Kiyoko paused. No one ever asked why. Her love of food came naturally - kitchens shielded her from the chaos of everywhere else in the mansion; it was not a place for rich people to step foot in. She was sent to work in the kitchens as punishment as a child but over time, Kiyoko found comfort in it instead. The staff never hurt her, never screamed at her, and even welcomed her presence because an extra helping hand was something they could not complain about. Haru did not like the occasional clang of ceramics or the sound of chopping and much preferred being in his quiet room. But the noise of the kitchen was never terrifying - no thrown objects, no string of hurtful insults hurled at each other, no reason to be angry. It was just a place to be. A safe haven that she was afforded while growing up. The words got caught in her throat.
Kiyoko took a deep breath. "It's… fun," was what she was able to grit out before turning her back against the two. She slid over to the chef, taking over the vigorous stirring of the polenta and tried her best not to dwell on how she came to be.
Haruhi sipped on her glass quietly and turned to the Ootori who was enraptured by Kiyoko, even if it was just the back of her head. Her hair was swept up in a messy bun, a hair tie borrowed from Haruhi whose hair had since grown out from their days at Ouran.
"You're so awfully in love with her," Haruhi whispered. It was refreshing to see her friend like this. He moped and pined for her and was downright miserable without Kiyoko just a little over a month ago. The Host Club never thought they would see the day where the Ootori would succumb to emotion of any kind.
"Hm?" Kyouya was too busy watching the way she looked like she was about to beat the shit out of what looked like porridge. Why did she have to use that much strength? He wondered to himself.
"Remember when the Twins would tease you about her?"
"Last I checked, they haven't stopped," Kyouya grumbled.
"True," Haruhi agreed. "But they did it because they thought she was good for you."
Kyouya scoffed. "Or they wanted to irritate me to no end."
Haruhi shook her head, sighing in dreamy relief as she looked at the couple. "Look how far you two have come. From strangers to…" She tilted her head, thinking of the right word. "Partners?"
"That sounds so sterile," Tamaki interjected, catching the tail end of their conversation. He placed his arm around his wife's waist, kissing her on the temple. "Partners in business? Partners in life? I much prefer to term lovers. Like you and I, forever intertwined in fate, mon amour."
Kyouya rolled his eyes. The Twins faked a gag. Honey had made his way to Kiyoko by the stove. She had since stopped stirring the polenta and moved onto beating egg whites with a hand mixer. Haruhi had no idea that the house even had one, as she also watched with curiosity. Mori followed closely behind, his large stature giving him a view of everything from afar.
Kiyoko did not usually cook with this large of an audience and evidently neither did the chef. The kitchen was getting crowded with nearly ten people, even though the Suohs certainly had plenty of room to entertain in the dining area.
"Alright," Kiyoko announced. She noted that the chef had grown uncomfortable by the way they fumbled the candied pecans, nearly burning themselves when Mori snuck up behind without making a single sound. "Space, please. We need to move around freely to finish off your courses."
"But it's been so interesting to watch!" Honey pouted. Mori shuffled away his cousin, respecting the need for some distance. This organized chaos could have easily turned dangerous. The quiet giant was able to shepard the rest of the crowd, save for Kyouya who settled behind.
"You too," Kiyoko ushered away. "Go off. Be there for Tamaki."
Kyouya shot her a confused look. Was this not a regular gathering? The kind that happened far too often for him to have fun, for the antics of his friends that never quite changed even after a decade?
She lowered her voice to a hush. "Antoinette passed a few days ago." It explained why Kyouya was not greeted by two Golden Retrievers at the door. The Ootori selfishly hadn't even noticed. Tamaki had called him a few days ago about Antoinette but he was in the underground parking lot and assumed that the Suoh was just being annoying.
"Your friends came to comfort Tamaki at a difficult time."
"How did you…"
"Haruhi told me," Kiyoko explained. When Kyouya stared blankly at her, she continued. "I asked her if she had any friends in the financial crimes division of her prosecution branch to start building the embezzling case. It came up casually," she added with a nonchalant shrug.
"I sent flowers when I heard about it a few days ago," Kiyoko pointed to the large bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums, marigolds, and dahlias, speckled with daisies that sat atop the counter of the wooden dining table where the Host Club had settled. It was a beautiful centerpiece, somehow capturing the spirit and essence of Antoinette and Tamaki at once. She was so thoughtful.
"Oh," was all he could say. Kyouya blinked as he digested the information. Of course, Kiyoko was busy playing chess across varying social circles while he was at work crunching numbers. She was planning a coup. He was just looking at spreadsheets. How could he forget the force of nature of this woman?
"Hurry now," Kiyoko tilted her chin towards the crowd. "I think he would appreciate you being there."
Dinner was served remarkably on time. Kiyoko had taken her seat last, having spent most of her time taking bites of the food whilst it cooked, purely to ensure proper seasoning and not so much to quell her hunger. As a result, her appetite had diminished and she found herself becoming part server, part diner, shuffling between each course in silence.
"Goodness, Kiyoko," Haruhi caught onto the arm of the woman who had done far too much today, especially as their guest while she was on her way back into the kitchen. "Please, take a seat. Be comfortable and enjoy yourself. The courses will come as they are."
Kiyoko obliged and she took her seat, finally letting her hair down. Her mane fell into loose curls around her shoulders. She quietly picked away at the main course, being showered in compliments on the food while wine was being poured for her. She finally took a deep breath and cut into her roasted turnips, hoping to once again fade into the background.
Honey's curious eyes bore into her skull and she stared back at the boy. Or the man who still looked like a boy that happened to be her size as a fully grown adult. Kiyoko hadn't shot him a look to be feared but usually the discomfort of prolonged eye contact was enough to shoo them away.
"Is it true that you survived an attempted murder?"
Kiyoko was not sure what she had expected coming out of the innocent blond's mouth, but that question came out of left field. So much so that all the heads turned over to the end of the table where Kiyoko sat across from Honey as she calmly answered.
"I survived a crash with someone intentionally ramming into my vehicle. I do not know who it is. I do not know why it happened," Kiyoko remained as factual as she could.
"What if–"
"And," Kiyoko cut off one of the Hitachiins with a cold stare. "I do not wish to speculate. Thank you for your concern," Kiyoko drily. Her deft fingers cut more aggressively into the rack of lamb even though it was already fork tender and spilling with juice.
Silence blanketed the table. Kiyoko respected the friends of Kyouya enough to understand that they played an essential role in his life but found herself still unsure of how she was meant to fit in, if at all. She was content with the surface-level business relationship that she could easily cultivate but nothing more. Kiyoko needed Haruhi for her current venture. The Twins were tolerable in their own right, clients of hers to some degree. It was uncomfortable to have so much interest in Kiyoko herself. She could talk about art, books, and even politics. She could send flowers and offer her deepest condolences for someone. But suddenly, the personal conversation made her want to shrivel up.
"Do you still play cards, Hibayashi-san?" For a man his size, he sure was brave enough to hold a conversation with a woman who clearly did not want to.
"Not for fun," Kiyoko responded. She bit her tongue down on the first thought that came to her mind which was, do you mean if I still gamble? Kiyoko tried her best not to sound like she was here to bite someone's head off.
"What's fun for you?" Honey seemed oblivious to her cold demeanour. Kiyoko was mid-chew and Haruhi spoke on behalf of the Hibayashi who had the spotlight on her.
"Cooking, it seems? Kyouya mentioned that you have restaurants?"
"Silent investor," the Hibayashi corrected again after she swallowed. "I trust others to run them."
"And the gallery?" Kaoru asked. "I hear a new exhibition is coming. How do you have the time for all of this?"
Kiyoko shook her head. "That is all Nami's doing. She has been footing the majority of the work for the new exhibit." She lifted the wine glass to her lips.
"While you recovered?"
While I was rendered useless, catatonic, and an absolute failure. "Yes," Kiyoko answered, fighting the urge to gulp down the entire glass. Not enough wine to dull this aching feeling, she realized. She tried to focus on how the notes of the wine became sweeter with the lamb but it all tasted bland to her.
Kiyoko sunk into a state of self-loathing, tuning out the noise of the crowd. It was not much different from her usual state, only that she was usually able to shut off that awful voice and dreaded feeling by doing. She filled up her day with meetings, with errands to meet with the right people, moving chess pieces in the best way she could and slinking in the background as she always had. As long as she was doing something - calculating the next move, driving across the city, and even cooking, she was able to get out of her own head for long enough to feel normal.
A steady hand brought her back from what felt like a gaping sinkhole in her chest. She was close into collapsing right into it before a gentle touch rested on her thigh.
"Isn't that right?" Kyouya turned to her. The Twins had asked about the theme of her new exhibition and she missed the question entirely.
"Hm?" Kiyoko blinked a couple times. Her eyes stung from staring into nothing, as if forcing herself to be devoid of tears.
"You've been occupied with a new undertaking lately," he repeated.
"I suppose," Kiyoko refused to divulge any further.
"As a financial crimes vigilante?" Haruhi referred Kiyoko to one of her colleagues without much question, especially after she had skillfully diverted the conversation away from herself. That was how they all ended up at this table when Kiyoko suggested that being alone in your grief for too long is never a good thing. Haruhi had succumbed to the charm of Kiyoko without realizing it, talking about Antoinette and Tamaki like it was just a natural topic between close friends. The Hibayashi was terrifying in the way she could disarm anyone and anything.
"Not a vigilante," Kiyoko shook her head.
"Nor a restaurateur," Haruhi added with an eyebrow raised.
"Or a card player!" Honey chimed in.
"Just a gallerist," the Twins finished.
"Not even that these days," she muttered quietly. It wasn't so much that she cared for a title to her occupation but the reality was that anyone could tell she did not have much to show for how she spent her days lately. Kiyoko was taking a large gamble. On some days, she ran on pure delusion that it could all work, so long as she played her cards right and planted the right seed for the fruits of her labour to sprout in time. On other days, she tried her best not to think too hard about if none of it went her way.
"I heard you're helping build a case?" Haruhi tried again.
"Yes," Kiyoko looked back down at her plate, hardly eaten. She had documents but no witness testimonies. It was just the barebones of speculation. A paper trail that was muddy at best, according to the prosecutor. Kiyoko wanted to sink into the ground at the thought of how naive she was. It felt like the universe was pulling at the threads of her bare boned plan. If all else failed, she needed the Ootori to put a deal on a table that no one would refuse. The Ootori was all she had.
"Did I hear correctly that it was against your family's corporation?" Haruhi's colleague did not say much about it, not that they were really allowed to anyway.
"Indeed," she swallowed thickly, without the appetite for food. She could feel the entire table shift in a whole myriad of shock to fascination and then a collective curiosity.
"Why?" Of course, Honey would be the bravest one to even ask out loud.
"Why not? It is obviously a crime to embezzle," Kiyoko coolly said, leaning into the madness. This was what she was known for. This is how she thrived. Kiyoko tried to revive that part of herself again.
"Wouldn't that be disastrous for…" Tamaki trailed off.
"The company?" The sole Hibayashi finished for him. "Sure," she shrugged. "But wouldn't it be so interesting to see it all…" Kiyoko swirled the wine in the crystal, watching the tears drip down the glass. How many tears had she shed over the past year alone? How much more was she going to withstand being in this crazy delusional world of this family business? Her anger flickered across the room. It was felt across the dining table, even if it wasn't targeted towards anyone but the general universe.
"Topple?" She asked the crowd with a flick of her other wrist.
"What about your wealth?"
"What about it?" Kiyoko tilted her head. Sure, the dividends were sizeable and her shares were worth a decent killing but ultimately, after crunching the numbers - she could still survive off of the gallery if she wanted to without her inheritance. The inheritance was conditional based on her marriage anyway. Her restaurants had barely stopped hemorrhaging over the past year. Things were looking up for her if she just stayed put.
"Wouldn't you lose out?"
"I have lost enough," she cryptically answered. "But there is much to gain for your dear friend, Kyouya." Kiyoko tilted her head towards the Ootori who had been silently digging away at his rack of lamb. Did he not eat today? He engorged himself within minutes while Kiyoko still had a full plate. Her deft fingers pushed her plate over to the Ootori, where the least he could do was stuff his mouth if he wasn't going to speak.
"Companies survive scandals all the time," Haruhi pointed out. "You won't lose out on much over time."
Kiyoko brushed off the comment. "It's not about the money. It's about power."
"She's been planning a coup," Kyouya summarized to the crowd. He could sense her discomfort that oozed out of her while his nosy friends got their claws under her skin. Kiyoko was not used to this well-meaning attention. Her defenses were up. "Are you too busy to eat?" He forked over a piece of meat towards her, trying to save her from this madness.
Kiyoko instantly veered back, putting a hand up and refusing to be fed like a child in front of his friends. How embarrassing, she thought. The rest of his friends found it endearing. Tamaki cooed and looked at his wife with a hand over his chest.
"I ate here and there while prepping to make sure everything was seasoned properly," she pushed away the fork and directed it back to the Ootori. "You seemed to enjoy your plate so I figured you'd like mine too."
"How adorable that you two share your food! So domestic!" Tamaki gushed. "I love them so much," he turned to his wife with what looked like tears in his eyes. The crowd laughed.
"She doesn't eat enough," Kyouya grumbled. He could have sworn that she probably lived on one meal a day and it was always dinner that they ate together. Although the Ootori wasn't much better, skipping lunches in favour of working longer.
"I ate plenty while helping in the kitchen," she reassured. Only now, Kiyoko couldn't taste a single thing when her mind was too focused on how many things had not gone her way. The lack of progress gnawed away at her, and the pit of her stomach kept sinking further into the abyss of the unknown when his friends reminded her of it.
"You never told us the story of how you got started as a poker player," Hikaru was dying to know. "Yeah, suddenly you swept us all of at least 10K and we were nearly naked." Kaoru added. It was starting to feel like she had now warmed up enough to the group to talk more about herself. The Hibayashi had always been such an enigma, ever since they met her again post-Ouran.
Kiyoko raised an eyebrow. "What do you want to know?"
"Do you count cards?"
"That only works for Blackjack," Kiyoko countered. "Although we've tried. The boys couldn't keep up fast enough and it was too easy to get caught."
"The boys?" Kyouya turned his head to her, narrowing in on this new development.
"Don't look so appalled," Kiyoko rolled her eyes at the Ootori. "I have friends too." All she really needed was a fresh start after Ouran and a desperate group of idiots who did not take notes in their Economics class. "I met Christophe's cousin at the Suoh wedding last summer. Eclair, was it?"
Tamaki clapped in delight. "A small world! You two are friends, then?"
Kiyoko leaned back and sighed. "He was one of idiots who were talking about going to the Hippodrome but also couldn't quite risk missing and failing our Economics midterm. So I offered to teach them the content in exchange to join them."
"Were you always good at it?" Haruhi asked.
Kiyoko shook her head. "The boys taught me the basics on the train ride with a deck of cards. We didn't win very much until months after."
"Were you just looking for friendship?" Honey asked.
Kiyoko needed a way to make money fast, preferably tax-free. She could sink thousands into stocks but the gains were not enough. She had already given up her tuition as a means of funding Haru's care, overlooking every single detail instead of having their grandmother do it. The cabin had been renovated and refurnished to Haru's needs, his food and activities established on a routine that he was comfortable and happy with over the summer before she left for the UK. Kiyoko was given daily updates on her brother through email or a scheduled phone call by their hired caretakers and always made time to call her brother, even if he only picked up half the time.
Quite frankly, Kiyoko did not have the means to afford another semester of Oxford without a hefty sum of sterling in her account by the next academic term. She preemptively took out a line of credit and sunk into a chunk of debt. But thankfully by then, the little gambling ring had turned into an unlikely success, paying for just another year of schooling. As they continued their operations, Kiyoko had paid back enough and won more to keep her afloat for a couple years. Lady Luck had truly blessed her with earnings and a strange group of friends, now scattered all over the world from Europe to Asia.
"I guess so," Kiyoko swallowed the desperation she had felt a decade ago. The feeling had crept its way back into her soul, only now for a completely different reason. Where was Lady Luck when she was gambling in other aspects of her life? "It was fun while it lasted."
"There's more to it, isn't there?" Haruhi pointed out. Anyone could tell that Kiyoko's pause spoke volumes over her cool answer. "Surely, you didn't gamble just for fun. The risks are too high."
"Not when you're rich," the Hibayashi countered, pushing away the question with ease.
Haruhi was not convinced. Damn the woman for being so perceptive. "Forgive me, Hibayashi-san, but you're far too well-adjusted to throw away money like the Twins would."
"Hey!" the Twins interjected together in offense.
"She's right," Kyouya agreed with the lawyer. The redheads huffed and sat back in their seats, reluctantly accepting that it was true.
The crowd waited patiently for Kiyoko to elaborate. She had always been conditioned to keep this air of secrecy, especially when it came to the family's inner workings. Better to keep up mystery than to allow for more judgement to be casted upon them. But in the years of erasing her brother's existence, Kiyoko never thought that he would literally be so easily erased as it were. He so very much deserved to exist in this world that washed him away because of shame and discomfort. Kiyoko hated how she played a part in it all.
"I had a brother," Kiyoko whispered. She tightened the grip on the stem of the glass she fidgeted with. She took a deep breath as her throat began to constrict. Haru would only live in her memories and if she let him die off in the way that her family desperately wanted, she would be doing him a disservice.
"He's not on the family registry," she continued. Words became difficult to grit out. Kiyoko had to try her best to keep her voice even. "There is no use looking for him because he's dead. He died in that car crash with me a few months ago." She had to remember to breathe. When she blinked away the tears, she looked up from the table to a silent room. There was no surprise stricken over their faces, only empathetic eyes.
Kiyoko was quick to catch on to their looks. "Ah," she nodded in slow realization. "I see you've told them."
"I'm sorry," Kyouya apologized sincerely. He didn't think she would get interrogated like this - the Ootori should have given them all a warning to lay off on the Hibayashi.
"For what it's worth," Honey chimed in, as he always did when things got uncomfortably quiet. "Kyouya was really sad about you leaving. He didn't know what you wanted or why you left."
The Hibayashi softened and smiled at the blonde across from her. "It's alright," she told the Host Club. "I suppose it's better to talk about him than not. His name was Haruma. I called him Haru. And to answer your question," Kiyoko turned to Haruhi after finding her voice again. "I gave up my university tuition for the caretaker and facility costs. My brother was autistic and had very specific needs. He was being sent away by my grandmother and… I couldn't let him go without knowing that I had done everything I could for him."
"You couldn't have taken out… a loan? Don't you have a trust fund, or something?"
"I had to gamble with some kind of capital," Kiyoko explained. "By the time I had graduated, I had made enough to be debt-free and comfortable. Half of that trust fund was for my education and the other half gets released when I am married," she added.
"And then you became a gallerist?" the Twins were slowly putting together her origin story.
"Yes," Kiyoko answered. "I became a gallerist to sell my brother's artwork. In fact," she turned to Kyouya. "That painting in your office was painted by him. The one of the ocean."
"I thought you represented mostly Nordic artists?"
Kiyoko laughed. Rich people really would believe anything. She once took a Scandinave name generator and called it a day when slapping a name to the art.
"It started with just Haru. He had all these phases of art that made it easy to just list him as different aliases. No one could tell. No one seemed to care as long as I spun it to the right client. He was obsessed with woodworking at one point. And then for months on end, he made only whales. Like, what the fuck was I supposed to do with that?" She shook her head at the memory. She had to make something out of nothing, building an empire on a whim, catering to the picky high socialites.
"I like whales," Mori offered.
The curator tilted her head at the gentle giant before acknowledging him with a slow nod. Whales did suit him. This calm man seemed like the kind of person who would appreciate Haru's whale era. Kiyoko would have to dig through the archives for him.
"What will you do now?" Takashi asked.
"Nowadays, other artists are under my representation but Nami is clearly more suited to continue as the actual gallerist." They had a steady client base and a good number of artists that they represented to be sustainable. Nami had good taste too - something Kiyoko could not find so easily these days. Taste was innate, not taught.
"You wanted to be a writer," Kyouya casually told the group. She shot him an instant glare to be quiet.
Kiyoko gulped down her wine, embarrassed that the man had the gall to even tell people about what she told him in confidence. She helped herself to a healthy pour, topping up the Ootori's glass as well. She couldn't look anyone in the eye. Being a writer seemed so frivolous of an activity and an occupation, Kiyoko could hear her grandmother's scorn just thinking about it.
"No," Kiyoko denied. "I haven't written since I was in university." Her first love was literature, after all. She had to find creative outlets in writing abstracts and other things instead, preferably those that made money.
"You wrote poems," Kyouya pressed on.
"Based on prompts in class," Kiyoko downplayed. "Short stories and all. Nothing of note. I don't write anymore."
"I'd love to read your work someday." It was an eager offer from the human golden retriever. At first, Kiyoko could not tell if he was just being nice. It took a couple more moments before realizing that Tamaki was genuine in his offer.
"You can," Kiyoko offered boredly. "It's still in publication, I think. We met about translating the work into Japanese but honestly, it's a project I have dropped."
It was the Ootori's turn to look surprised. "The leather bound journal…"
"I told you it was an original copy," Kiyoko rolled her eyes. "What did you think original meant? It had Haru's drawings all over it. Somehow, he knew that the words could not be obstructed and always drew around them."
Kyouya wasn't sure what it had meant. Only that the water logged pages, the smudged ink, and the intricate art that was drawn felt like a window into her soul. That only he was allowed to have, to see, to understand. He had read it in small increments over time, unable to digest more than a few pages at once but each page was filled with melancholy, pain, and sorrow in some form or another.
"I will buy ten copies immediately for our academy!" Tamaki announced.
The Hibayashi shook her head. "It's published under a pseudonym and not available in Asia. I just wanted to see how far privilege and connections could take my work. It seems like anything gets published these days. Things without substance, only nonsense."
"It's not nonsense," the Ootori insisted. "It… it was…" he felt stupid as he tried to find the right words for it. "Raw."
"Raw," Kiyoko repeated, amused by his choice of words as he stumbled through it. "What a captivating review." The sarcasm was strong. But there was no trace of offense laced in her comment.
"Why did you drop the project to translate it?"
She shrugged. "I couldn't find the right words in Japanese. The prose never sat right with me and I was busy with other things anyway. Writing felt like a chore above all other things I was juggling with the gallery."
"Well, maybe someday you could revisit your passion," Takashi reminded softly.
Kiyoko let out a long breath, one that she did not even realize she had been holding. Somehow, she had held onto the idea that the whole crowd would have judged her silly venture in writing. Kiyoko knew that her family certainly would. The tension in her body had let up just a little. This odd group of ridiculous characters had distracted her from the dreadful feeling of being inadequate, dulling the voice of sharp critique at every movement she made.
"Maybe," she said wistfully.
Kyouya had to admit that the dinner was rather enjoyable. What was more enjoyable was having Kiyoko all to himself, now that they were finally alone. He nuzzled his nose against the crook of her neck while she spritzed on her toner. Kyouya was immune to the skincare she sprayed, no longer pulling back when she performed these tasks. All he wanted to do was to soak in her scent. It was all he needed after a long day.
"So needy," she teased as she patted her skin. She tilted her head to let him inhale her collarbone before planting a kiss to it.
"I want to make you my wife," Kyouya growled. He wanted to cement this union for the world to know. He wanted to make her his, legally and preferably, forever. Kyouya wanted her to be a part of his life regularly. His friends clearly liked her too. What was not to love? The entire Host Club oohed and ahhed at the woman, delighting in her presence every time she graced them with it. She gave cool a new meaning, displacing him entirely from the role.
"Is that so hard?"
"And then what?" Kiyoko laughed, not taking the thought seriously. "Would you get married just to check it off the list?"
He shot her a frown through the mirror. "No, I would never diminish the act of commitment." Kyouya had already decided that this woman would be his or no one at all. As if being estranged from her was not enough to prove that he was a shell of a human without her.
"It's an outdated institution," she argued.
"You aren't saying no," the Ootori smugly pointed out.
"I'm…" Kiyoko rolled her eyes. "Not saying yes, either," she settled, breaking away from him towards the bedroom. Kyouya trailed behind her like a lost puppy, aching to touch her again. Kiyoko settled onto her side of the bed and he followed, not willing to let go of the topic just yet.
"It would make sense to marry."
"Not now," Kiyoko persisted. Not now to this topic, not now to marriage. She turned over to put her phone to charge on the nightstand. They had plenty on their plate already.
"As a safety net," Kyouya reasoned.
"I have enough of a financial safety net," she shot back. "I don't need the trust fund money. If you recall, I was planning on wrecking the company from the inside out. You know, as an actual declaration of my love for you in the most chaotic way possible?"
"This would be a move to placate your grandmother, especially in a power vacuum," he said, ignoring the snide remark.
"The only thing that would placate her is death," Kiyoko mumbled without a trace of remorse. Kiyoko had to admit that if her grandmother died, it truly would leave quite the power vacuum. She still held the most shares in the company granting her the owner and the woman who could and would overturn any decision that she did not see fit. Her father was probably counting the days he could take over, so long as Kiyoko did not marry and allow the shares to be passed over to her husband.
"Speaking of which, how much time does she have left?" Kyouya wondered. The elder was reaching her eighties. "She could be a strong ally." Alive, and or in death.
"She hates every fiber of my being, Kyouya," Kiyoko sighed. For as long as she could remember, the Hibayashi matriarch was obsessed with the family's social standing. Trying over and over again to win the graces of the rest of their circle but after every attempt came a new problem. It was only in the recent decade that everything had become quiet and her focus became building the wealth of the family. With money came power, and if they were not able to charm themselves into the good graces of high society - they had to find other ways of respect.
"I am nothing but a pawn to her."
"Why not make her your pawn?"
"By doing what she wants?" Kiyoko was quick to vet his logic, unimpressed by the thought.
"No," Kyouya shook his head. "As with the Go, you need to overtake as many pieces as possible to win. She is a piece. You are a player."
"This isn't really how proposals usually go," she joked.
"I tried in France and you weren't amused. But if you wish, I could get the ring tomorrow. Or we could go together."
She slithered further down into the duvet, pulling it over her shoulders as she closed her eyes, ignoring his request. "Whatever," she dismissed, silently hoping that sleep would take over her faster than not.
Kyouya slid down and kissed the top of her head tenderly. "Think about it: we could be unstoppable. If you take down your father and have the backing of everyone on the board including your grandmother, she would pave the way for us. She is the Queen of the chessboard. We capture her, and the game is over."
Kiyoko opened one eye to find the Ootori staring down at her, beaming with his grand plan.
"There is no way we could do this quietly. The moment you draw a prenup with your family estate lawyer is the moment alarm bells would go off."
"No prenup then," Kyouya declared.
Kiyoko's eyes shot open and glared at the man. "That is not a funny joke."
"I'm not joking."
"Then don't be stupid," she shot back.
"Don't be scared," Kyouya smirked.
Kiyoko furrowed her brows. God, at this rate she would need Botox to keep herself from getting wrinkles in her twenties. "Fuck off. Go to sleep," she brushed him off again.
"So, tomorrow we can go pick out a ring?" Kyouya ignored her abrasive tone, now taking it as a form of endearment.
"What?" Kiyoko turned over to her side, refusing to face the Ootori. "No," she refused as she turned off the lamp. "I'm busy."
"I'd rather have your input than not," Kyouya casually responded. "How do you feel about sapphires?"
"I'm not having this conversation."
"Your favourite colour is blue."
Kiyoko sighed. "Yes, and?"
"Would it clash with your usual red nails? Should I match with a dark ruby? Or just go with a usual clean diamond?"
The woman turned over and gazed up at the man in confusion. Kiyoko could not decide if she was annoyed or touched by the mere fact that he had thought so far in these details. He was so wonderfully considerate to her, in ways she did not deserve. Her heart swelled at the thought of him mulling over her hands, especially her nails and how it would look with a symbol of their commitment to each other.
"I would rather you put more thought into your prenup than a ring," Kiyoko refused to get too caught up with the idea, stopping herself from that fluttering feeling in her chest.
"There is no prenup."
Kiyoko groaned in frustration. "Kyouya, you cannot be serious."
"This is a safety net," he repeated. "If we cannot sway the board with your embezzling case, or if the acquisition falls through - we have to do this."
Kiyoko closed her eyes and buried her face in her silk pillowcase, refusing to face the man. She hated how much sense he was making. It did not help that Kiyoko was already drowning in the reality of things not playing out the way she needed them to.
"So," he smirked when she did not respond. "Shall we get married then? We can get the paperwork done first and plan for the wedding later, if you'd like."
"I don't want a wedding." Kiyoko shuddered at the thought of planning one and the attention it would bring.
"Great," Kyouya smiled. "No wedding. I can work with that. The ring is non-negotiable though."
"What? Rings are trivial. I could buy my own ring." But a piece of jewelry added to her collection seemed like a frivolous purchase right now. And besides, she did not usually wear rings.
"Is it?" Kyouya raised an eyebrow. "A symbol that you are off the market to eligible suitors? I think not."
"Kyouya, there is nobody lining up to marry this psychopath," Kiyoko shut her eyes, massaging her forehead so the wrinkles would not stay permanent. "I don't need a ring," she insisted.
"You're my psychopath."
"Good night, Kyouya."