Some content warnings for this chapter:
*A character tries to get another character drunk by omitting the alcohol content in their drink.
*A character attempts to take sensitive/compromising photos of someone in a vulnerable state.
*Said character does so with the intention of posting the photos on social media.
I knew I forgot to do something yesterday. You can blame my ADHD-having ass for that.
As per FFN's content policy, this chapter does not include sexually explicit content. If you'd like to read a version of it that does, you can read it on AO3. Also note that it has NOTHING to do with the warnings above. It is completely consensual.
Nezu University Crowned Rising Chef Champions, Ouran University Suffers Humiliating Defeat Written by In the Know writer Motoko Onishi
Top 10 Lowest Scores in Rising Chef History - #4 Kosuke Amida And here we meet the competitor that led me to making this list. Amida only just performed at this year's Rising Chef Competition, but with a score of 3.2 (from the prestigious Ouran University, no less!), she's earned an unfortunate place in history...(Read More)
Rising Chef 27 in Review
posted by Rising Chef Competition 23,193 Views 64 Comments
banan128: what happened to the Ouran girl's dish? Ive never seen a score that low
xxredribbonz: (reply to banan128) it looks totally fine too was it like raw n the middle or sumthing?
violetsprings: (reply to xxredribbonz) The website lists all the dishes the competitors were supposed to make and hers was a sake-marinated mackerel. But if you look at 2:28, I don't think that's sake? It's not a great camera angle but I don't know, that doesn't look like a sake bottle to me.
banan128: (reply to violetsprings) wait omg I think ur right. What is it?
knitbeans: Omg if I was the Ouran girl who made that score I would be crying ToT
10purplelady10: no wondr that one competor made a 3.2 look at her face shes totally out of it!
forfunssake: Soooo if you make a score that bad does your school immediately expel you?
For the first time in his life, Kyoya blocks internet content via keywords on his computer.
He shouldn't have looked to begin with. Maybe the silence unnerved him too much.
While family friends and business colleagues may reach out in concern of a loved one, they seldom do if they've done something embarrassing.
At least this foray into public scrutiny is easier to swallow. People are no doubt chatting about the Amida heiress and Ootori fiancee's televised blunder over their tea and sandwiches, but there's no juicy details for them to snoop for. It doesn't even come up in Kyoya's everyday conversations, let alone in near-strangers' attempts to disguise their burning curiosity as "checking in."
Even Jin steers clear of the subject the next time she talks to Kyoya, and she'd been bouncing off the walls over her future daughter-in-law being on stage. As for Fuyumi, Kyoya had warned her against fussing—so she fusses over him by proxy, fretting how embarrassed and disappointed Kosuke must be, a piteous sigh between every sentence.
Do his mother and sister even pay mind to social media or pop-culture journalism? They may not. But Kosuke's friends do, which is just water to the grease fire.
Knowing how they'd reacted the last time Kosuke had been out-of-sorts in the kitchen, Kyoya had intercepted them as quickly as a quarterback. They could be sympathetic, but under no circumstances were they to cry or yell. Or touch her. Kyoya implied very heavily that the first person who tried to force her to sit down, or check her forehead for fever, or test her hand-eye coordination, would receive a not-so-kind touch from himself.
Regardless, no one could stop their plan to welcome her back to the campus the Monday following the competition. They formed a wall of support at the school entrance, bearing gifts like Kosuke was coming out of a lengthy hospital stay, or returning from being stationed overseas. Her classmates and teammates doubled the group's size.
All Kyoya could do to help was send Kosuke a text to warn her of what was to come, which she had only responded to with a thumbs-up.
Like the rest of them, Hani is watching the road for the first sign of her limousine. "Maybe we should've made signs. Like, 'Congratulations!'"
Reiko points out, "Congratulations for what?"
"Oh. Good point..."
"This is already a bit much, guys," says Haruhi, equally aware of Kosuke's distaste for coddling and equally powerless to shield her from it. "Just be nice, and don't overdo it."
"And keep your hands to yourselves," Kyoya adds.
From behind him, Hikaru speaks up with such revulsion that everyone's heads turn. "What are you doing here?"
A fair question, because 'you' is Amaya Domen.
By the way she's been celebrating, you'd think a war has ended. She's practically possessed by glee. The last time Kyoya saw her was after the competition, and she had been twitching to dance and sing. Not only did Kosuke get a historically low score, Amaya won a historically high one. It's a wonder she didn't overdose on dopamine.
Kyoya had to block her name from the search engine, too. He almost got ill seeing all the articles not only praising her performance, but outlining her academic career, relaying word-for-word interviews like she was as much a key player in the competition as the Minister or the judges. She truly is a stain he can't wash out.
Her self-control is so brittle, she nearly skips over to them. "Oh, good, she hasn't made it yet. I was worried I was going to miss her."
"She should be here any minute," says Benjiro. Probably he, Rika, or Yoshiko thought it would be good to invite Amaya.
"Excellent." Amaya holds up a little lacquered box. "I woke up extra early this morning to get these made in time."
"Were we supposed to bring gifts or not? I could have brought the limited-edition WDIBC sweatshirt I ordered just for her."
"No one said no gifts, Renge, just not too many gifts." Haruhi is eyeing Amaya as she says this.
Kaoru snorts. "That's not even a gift. It's free advertising."
"Excuse me? Kosuke was a strong inspiration behind WDIBC, not to mention there's only going to be a hundred of these sweatshirts produced—"
"Enough," Kyoya cuts in. "Here she comes."
Kosuke's limousine creeps around the bend. They all shuffle anxiously, and Tamaki gives them one last order: "Remember, we are here to support her in this trying time. She's overcome with anguish and we have to keep her upright."
So most of them inch a little closer to the curb, probably expecting Kosuke to fall out of the limousine like goo. Heavy bags under the eyes, matted hair, translucent skin. Because how could her heart even still be beating, after what happened?
The limousine stops, the door swings open, and Kosuke steps out.
She looks well-rested, healthy, and bright-eyed. And she's carrying a basket.
"Good morning, everyone. Sorry I haven't been able to see all of you since Friday, I was exhausted."
Sighs of relief and squints of confusion, even from those who had seen her just minutes after the scores were announced—likely chalking up her nonchalance to shock. Perhaps, they think, she just barely powered through until she was home and could collapse where no one would see.
Rika recovers first and spits out, "Welcome back!" It ripples through the rest, chipper or apprehensive.
Renge gives a double thumbs-up. "You survived your first time on television, congratulations!"
The twins praise, "And you didn't even break a sweat!"
Hani tries, "You did great! Or—your team did great! Um. You did your best! And that was great!"
Reiko puts a hand on his arm to stop him.
Despite being in DEFCON 1 mode on Friday, Tamaki is nothing but smiles now as he holds out his gift: a single rose, having been talked out of a whole bouquet by Haruhi, advising that Kosuke may not like carrying it around campus all day. "You're still the best chef I've ever known. What you made was probably still better than what most could manage!"
"Mm. Far-fetched, but okay." Kosuke takes the rose and smells it. "Oh, by the way, I got the results back. All clear."
Tamaki's shoulders give under the weight of Kyoya's voice. "What results?"
"Uh...Just from a little check-up I took her to Saturday. With a doctor. Who did some tests. And an MRI."
"Tamaki."
"I just wanted to make sure everything was okay!" Tamaki holds his hands up in the face of Haruhi's eye-roll. "I will not apologize for caring about my friends."
"Tamaki's right, though. Some day it's just going to be a funny story, right?" Rika gives Kosuke's shoulder a shake, grinning. "People are going to be buying your cookbooks and will forget it ever even happened."
"What, are you kidding?" Kosuke laughs. "That's going to be my selling point. No such thing as bad publicity, right?"
"Kosuke."
Kyoya's jaw clenches as Amaya approaches Kosuke, a hundred miles too close to her. Already bile is collecting in the back of his throat.
"There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. I've never even heard of someone with no culinary background making it to the Rising Chef Competition before. You really made history!" Amaya extends the box. "Here, I made these for you. I just want you to know it was a pleasure to see you perform."
Then the bile threatens to leak from Kyoya's mouth as Kosuke takes the lid off the box and reveals the small matcha cakes topped with paper-thin flowers. It's a carbon copy of the dish Amaya had served the judges at the competition.
Kosuke doesn't even miss a beat. She oohs at the cakes and brings them closer to her face to marvel at the details. "Oh, they're beautiful! Thank you, Amaya."
Not a drop of sarcasm to be heard. Amaya does not react to the non-reaction. Kosuke has had plenty of time to refine her acting skills, after all. "Of course. Chef Murashige is actually going to be serving those at his restaurant starting this fall. He asked me for the recipe when the competition was over."
The twins dry-heave. Meanwhile, Kosuke just nods, truly impressed and truly happy for Amaya. "That's amazing! At least something good came out of this." Frowning, she looks to her other teammates. "I really am sorry, I know how important this was to you guys."
Of course, they all pounce at the first sign of upset, telling her it's okay and no worries and there's nothing to be sorry about and don't let this bring you down and it was just a one-time thing and it happens to the best of us and just wait until next year and don't forget we love you and are you sure you're okay and you know you can talk to us.
When the responses go from comforting to fretting, Kosuke holds up a hand to silence them all. "Like I've said, I'm totally fine. But I know you guys are still worried, so. I'd like to offer a deal."
She lifts up the cloth in her basket. "If you all promise to stop fussing over me, you can have one of these rice balls. I made them look like pandas."
Kyoya bites his lip so his smirk isn't too proud.
It works like a charm. Kosuke's friends gnaw at their lips and wring their hands. They sweat. Their mouths water.
"Fine."
"Deal."
"Gimme."
One hungry mass reaches into the basket to claim their pandas. Thanks hardly make it out of mouths to make way for the rice. Ironically, seeing them all still clamor for her food probably made Kosuke feel better than any platitude ever could.
"Here, Amaya." Yoshiko holds one out for her. Her other hand is unwrapping her own in an impressive show of dexterity.
Amaya takes it, but Kyoya knows for a fact that it's going straight into the garbage the first chance she gets. She nods good-naturedly to Kosuke, still too intoxicated on vindication to let her mortal enemy's lack of shame bring her down. "I'll see you in class later, Kosuke. I'm sure Chef Matsuhisa will want to talk about the competition. Bye, now!"
Her exit triggers a slow exodus. The rest of them start making their own ways to class, or home, for Haruhi and the Zuka trio. Kosuke tosses her basket back into her limousine and waves her chauffeur off. Amaya's box of cakes go with surprising gentleness into her bookbag, while the rose—once checked for thorns—goes behind her ear.
"And good morning to you, too." Kosuke tucks a rice ball saved just for him into his bookbag. "Sorry I didn't get to talk to you much this weekend."
"Don't be."
Kyoya had been watching this metamorphosis for some time now, probably beginning with Spike. Her anxiety is not so volatile anymore. She lets things go sooner and gets back on her feet faster. Her whole worldview has been healing.
He's wanted nothing more than to see Kosuke get better, but he'd been so conditioned to worry about her that he couldn't believe it when it finally happened. Too good to be true—surely she was still obeying the instinct to neglect herself.
It took until the disaster at the competition for him to see she has indeed changed. Her smile wasn't a mask. When she said I'm okay, she meant it. And if he didn't believe her while she was backstage and being babied by her grandparents, he did when she called him the next day and confided that she was guilty, she was disappointed in herself—but with all the confidence that it was just a passing storm.
There were so many factors into it that could have broken her—her passion for cooking; her literal dream of being in the competition; the attention of not just her friends and family, but her idols and the entire country. And probably spite against her old self who couldn't do anything in the kitchen except lift a spoon to her mouth. Yet break she did not.
In all honesty, it left Kyoya a bit awed. Not that he never thought of her as anything less than amazing beforehand, but as they walk together into the school halls, he finds himself unable to look away from her. She has no idea how much of a wonder she is.
"Just a few more weeks until you graduate," she says—which doesn't quite break his reverie, but he has one foot back in reality. "Does it feel weird?"
"Hardly. If anything, I feel bad for leaving you with the twins."
"Eh, Haruhi will still be here. That'll be a one-to-one ratio at least. Oh, I almost forgot. Remember that Sugar Plum Pixie jacket I was talking about? I found someone selling it online! It's being shipped now."
She pulls out her cellphone to show him, but Kyoya notices how every pair of eyes they pass is laser-focused on them. The same thing happens when one of their student athletes fumble at a game, or an artist chokes at a performance. An embarrassment for them is an embarrassment for the school, and that will earn anything between sympathy to scorn.
Kosuke seems genuinely unaware, though, so Kyoya doesn't mention it. At least for now none of the looks being sent her way are contemptuous. "For the record, I'm never going to let Tamaki haul me to the hospital again. That was a one-time thing. He was crying."
"You did a good job bribing them away. Though I don't know how long it'll last. You may want to keep those rice balls in high supply."
She shrugs. "They may not believe me alone, but they may believe you and Haruhi. Not that I can blame them. I haven't exactly been zen in the past."
"Hopefully Amaya will understand that you aren't a shell of your former self soon, too."
"Hm? Oh, right. Well, it's the same thing with Chef Matsuhisa. Not a problem for me to figure out. These cakes do look great. She got that score for a reason."
Is Kyoya happy that he will never have Amaya as a classmate again? Naturally. Is Kyoya regretful that Kosuke? Of course. Is he pleased that Amaya occupies such a small part of Kosuke's mind that Kosuke immediately forgot even speaking to her? Gloriously so.
The impending end of the school year mitigates the hysteria a bit. It helps that with Kyoya graduating, anytime someone seeks him out re:Kosuke, they have to remember to politely change the subject to congratulate him.
Kyoya insists that Kosuke go offline for the time being, but she's way ahead of him—"I basically only use the internet for cute animal videos, anyway." Conversations focus on plans to celebrate Kyoya and if they should (or can) take a trip somewhere during Kosuke's break. The competition only comes up once, when Kosuke cooks him the sake-marinate mackerel dish for a dinner date as a sort of joke. She recreates her vinegary disaster, too, as a sort of repentance for what she brought upon the judges. This leads to her begging for vanilla ice cream to get the taste out of her mouth, and Kyoya driving to a convenience store to save her.
One thing gets exponentially worse: Amaya.
In all their shared classes, she's never more than a few inches away. She finds any excuse to touch him, whether it be passing a paper or grazing shoulders as they leave the classroom. Every single conversation includes a passing comment on Kosuke's single loss and the long history of Amaya's many achievements. For example, Amaya mentioning that "she really hopes Kosuke is okay after what happened" segues into her recounting a time where she single-handedly prevented a disaster at a royal wedding when the caterers miscounted the attendees.
It's not just more frequent, either. Something inside of Amaya has changed. She'd always went into a certain state when Kyoya was around—eyes half-lidded and voice a little huskier, her vies for his attention subtle but her presence sultry. Now? She's giddy.
As far as Amaya is concerned, she has 'won.' Kosuke had failed so spectacularly and publicly, there's no way Kyoya could marry her anymore. No one so pathetic could be allowed to have the Ootori name! The evil had been defeated, and now Amaya could awaken Kyoya with True Love's Kiss and walk with him into their happily-ever-after sunset.
It does a number on his appetite. At the end of another long day of Amaya's flirting and flouncing, it occurs to Kyoya: I should take a page out of Kosuke's book.
No more sneers or sideways looks. When Amaya speaks to him, he ignores her implications and plays the part of an amiable classmate. It doesn't seem to deter Amaya any, but it proves Kosuke right. There's a sort of pride to be found in refusing to let it affect him, like he's keeping control.
After another Amaya-contaminated class, Kyoya thinks that she'll tire herself out soon, anyway. Not a moment after that thought, Amaya asks, "Oh, aren't you coming to the lunch meeting?"
"Lunch meeting?"
"This morning Yoshiko told me that Kosuke wanted to see all of us at lunch. Maybe she just meant the culinary students? But I just assumed you would be there, too."
Tone aside, she's telling the truth, and she wants him to agree to join them. Which Kyoya does, just to make sure Amaya doesn't also have plans for this lunch meeting.
When Amaya walks down the hallway, Kyoya says, "The cafeteria is in the other direction."
She grins. "She has a meeting room set up for us."
Indeed she does. A few minutes later, Kyoya and Amaya enter a meeting room occupied with as many culinary students as can fit at the table. Laid atop the table are trays of rice balls, sausages cut into squids, carrots and broccoli and tomatoes on beds of lettuce, hard-boiled eggs, rolled omelets, edamame...Like someone took a hundred bentos and divided them among plates.
At the head of the table is Kosuke, who doesn't even pause when she sees Kyoya and Amaya enter. "Hey! Oh, thanks, Benjiro."
Benjiro moves so Kyoya can sit next to Kosuke. An entire line of students stands to offer Amaya their seats, and of course Amaya takes the one next to Kyoya.
"So when are you going to tell us what this is all about, Kosuke?" Amaya sing-songs.
"In just a minute. I want to make sure as many people make it here as possible."
After another handful of stragglers, Kosuke stands and claps her hands. The room hushes. "Okay, let's go ahead and get started. First, thank you all so much for coming. I know not everyone was able to make it, so I'd really appreciate it if you'd pass along what I'm going to say.
"So, there are three reasons that I've invited everyone here. First, consider this a sort of...apology for the competition. I'm not going to stand up here and play the victim or anything, but just know that I really do feel awful for letting you guys down."
They respond with a gentle ripple of reassurances. Amaya is glowing.
"Second, some of you are going to be graduating in just a few weeks. So consider this a farewell dinner. I loved being classmates with you guys, and I wish you all the best. Not that you need it, because you're all going to be great."
There's a short round of applause, and said students wave their hands in appreciation. Amaya's claps are a touch slower than others'. The odds of getting something juicy out of this meeting are getting smaller.
"Third, I wanted to make an announcement. I know this may come off as me being very self-important, but I just thought it would be easier to tell you guys all at once. I need to say it, but I want to get it out of the way now, since I'm sure you're all at least a little sick and tired of hearing about Kosuke Amida by now."
A few chuckles. People lean forward in their chairs, curious.
"Next school year," Kosuke continues, "I will not be taking any more culinary classes. I'm still going to be here at Ouran, of course, but I'm going to branch out. Take some different electives, maybe a club. So don't spend your first day of class asking 'Where's Kosuke?' Because you guys are too good at what you do to be focusing on me all the time."
When was this decided? Kyoya thinks.
He can hardly hear his own thought. As soon as Kosuke finishes, there's a cacophony of protests and questions. She may as well be stepping down from presidency. As she did to her welcoming committee, she holds up a hand for silence. "I''ll answer three questions, and I'm not listening to any buts. I wasn't kidding about not focusing on me, guys."
Disbelieving, even outraged, silence follows—but a hand does go up. "You're not just quitting because of the competition, are you?"
"Not exactly. I love cooking. More than anything. But I've been feeling pretty burnt out for a while now, and I think the competition just proved that I need to step back a little. It's not like I'm never going to cook again, or I'm never going to talk to you guys again, I just won't be taking classes anymore. That's all."
A second hand goes up. "What are you leaving for? I mean, what are you going to do instead?"
Kosuke shrugs. "I don't know. I still have time to pick an elective. Or like I said, I may just join a club."
A third hand. "Then who's going to replace you?"
"Repl—? Guys. It's a class, not a military squad. You don't need a leader."
Then come the buts. Many of them, and Kosuke true to her word, sits back down and gives no response other than taking a sip of her tea and instructing, "Everyone dig in. I don't want any of you to be late to class."
Of course the but-but-buts keep coming, and—Kyoya can feel the hairs on the back of his neck bristling—their tones are souring. Kosuke's disclaimer has failed. The way they see it, she's giving up. All their admiration has been wasted on someone who throws in the towel when she doesn't get first place.
Kyoya pushes his chair back, but Amaya pushes hers faster.
"Everyone!" Her voice hardly rises a decibel, but a hush falls over them all, sentences cut in the middle. "Kosuke has never asked any of you for your expectations. Maybe she's helped you in the classroom, or maybe you've admired her—but none of you were ever owed that. Kosuke is one person, and mind you, she's only just recently taken to culinary studies. She's doing what she thinks is best for herself. None of you are entitled to feeling disappointed by that."
Is there a gas leak in this building?
Watching the students duck their heads in shame, Kyoya feels anger brewing in his gut. Not just at them for being so judgmental of their so-called friend, but at Amaya for defending Kosuke before Kyoya could, and when Kyoya knows there's a motive to it. He just can't see it yet.
Kosuke has to know that, but she nods and says, "Thank you, Amaya. But really, I'm more worried about you all taking care of yourselves. I think I've been distracting you all for too long, so me leaving will be a good thing in more way than one."
"I, for one, am going to thank Kosuke for putting this meal together for us, and wish her all the best." Amaya toasts Kosuke with her cup of tea. "I'll miss you in class."
There are frowns, but no grumbles, when the students lift their cups to share in the toast. Kosuke toasts back to them, and conversation creeps in among them all, vacation plans and new year's classes.
The table empties slowly, one or two students at a time—all at least neutral as they leave. Thankfully, some of Kosuke's actual friends say they'll miss having her with them, but that they still look forward to seeing them at school. Their disbelief is out of love, not outrage. No doubt, they'll hold their tongues until they're out of earshot, then launch into frantic whispers on what's become of their classmate-slash-role-model.
Amaya, too, leaves without much fanfare—even when it's just her, Kosuke, and Kyoya left. Kyoya wonders if he should be more optimistic. Maybe she's just so pleased she doesn't see any need for backhanded compliments.
Anger flares anew when he sees the platters and trays left behind. The vegetables, the eggs, anything served as-is have been picked clean—but the rice balls and omelets hardly have a morsel missing.
"Whoa, what's that look for, Mr. Grumpypants?"
A duo in staff uniforms have entered to take the used dishes away, to which Kosuke gives her thanks. Kyoya waits until they've cleared his place to answer. "They're acting like you're going to poison them."
But Kosuke just covers the untouched rice balls and replies, "I mean, can you blame them?"
"Yes, but put a pin in that. You didn't tell me that you were quitting your classes. When did you decide that?"
Kosuke puts her hands on the table, looking preemptively exhausted. "So...I'm not quitting because of the competition. But I'm also not quitting because I'm burnt out. It was Shigeo's idea, not mine."
Well, so much for a nice meal. "Since when does he care about these things?"
"Since his heir made a fool of herself on national television. Don't get me wrong." She waves a hand. "I know it's not fair, but nothing he does ever is, and...I can just cook at home. He hasn't banned me from ever stepping for in the kitchen again."
"You love your classes."
"As well as other things. You know, starting something new actually sounds pretty nice. I know it's getting close, but I still have tons of options for electives."
Kyoya takes a coche from her and puts it over the unappreciated omelets. The symptoms of hearing Shigeo's name are not as severe this time, and Kyoya chalks it up to Kosuke's peace of mind rubbing off on him. "That's frustrating, but if you're fine with it, that's good. On the other hand...Amaya."
"Yeah, no, that was weird. I don't know, maybe speaking up for me was her way of rubbing it in my face. Not that there's anything to rub in, mind you, I'm just guessing how her brain works." Kosuke snaps her fingers, perking up. "Hey, that's an added bonus. No more classes with Amaya for either of us."
"When you put it like that..."
"Silver linings, hon."
She goes on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. It's far past time for her turn, though, so Kyoya returns it. He almost asks then and there if they can try to meet again tonight, but decides against it for fear of sounding desperate. He would honestly forgo any graduation celebration in favor of an evening of smothering his fiancee with kisses.
Tragically, they see each other less the next week, as Kosuke explores her options. There's the craft electives, and it would make Sugimoto so happy to teach her embroidery and needlepoint. She's far from an athlete, but a beginner sport team comes up a few times, things like swim and baseball and soccer. A few times she's able to get samples. For instance, a student-led self-defense class invites her to attend one of their last meetings of the year. Kosuke later texts Fire the Onion Squad, you got me now with a little boxer emoji.
On Wednesday, Haruhi and Kosuke meet up for coffee, and tell him to meet them at the front entrance after. Given the news that his father had given him that morning, well, Kyoya could really use a coffee. A few gallons, even. Or a gun with a single bullet.
When Kyoya arrives, Kosuke is knelt down with a camera to her eye. It's snap-snap-snapping at something on the ground.
Haruhi catches sight of him and calls, "Hey, Kyoya!" Kosuke lets the camera hang by the strap around her neck and picks up a lidded cup by her foot.
"Here's your coffee. Black as tar, just as you like it."
"I take it you're looking into a photography elective?"
"Mm-hm. I actually did it a lot when I was younger. But it was on an oldie of Marti's, not one of these fancy things." She taps on the camera. "The professor let me borrow it to show him some photos by the end of the day."
Haruhi looks down at their feet. "What were you taking pictures of, again?"
"An earring. See?" Kosuke clicks through the photos on the screen. "Apparently there's something really poignant about random stuff on the ground."
"The winner of the last school photography competition was a picture of a used bandage on the sidewalk," Kyoya concurs. "You're onto something."
He sips his coffee while Haruhi asks, "Don't you have to come up with a meaning behind it, though?"
"Uh, let's see...The juxtaposition of the earring on the ground represents the contrast between man-made creations and nature. Or it's a metaphor for...consumerism? Eh, I'll come up with something. Kyoya, look at this!"
She pulls up something on her phone and holds it out for him. Kyoya skims through an email. "'The Aspiring Academic Society'?"
"They reached out to me about that essay I wrote for class. It's a society for students in all majors who want to get academic work published. Not as demanding as theses and not as particular as journals, y'know? There's a chapter here and they wanted to see if I was interested. I'm meeting with someone Friday."
"That's good."
Frowning, Kosuke takes her phone back. "No need to click your heels for me. Is something wrong?"
"I'm also meeting someone this Friday. Amaya and her father."
It feels sick just saying it. Kosuke's face twists in confusion, but Haruhi speaks first. "Why?"
"A celebration for my graduation, and a PR stunt. I thought we were long past it, but Father says it would look good to show everyone we're still on good terms with DomenMed. I don't know how many more demonstrations we'll have to do..."
"Let me reschedule, then."
"No, go to your meeting. No need for both of us to suffer." Not to mention, you weren't invited, and I know how that'll go over.
"You guys always get so prickly when Amaya comes up," observes Haruhi. "Why?"
Kyoya takes another sip of coffee, despite it burning his tongue. "We'd be here all day."
"I'll explain later. Next time we get coffee?" Haruhi nods, but gives Kosuke a sideways look of appraisal when her back is turned. An actual promise to talk instead of clamming up; no doubt Haruhi is proud. "I'm sorry, Kyoya. But if her dad is there, maybe it won't be so bad?"
Kyoya can't say. He hardly recalls what Daisuke Domen looks like, let alone his character. Maybe him being there will compel Amaya to behave. "Maybe."
Snap. Kosuke scrutinizes the image on her camera screen. "Hm...'By combining a coffee cup, a universal symbol of hard work and exhaustion, with the contemplative expression on the man's face, the artist is—"
"No."
"Maybe photography isn't for me." Kosuke taps a finger on her chin. "Or maybe I can do something like the newspaper?"
"Don't," Haruhi and Kyoya snap together. Kosuke holds up her hands in surrender.
Kyoya checks his wristwatch. "Thank you for the coffee. I'm serious, don't reschedule that meeting."
"Promise I won't. Bye, honey. I'll talk to you later."
(Kyoya has come around to the pet name, after all.)
He hears Kosuke behind him as he leaves: "Alright, message received. Did the Host Club and the Newspaper Club have some kind of blood feud in high school?"
"I'll explain that the next time we get coffee."
The meeting doesn't loom so darkly on the horizon when Kyoya spots those silver linings Kosuke had told him to look for. After this meeting, he won't have to see or hear Amaya for quite a while. Who knows? He may never have to speak to her again.
Not that this prevents any trepidation. Amaya knows how final this meeting could be, too, so it stands to reason that she'll have something planned.
Lo and behold, on Friday evening Amaya waits for him, alone, at their reserved table.
The Emerald Lounge was a popular spot among Daisuke Domen and his peers. It's polished but smoky, like a posh speakeasy, a mahogany bar and amber lights. Many older couples of Kyoya's acquaintance enjoy this place, maybe because it's more fun than a stuffy gala but not as wild and uncouth as a nightclub. Amaya has dressed to match the atmosphere, her dress wine-red and velvety, but with a knee-length A-line skirt to dance.
Just to streamline the whole ordeal, Kyoya straightaway says, "I take it your father was unable to come."
"No, and he's so sorry about that. Something came up at the very last minute, he already had his cufflinks on and everything." Amaya tilts her wine glass to his. "I know you'll like this, so I ordered you a glass. Lambrusco di Sorbara."
Kyoya takes a drink. Despite himself, she's right. "Ah. Very nice."
"Isn't it? My father's absence aside, thank you for joining me—though we are here in celebration of you."
"Let's not sing my praises too loudly. It's only graduation."
"At the top of your class, of course. It seems trivial only because it was so easy for you. With how brilliant you are, I'm stunned that you're not graduating with a doctorate."
"Thank you, that's very kind."
Amaya's eyes have a fshimmer in them that gives Kyoya pause. Maybe his lack of obvious disdain could be misinterpreted for interest, not apathy. He doesn't need to give her any reason to sink her claws in further.
There's a slim black box on the table. Though Kyoya only glances at it, Amaya taps it as if on cue. "From Father. Let's save that for last, though. I don't know when I'm going to get to see you again."
"I'm hardly going anywhere, I'm sure you'll see me plenty."
"Oh, you know what I mean. I don't think we've really ever gotten together for...years, now! We've been so busy with all our obligations, our schoolwork. And I could hardly pull you away from Kosuke."
Kyoya hums and takes another drink. "I'll admit to that. We can be inseparable, to say the least."
"I have to say, I never quite understood that." Amaya leans forward and rests her chin on her palm, long eyelashes casting shadows over her high cheekbones. "Kosuke I can, because well, you're you. But you...You never seemed the doting type."
"What makes you say that?"
"Oh, come on, Kyoya. You know yourself—reserved, private. Until you met your fiancee, and you're together like magnets. Imagine if your sister starting walking around with a sneer on her face, talking down to anyone who stands in front of her. Such a change, and right after meeting her."
Such a puzzle, Amaya Domen. Goading him to explain why he didn't change like that when he met her, when she surely remembers how that went.
Kyoya, still programmed to serve his father's every whim, went into a possible courtship with her as dutifully as he did everything. He asked about herself, her interests, her hobbies. He smiled and gave her all his attention. And Amaya acted as though he was gum on the bottom of her shoe, hardly looking at him, eye twitching when he spoke.
Once upon a time, Amaya Domen loathed him. Now here she is, talking about his change.
"I was lucky enough to realize that I'd met my match in her. I don't see any point in concealing affection. Doesn't it seem like a waste of time?"
"Let's dance."
"Pardon?"
"I need to stretch my legs. Dance with me! Don't tell me you've forgotten how."
Kyoya puts down his glass, takes her hand, and leads her to the dance floor—all without a beat too long of hesitation. He's kept up well so far.
They start swaying with the other couples, slow, gliding. Amaya couldn't look more satisfied if she sank into a warm bath. "It's been a while since I've had a good dance partner."
"This is hardly a demanding dance."
"Stop, now. You've always been good at this. I'm sure you were a good teacher to Kosuke."
"She was a good student."
Her face has turned contemplative too quickly to be real. "Kyoya, may I ask you something? About your family."
Just this meeting, and you're free. "Go on."
"I know I may not be so privy as to how things are now, but I understand that Ootori Medical is...treading carefully, given everything. I know that Amida Health is going to be a monumental help. But I've heard rumors that Mr. Amida intends to retire soon, and it frightens me. To leave after such a large change, with Kosuke taking his place..."
"I assure you, there's nothing to be concerned with. Kosuke is deserving of the role."
She continues as if he hadn't spoken. "A few years just isn't enough to know the finer details, don't you think? Through no fault of her own, of course, but I wouldn't call your union equal. Much of the responsibility will fall on you more than her, no?"
"Perhaps, but if that is what she and the company need, so be it."
"You know, whenever I thought of marriage, I imagined my partner and I to...balance. Not the same, but equal nonetheless, fitting together like cogs in a machine. Someone intelligent and responsible, who prioritizes his family the way that I do mine, finding happiness in caring for his own."
The last of Kyoya's reservations go out the window. Despite her insistence otherwise, this may be the end of their acquaintance.
To hell with it.
"Amaya, may I ask you something?"
"But of course."
"Do you have feelings for me?"
Amaya flustered is a sight as rare as a comet. Yet here it is. Her footfalls stuttering just so, eyelashes fluttering—a quick look around them to see if anyone has heard, or maybe in shock that he's saying this so publicly. Saying it at all. Punching through all the subtleties and forcing it out into the open. It is jarring, like ripping off a bandage.
There is no quick and witty answer this time. Her greatest weapon, her sultry-voiced ambiguities and implications that invite one to into her web, won't work against a question so blunt.
"That is..." Amaya swallows. Her lips are struggling to maintain their upward tilt. "Quite a bold question!"
"So yes?"
Amaya musters a laugh like it's all in jest. "Honestly, Kyoya, you keep surprising me—"
"If the answer was no, you would have said it by now."
"I—" That one panicked syllable bursts out before Amaya clamps her lips shut. "I don't think this is the place to have such a conversation."
"Maybe not, but as you said, who knows when we'll see each other again. If the answer is no, then we can end this conversation here. If the answer is yes, then we should settle the matter."
"Settle the matter how?"
Kyoya takes a closer look at her face. He inspects every twitch and crease and blink, and his conclusion perturbs him.
For once, Amaya is uncomfortable. Dreadfully so, and not just in this room with these people, and not just being trapped like a bug under a glass.
It's him. Something about him is upsetting her.
Sadly, her well-deserved mental anguish is cut short by Kyoya's phone ringing—specifically, ringing the tone set for Kosuke. It may not be urgent, and it may be rude, but perhaps Amaya needs to stew for a minute.
Kyoya quickly says, "Excuse me." Then he turns and leaves her on the dance floor.
He tucks himself out of the way, near the exit door, and answers. "Hello?"
"Are you with Amaya right now?"
"Yes."
"Can she hear us?"
Kyoya watches as Amaya steps off the dance floor and returns to their table, picking up her wine glass but doing nothing with it. "No, but she can see us."
"I need you to listen to me for a minute. I'll explain later, but right now, just act like you're worried. Act like you're trying to calm me down."
It's far from the strangest situation he's been in. Kyoya subtly rubs at his brow. "Go on."
"You're at The Emerald Lounge, right?"
"Yes."
"Great. I need you to do something for me. I'm at the Merit hotel. It's very close, just two streets away. I need you to come here now. Say it's an emergency, I'm in trouble, and you're coming to help." Kosuke pauses. "Amaya may want to come with you...If she does, let her."
Maybe not that far from the strangest...But, it's Kosuke. He'd do more with less explanation for her. "Alright. Where to again?"
"Room 518. Tell the concierge and I'll get you in."
"I'll be there soon."
Kosuke hangs up.
Kyoya hurries to the table and rifles some bills from his wallet. Amaya startles at him.
"I need to go. Kosuke needs my help."
Amaya blinks—even in that one tiny movement, there's something off about it. "Oh, dear. What's happened?"
"I don''t know, but she's nearby and I need to go to her."
Bills thrown onto the table, Kyoya whips around and hurries for the exit. A moment later, Amaya appears at his side, surprisingly light-footed in her dance shoes.
"I'll come, too. You may need help."
Now, why would Kosuke predict that Amaya would so uncharacteristically show concern for her? Why is Kosuke in a hotel room, and why the theatrics? These are questions that push Kyoya forward, narrowly making it through walk signals and weaving through passerby. Amaya is always hot on his heels.
He's still almost jogging as he enters the Merit lobby, but takes a breath before he walks up to the concierge. "I'm visiting someone in Room 518. Could you let them know I'm here, please?"
As foretold, the concierge calls, checks, and waves Kyoya and Amaya onward. They hustle to the elevators, and Kyoya makes a bit of a show pressing the 'up' button on each panel. Though, he'd be lying if he said the suspense wasn't killing him.
Two, Three. Two guests step out, then three on Floor Four, and on Floor Five Kyoya is out before the doors have finished opening. His and Amaya's footsteps are loud in the carpeted hallway, louder when Kyoya catches the sign reading 510-519 directing them to the right.
Then, there it is. Not one thing to clue them in on what's behind the placard of 518.
With nothing else to do, Kyoya knocks.
Kaoru opens the door.
"Hey, there you are!" Kaoru greets them breezily. Not so much as glancing at Amaya, he holds the door open for them. "Come on in, quickly now."
Amaya must be dumbstruck—what kind of emergency is this?—but as if tugged along, she follows Kyoya inside.
In quick succession, Kyoya becomes aware of three things.
First, Kosuke. Laying belly-down on the bed with her feet kicking lazily behind her, phone set down as if she'd just been fiddling with it a moment before.
Second, Hikaru. The moment that Kyoya and Amaya pass the bathroom, Hikaru steps forth from it and locks the door behind them. Even Amaya can't help but shout in surprise.
Third, a man Kyoya has never seen before. Bound. He's sitting against the wall, hands under his knees, with neckties around his ankles and wrist. He's not gagged, but judging by the bruise purpling under his eye, he won't be making a sound. Kaoru moseys over and resumes his post beside him, lazily examining his nails.
"Hey, you made it. Oh, and you brought Amaya, too. Great!"
Kosuke sits up, so amiable, but there is a pitch-dark fury radiating off of her.
Bewildered, alarmed, and already taking in her outrage secondhand, Kyoya only says, "What happened?"
Kosuke nods her head at Amaya. "Why don't you tell him? You've always been such a great storyteller."
Amaya is a deer with headlights at her front and a wall at her back. Still as a rock. It's the most primal display of a freeze response Kyoya has ever seen.
She recovers quickly, and laughs. It sounds like her, the smile looks like her, but none of it reaches her eyes. "Is this some kind of game? A prank of sorts? I knew the twins could be mischievous, but I didn't think you had the same sense of humor, Kosuke."
Kosuke turns to the prisoner, nods at Amaya, and asks, "What's her name?"
The man whimpers, "Amaya Domen."
Again Kosuke looks to her.
Amaya raises a brow. "I don't see what you're getting at here. Plenty of strangers know who I am. Am I supposed to know who this is?"
"This is your last chance to explain before I do it for you."
Any remainders of a smile fall of Amaya's face. For once, she lets her contempt for her "replacement" seep through, lips pulling back in a slight sneer. "If this is your idea of a joke, it's not funny, and I want no part of it."
Amaya turns to go—but Hikaru is leaning his back against the door, arms crossed, silently challenging her to take another step.
Her lips clamp into a thin line. Kosuke sighs and stands to her feet. "Alright, then. Let me explain."
She waves a hand at the bruised and beaten stranger and tells Kyoya, "This is Kenji Lee. He and Amaya used to be classmates way back when, but they really met when Amaya discovered he'd cheated on an exam. Instant-expulsion-level cheating. Amaya brushed him off and said she really didn't care—and I don't know, maybe she didn't. Until she needed a favor and remembered that he owed her one.
Part One of that favor was having him make a website for a fake club. A really good one. Then, as a 'representative,' she has him reach out to me saying that I'm being invited to join and would I mind meeting with him at the restaurant in the Merit hotel to discuss it? He really did read my essay, too. Right, Kenji?"
'Kenji' nods, shaking all over like a wet cat. Kosuke sardonically pats his head. "Then came Part Two of the favor.
"We got to the restaurant, and Kenji here immediately ordered something called a tropical tea for me. He said it was great, I'll love it, yadda yadda. I don't think anything of it, but then I get the tea, and I can't help but think it tastes a little stiff. But just a little, so I think hey, maybe I'm overthinking it—but then Kenji gets really interested in knowing if I like it, and when I finish it, he gets me another one right away.
I'm still thinking that I may be making something out of nothing, but I'm suspicious. So I go up to go to the bathroom, and I stop by the bartender and ask what's in the tropical tea, and wouldn't you know it—it's very stiff indeed." Kosuke taps a finger on her chin. "Now why would Kenji get me something so strong when all he was drinking was an orange juice?
"I'm meeting a stranger alone in a restaurant, he specifically reached out to me to join his group, and he's pushing drinks on me. It's so weird that I almost sneak out of the restaurant, but then I think it's weird in a different way, too. He reached out right when I was looking for a new group to join, which I thought was just good timing, but now that he's trying to get me tipsy I can't help but think there's something more to it. I think, I need to know if this guy is going to be a problem.
So! I ask the bartender to make the rest of the teas virgin without letting Kenji know, and I call the twins to come and watch what's going on. If know that if I anything outright, it'll scare him off, so instead I keep drinking the tea and start to nod off and yawn and slur my words. He starts going oh you don't look so good and maybe you should lie down. He says I can rest in the room he's staying in, and I make sure Hikaru and Kaoru are following us when I go along with it.
We end up here, and he tells me to lie down. I do, and I'm acting like I'm really out of it. Then he pulls up the camera on his phone and starts coming towards me, and right when I'm about to put that self-defense class to good use, the twins knock on the door. Kenji opens it, and once he's on the ground and I've let Hikaru and Kaoru get some licks in, we start asking questions.
Part Three of the favor was going to be getting me drunk, bringing me to a room, taking some pictures of me, then posting them on some burner social media accounts. They would be so scandalous that everyone I knew would cut ties with me, and my fiance would end our engagement just to spare his family the shame. I'm just assuming on that last part, but does that sound right still, Kenji?"
He whimpers agreement. Kaoru drives a foot into his side so he spits out, "Yes, ma'am!"
Kosuke folds her arms across her chest. "Did I leave anything out?"
Kyoya has to curl his hands into fists. It's the only way to keep them from reaching for Amaya.
He could honestly hurt her. He wants something to hurt her as badly as she could have hurt Kosuke. Would he, if she'd succeeded? Kyoya doesn't want to call himself violent...but he can only take so many threats to his family.
Actually, it may not be so difficult. Amaya is more vile than he ever could have thought. So vile he can hardly stand to be in the same room.
As Kyoya cycles between rage and disgust, Amaya gives Kosuke an up-and-down look of amused pity. "Is this all because of my partnership with Chef Murashige? The score that I got? Because—"
"I'm giving you a chance to at least own up to it."
A click of the tongue. "So you've just gone mad, then. No, Kosuke, none of that is true. I can only assume that that's a cover story this pervert came up with, or you're taking Olympian leaps in logic to try and blame me for this somehow."
Hikaru scoffs, disgusted. Amaya gives him a scathing look, but he meets it without flinching.
Kosuke sighs—disappointed but not surprised. "So you're sticking to your guns."
"As offended as I am, Kosuke, I'm worried about you. You're having some sort of episode." Amaya turns to Kyoya, and everything about her softens. She puts a hand on his arm. "Kyoya, talk to her. Make her see reason."
Kyoya snatches his arm away from her like she's contaminated. Amaya probably would have responded with hurt surprise, but Kosuke cuts in: "Before you stage an intervention..."
She pulls a phone from her pocket and holds it up. Amaya looks between it and her and exasperatedly asks, "And what is that, exactly?"
"Kenji's s phone. I figured since this was a whole operation, you guys would need to stay in touch. But I looked, and I couldn't find any text messages, no call logs. I even looked on his social media to see if you talked there, but nothing."
"Ah, I see—you want to make sure it's the same for me?" Amaya scoffs a laugh and pulls her phone from her jacket pocket. "Here you go. You'll do a lot of searching for nothing—I have quite a few contacts."
"Oh, no. I don't need your phone. I found what I was looking for in the deleted folder." Kosuke flips the phone around so Kyoya and Amaya can both see. "See, when you delete your texts, your phone puts it all in a deleted folder. It stays there for thirty days and then deletes them for good—just in case you change your mind, you know. I don't know if you didn't know that or if you thought there was no need to since you would surely never get caught, but—Here we are!" Kosuke scrolls. "How do you get your texts to change fonts? I never figured that out."
It was impossible for Kyoya not to believe Kosuke since the moment she started talking, but just in case he needed any confirmation, Amaya is quiet. Not yet sweating bullets, but clearly calculating what she'll say next, something she so rarely has to do.
"I don't know why you came to the conclusion that that's me he was talking to, but I assure you it's probably from one of his friends. Looks like you have two degenerates targeting you, Kosuke, and I'm more than happy to help with that, but you have to understand that I have nothing to do with this."
"So if we traced this phone number—which is pretty easy, from what I've seen with the Ootori's police force—it definitely is not going to come back to a phone you have? Your service provider would have absolutely no records of you contacting Kenji?"
Amaya giggles. "No, Kosuke, even if you somehow did manage to get the legal order to get that information, you wouldn't find anything."
To which Kosuke nods, but not in any show of defeat. "I have to say, Amaya, this is...pretty desperate. Pretty psychotic. Even for you."
"Even for me? Now what could you mean by that?"
"Ah, let's see...Writing a whole play about you and Kyoya having a forbidden romance with me as the other woman, accusing me of cheating on Kyoya when I was meeting a friend for lunch, stealing my essay idea so I'd look like I was copying you—in general, antagonizing me from the day we met. Not that you needed me to say that, I just wanted to show that I am aware of what you're doing."
"The play? The essay?" Amaya turns to the others in the room, throwing her arms up. As said play demonstrated, she is quite an actor. Her outrage seems so real. "Are none of you hearing this? Am I the only one in this room that hasn't lost their senses? This is—utterly ridiculous!"
"Ridiculous?"
"Yes, Kosuke, I'm afraid you've lost all logic and reason—if you ever had any to begin with."
Head tipped to the side, Kosuke prods, "I think I'm being logical. I've explained everything pretty well."
"You really do believe that I've been persecuting you all this time. You've taken our every interaction and deluded yourself into making yourself a victim?"
"M'kay, but..." Kosuke jabs a thumb at Kenji. "He isn't a delusion."
"Everything that he has told you means nothing. He got caught and came up with a story, for some reason involving me, and you ate it up because you were hungry for it."
"I guess what I don't get is why that makes more sense than him telling the truth. Maybe you can break it down for me."
Amaya smiles sourly. "Very well. Let's review what you think I've done. You think that, in my latest act of cruelty, I called in a random former classmate that I just so conveniently happened to have dirt on. You think I had him create an entire website for the 'Aspiring Academic Society' and reach out to you like some sort of sting operation. And you think that we used secret messages to make up an elaborate scheme to dine you, wine you, snap some crude photos and randomly throw them on the internet in hopes of ruining your life. Tell me that doesn't sound crazy."
Kosuke waits a beat to make sure she's finished before speaking. "I never said it was called the Aspiring Academic Society."
Amaya's body tenses as though cold water had been dumped over her head. They're all watching her.
"I..." Amaya clears her throat, smiles. "I heard it through the grapevine, Kosuke. Our classmates are my friends, too."
"Except their was no grapevine, because I only told one person about it—" Here Kosuke nods at Kyoya. "—and I guarantee he never told you."
Amaya's eyes flicker through the room, gauging her audience, seeking exits. Kyoya swears he can almost see her heart bashing against her chest.
Whatever salvation she seeks, she doesn't find it.
At long last, Amaya holds her hands up—fed up with all of them. "I don't have to stand here and listen to your fairytales. We've known each other for so long, Kyoya, surely you don't—"
"Shut up."
It hits her almost physically. Amaya flinches, finally bearing the full brunt of Kyoya's anger without any 'propriety' to hold him back.
Jaw wired shut, Amaya storms up to Hikaru, still leaning against the door. "Get out of the way."
"Why? Running late to another boudoir shoot with a roofied girl?"
"You have five seconds to step out of the way before I call the police."
"Hey, they can give us a legal order for your phone, right?" Kosuke asks chipperly.
Amaya turns, shaking, trapped. "What do you want? An apology? Did you bring me here just so you could monologue? I hope you enjoyed it, because no one is ever going to believe you over me—any of you over me."
Kosuke walks ever-so-leisurely to the front end of the bed and reaches between the many plush pillows.
She pulls out a video camera. The red light is blinking.
"They probably will once they see this."
The last threads of Amaya's confidence snap.
Even though her face has already gone static, her eyes have gone dull, devastated. She's wilting. It's like her whole body is rejecting the concept of losing.
"Hikaru, Kaoru." The twins rip their venomous glares off Amaya at Kosuke's voice. "Can you take Kenji out and makes sure he finds his way out of the hotel?"
"You want to let him go?" Kaoru balks, even though he and Hikaru are already hauling Kenji up to his wobbly feet. "Don't you want to take him to the police? File a report on him?"
"You haven't even hit him yet," adds Hikaru. "Come on, you at least have to break a femur."
The red light dims and the previewer on the camera closes. Kosuke waves them on. "I've got plans, trust me."
The twins are still grumbling as they undo the binds around Kenji's wrists and feet, but they do obey. In a moment, they've dragged him out of the room. The last thing Kyoya hears before the door shuts is Kaoru scoffing, "Stop crying, creep."
Leaving just Kosuke, Kyoya, and Amaya in the hotel room—though Kyoya is certain at least one of the twins is posted by the door. Amaya isn't even looking at them anymore. She's leering off in the distance, still audacious enough to be angry.
"Kyoya." Kosuke jerks her chin at Amaya. "Say what you want to say."
It's like she's asked him about a papercut when she's been sliced a hundred times over. "What?"
"You're owed it. Go ahead."
He knows what she means, then. Amaya had used him as the catalyst. This is all because of her obsession—not with him, but with getting him. All this, and everything else, because Kyoya is nothing more than a thing that Amaya wants and will not be denied whether he likes it or not.
In solitude, Kyoya can finally look at her with all the revulsion she's earned. And speak, but what could he possible say that she'll hear from the planet she lives on? Nothing.
"This is going to be the last time that I see you. You will not so much as talk to Kosuke ever again. Do you understand me?" Of course, Amaya doesn't answer. "Answer the question. Do you understand me?"
"Yeah, I heard you."
He may regret it, but because this will be his last chance, Kyoya asks, "Can you just tell me why."
Amaya smiles something foul, sarcastic, humorless. "Because you're just so proud of yourself."
Ah, yes. The 'he just won't admit he's in love with me' train of thought. "I hate you. You disgust me."
"I'm aware. The feeling's mutual."
She couldn't have given a more confusing answer if she'd spoken in tongues. Kosuke briefly takes her eyes off of Amaya to meet Kyoya's—just as confused, and just as unwilling to open Pandora's box by asking for clarification.
"Just for the record." Amaya sticks up a finger...and points it at him. "This is all your fault."
"Is it."
"I was willing to give it a second chance. Then all of a sudden, Mr. Anything for My Family decides to get picky. You...you ruined everything. So yes, Kyoya, this is all your fault, because if you hadn't been so selfish—"
The sound of Kosuke's palm striking Amaya's cheek rings off the walls.
The tirade dies in a gasp of pain. Amaya's hand comes to her flaming-red cheek, tears struck into her eyes.
There are no more words in the century it takes for Amaya to pull herself upright again, mouth in a razor-thin line. Kosuke has her back to Kyoya, and he's sure her expression is furious, but Amaya faces it blankly.
After a moment of consideration, Kosuke strikes Amaya's other cheek as well. Kyoya steps forward—not for Amaya's sake.
"What you almost did to me, I hope never happens to you."
There are no other words. Amaya leaves.
The door clicks shut behind her. Kosuke looks down at her pinkened palms, wriggling her fingers. "Mm. That smarts."
It would be a lie to say that Amaya is now out of sight and out of mind. The terror of it all remains, and for years to come it'll return when memories creep in unwanted.
Kyoya keeps it all in. He reaches for Kosuke, cradling her head in his hands, searching for...anything. Any sign of hurt.
He hardly gets two syllables out before Kosuke grabs his wrists, not pulling them away but keeping them still, holding his attention. "Don't. I'm fine. Nothing happened. Don't think about the what-ifs."
He'd say the same in her shoes. Well-intentioned and worthless. What if. Had Kosuke not asked about the tea, had she not called the twins. Had Kenji not opened the door. What if. What if. What if.
Kyoya is supposed to say something, he just...can't.
"Hey. Hey." Kosuke moves her hands up and places them over his. She's wearing the ring he'd gotten her, he sees. "We're here now, and nothing happened, and everything is going to be okay. Look at me. Be with me."
Someone moves forward first. Him or her, in the end they still embrace each other with bruising strength. His hands are shaking. She says nothing of it.
Kyoya graduates. It's just another day marked off on the calendar.
The twins must inform the others of what transpired, because they all check in—only through Kyoya. Care, he notices, becomes quieter when the gravity is greater. Some things are just so awful that you hate to mention it at all, even if it's to comfort. They're all reacting in their own ways and will come to her in time.
The only exception is Haruhi, whom Kosuke has an hour-long phone call with that night, and who would have been at the mansion in a heartbeat if Shigeo allowed it. Kyoya loves her for being at Kosuke's side, and he hates that the world has made it so she can comfort Kosuke through shared experiences.
Kyoya watches Kosuke closely in the days that follow, even acknowledges the incident as faintly as possible. When has Kyoya ever experienced anything even remotely close to what she has? When Amaya almost kissed him during the play? Kyoya has never had to fear the mere possibility of his body being violated, and the fear itself is something scarring even if it goes unfulfilled.
So he watches, and he checks in. Kosuke is more horrified than anything else, she says, that Amaya would ever think to do such a thing. Kenji hardly got near her before the twins intervened, but Kosuke came out of it no less angry and revolted.
Even so, Kosuke takes comfort in him and her friends, the knowledge that they were there and she was safe. It makes her feel loved, she says. Protected.
Eventually, Kyoya sees her desire to move past it, and he helps the best that he can. The next time she visits his apartment, he vows not to bring it up. And he doesn't.
But, while they're on the sofa, stretched out with their books, and she asks him to reach into her bag for her bubblegum, Kyoya finds the video camera and looks at it just long enough for Kosuke to notice.
"Do you think maybe you could keep that here?" she asks, very casually. "I'm wary about keeping it at the mansion, in case Shigeo tosses my room again."
Kyoya goes to the entertainment center and tucks it into a drawer. His fingers have a phantom...sliminess, like the camera is something filthy. "Are you sure you don't want to turn it in to the authorities?"
She sighs. "I thought about it. Don't get me wrong, she deserves it. But, as long as I have it, I know she won't even think of bothering me again. Plus, I just...don't want to deal with all of it, you know? The scandal. Everyone talking about it."
Talking about me, she adds silently. It is no one's choice but hers, so Kyoya says nothing more of it.
"You're to thank for that, you know." While Kyoya returns to his place on the sofa, she explains, "Haruhi told me about what happened with the Newspaper Club, you recording them. When I was calling you, it gave me the idea to set up the camera."
"It was good thinking, and I refuse to take credit for it."
"Hey." Kosuke marks her page and sets her book in her lap, pinning him down with just her gaze. "You're not still feeling bad about it, are you?"
Kyoya's teeth grind. They should be filed to nubs, for how often he's been doing it lately. "It's impossible not to. If it weren't for me—"
"No. Nuh-uh. Wrong. Incorrect." Kosuke pushes herself up and to him, knees almost touching his thighs. "This has only ever been about Amaya. Not you. Not me. Just her."
Lips pursed, he nods.
"Say it."
Kyoya takes a deep breath. "It has only ever been her."
"Good." She pushes herself up onto her knees to kiss his forehead and stays there after, lips against his hairline. "She isn't going to do anything to you or me again. It's over."
She's been doing this every day since the incident, always making sure that he is part of the conversation, too, that what Amaya has done to him is not unnoticed. It has taken quite a while for Kyoya to accept it without guilt. As if sympathy is a finite source and it should all be Kosuke's.
For himself and her, Kyoya wraps his arms around her, buries his face into her neck. After a minute he pulls away enough to kiss her, gently, until she puts her forehead against his and their noses brush.
"Touch me more?"
It's a request for sanctuary. That's what their moments of intimacy have become, where they can focus on each other and only each other, and let everything go for just a short while.
Kyoya obediently trails his lips down to her chin, along her jawline, to the spot behind her ear that he loves so much. He'll spare her more marks, but he mouths along her throat, too, and her collarbone, down to the neckline of her shirt. All he needs in return are her sighs, soft and satisfied. His hands wander along her back to relish the way she arches into him. Closer, closer.
Something honey-thick and -sweet is filling him. Not quite desire, because that would be for him. He doesn't want her, he wants for her. To feel safe. Loved. Adored. Wanted. He wants her to know that she's so much more than something to be worried over, the exact thing she'd feared becoming.
So he slips his thumbs under the hem of her shirt and brushes them along her warm skin, asks, "Can I go further?"
She pauses.
"I...went to the doctor last week."
Kyoya pulls back, confused. "Alright?"
"I'm on BC now, but since I just started I don't know if it would work. So, if you want to...Well. Do you have condoms? In the bedroom, maybe?"
"That's..." Huffing a laugh, Kyoya slips his thumb back out and places his hands on her hips, lightly. "I didn't mean that much further. Not yet."
"Oh. So...?"
Kyoya rubs the pink fabric of her skirt between his thumb and forefinger. Kosuke knows more about these things—his wounded pride has made peace with that—but how much, he doesn't know. He doesn't want to find out where her boundaries are by pushing past them. Especially not now.
The hickeys he'd given her have faded to shadows now. You'd have to know they were there to see them. Kosuke watches, curious, as he ghosts his fingertips along them.
"I'd like to do more of this, if you'd allow me."
"Oh, yeah. That's fine." She sounds confused—Why so cautious for something he's done before? But to help him out, she undoes the top button of her shirt. "Just not too high, okay? I barely convinced Haruhi I burned myself with my curling iron last time."
"I'll give you more of those, but I'd like to do more things with you." He pauses, thinking over his words. "To you."
She blinks at him. Her blush does not burn as red as it used to. Each step further into intimacy makes it a little less daunting. Brushing a wayward lock of hair out of her face is the only other indication of nerves.
"Are you sure?" she asks.
"Yes, but obviously only if you want to—"
"Yeah, yeah. Yeah. It's fine."
"'Fine'?"
"Yeah, it's fine. I'm comfortable."
He taps a finger on her knee. "Could you give me something more than 'fine'?"
Kosuke huffs and crosses her arms, though she stays where she is. "I knew you would have a thing for teasing."
"'Fine' is too reluctant. I need more than that."
"It's—okay. I'm okay with this. I'm—Hey." When Kyoya leans back, Kosuke leans forward. "I don't know what else to say. I am okay with this."
Kyoya's not taking any chances. He'd rather throw himself off the balcony than do anything she merely accepts.
He doesn't budge. Kosuke lets out a deep sigh, then takes in a deep breath.
"I want you to."
That's more like it. Pleased, a bit too much, Kyoya prods, "You do?"
"Yes." Her hand flits across her mouth. "Please."
Even though that ignites his nerves, urges him to move and touch and taste, Kyoya keeps himself in check. They're both going to savor this.
"Stand up."
She does. Waiting for his next instruction, she looks at the now-empty side of the couch and the open bedroom door. He hasn't moved.
Kyoya falls against the backrest of the couch and shifts his legs apart, leaving ample space between them. Just for convenience's sake, he rolls his sleeves of his button-up to his elbows."Sit down."
Kosuke frowns. No doubt about to point out that she just was sitting down. "The other way, with your back to me."
She sits between his knees; but still curious, she stays rather close to the edge. Kyoya winds his arms around her middle, gently encouraging, "Lean against me."
Kosuke pushes herself backwards, hands on his knees, until her back settles against his chest. It takes a moment for her to position herself just right, and then she relaxes, tilting her head back just enough so he can see part of her face. Her hair tickles his neck. As always, there's the sweet smell of her peach shampoo.
"Are you comfortable?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Now..." He rests his hands on her thighs—now perfectly between his. "Show me what you like."
Chapter Summary:
Kosuke is taking the aftermath of the Competition surprisingly well. Meanwhile, Amaya is elated and has only increased her unwanted flirtations toward Kyoya. Shigeo forces Kosuke to drop out of her culinary classes, and while searching for a new club or class, she's reached out to by a representative from a student-led student society. While she meets with him, Kyoya is pulled into a dinner with Amaya to celebrate his graduation. The meeting stops short when Kyoya gets a call from Kosuke telling him and Amaya to come to her. Kosuke reveals that the "representative" was actually an old classmate of Amaya's that she was blackmailing. Her intention was for him to get Kosuke drunk, take indecent pictures of her, and post them on social media. Thankfully the plan is ruined, and with evidence of her actions, Kosuke and Kyoya successfully get Amaya to leave them be. It's an emotionally exhausting event, but Kyoya and Kosuke are there for each other after. Kosuke and Kyoya go further into physical intimacy.