Chapter Text
The Kubo estate loomed ahead, its sprawling gardens glowing under the soft light of lanterns strung between ancient oak trees. Fountains sparkled like liquid silver, and guests in elaborate suits and gowns flowed toward the grand entrance in a cascade of color and laughter.
Haruhi adjusted a thin ribbon on her gown as she stepped out of the carriage with the Host Club. Her gaze swept over the grandeur before them—a scene right out of a storybook, yet tinged with an undercurrent of tension that she couldn't ignore.
Two families, alike in power and pride, divided by ambitions too vast to reconcile. The Ootori and Kubo rivalry was something Haruhi had only heard about in passing, yet today she could feel its weight pressing against the air.
Tamaki strode ahead, his golden cufflinks catching the light as he beamed at the passing guests. "Let's lay low today, we don't want to cause a scene," he whispered.
The twins followed close behind, their steps perfectly mirrored as they shared knowing smirks. "I wonder," Hikaru began.
"...if Kyoya's already inside," Kaoru finished.
At the mention of his name, Haruhi glanced over her shoulder. Kyoya hadn't come with them—at least not officially. She worried about his attendance and hoped he did the right thing by not showing up. Though, she already knew he hadn't.
"Of course he's inside," Haruhi muttered under her breath. "Kyoya isn't the type to sit back and let someone else control the narrative."
Behind the glittering facade of the estate, a shadow moved. Kyoya adjusted the cuffs of his sleek black suit. His every step was calculated, his movements silent as he found a side entrance to the estate.
The Host Club made their way through the towering gates, their vibrancy standing out among the muted elegance of the other guests. Haruhi hesitated, letting the others drift ahead as she lingered just outside the main doors. The air here felt different, heavy with expectation. She glanced back at the garden, wondering how the day would unfold.
Beneath the surface of the wedding's glamour, secrets were already in motion. Haruhi couldn't shake the feeling that something else was waiting in the wings, something unplanned and uncontrollable.
She had sensed it from the start. She should have put a stop to it the moment she realized a story was beginning to unravel, woven from rivalry and deception, truth and desire. Haruhi took a steadying breath and stepped inside, her thoughts following Kyoya, wherever he was.
She had to think quickly before he did something stupid. Maybe she should start from the beginning, so that she could understand how this mess came to be.
...
Shoes clicked at the end of the hall. A girl in brown overalls, a white shirt, and a blue bandanna walked slowly with a handful of petunia flowers. She stopped in front of her father's office and was about to enter before hearing voices inside. She hesitated before pressing her ear against the wooden door.
Her father's study was a portrait of quiet power, with towering shelves of leather-bound books and the faint scent of cedar lingering in the air. Mr. Kubo sat behind an imposing mahogany desk, his posture as straight and unyielding as the man himself. His sharp eyes studied the young man seated across from him, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Ayame's fiancé, Riku, was every bit the image of a promising ally—a composed and ambitious boy of a wealthy industrial family. His tailored suit was immaculate, and he held his gaze steady, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his unease under Mr. Kubo's scrutiny.
"I trust you're finding everything to your satisfaction, Riku," he began, his tone polite but tinged with an edge that dared the younger man to falter.
"Yes, sir," he replied with a small nod. "Your home is extraordinary. The preparations for the ball are... impressive, to say the least."
Mr. Kubo leaned back slightly, folding his hands over his stomach. "Good. Tomorrow night is an important occasion for our family—and for you. I trust you understand the weight of what we're working toward."
Riku nodded again, his voice steady. "I do. Strengthening the bonds between our families will be beneficial to both sides. Ayame and I are aligned in our commitment to that goal."
The older man's smile deepened, though it was far from warm. "You speak like a man who knows his duty. That's good. But I need more than words. I need assurance that my daughter's future—and the Kubo name—will be secure under your care."
Riku hesitated, the unspoken test in Mr. Kubo's tone hanging heavily in the room. "With all due respect, sir, Ayame is more than capable of ensuring her own success. She's intelligent, poised, and—"
"And she's my daughter," he interrupted, his voice low but firm. "Which means her ambitions must align with the family's. Ayame understands this, as should you."
Riku straightened in his chair. "Of course. I would never suggest otherwise."
Mr. Kubo's piercing gaze softened slightly, though his words remained calculated. "Good. I've made sacrifices to see this family thrive, Riku, and I expect the same dedication from you."
The young man swallowed hard but met the older man's gaze. "I won't let you down."
Mr. Kubo nodded, seemingly satisfied for the moment. He rose from his seat, the act itself a dismissal. "I'll hold you to that."
...
Mrs. Kubo reclined gracefully on an ornate chaise longue, her emerald-green kimono shimmering in the candlelight. Across from her, her daughter, Ayame, sat stiffly, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
"You must understand, Ayame," she said, her tone firm yet laced with affection. "This engagement is an opportunity."
Ayame nodded, though her expression remained composed. "Yes, Mother. I understand."
Mrs. Kubo's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Good. The Ootori family's reach has grown unchecked for far too long. This is our chance to elevate ourselves and solidify alliances with families who respect our values."
Ayame's brow furrowed slightly. "I just wish that I was engaged to someone I loved."
"Love?" her mother interjected sharply, "marriage isn't about love. Do you think your father and I like each other?"
"Surely you must. Just a little."
"Of course not."
Ayame hesitated, then lowered her gaze. "I see."
Mrs. Kubo rose from her seat and crossed the room, her movements graceful and deliberate. She placed a hand on Ayame's shoulder. "Remember, the right impression can secure not only your future but our family's legacy. A single conversation, a single dance—these things can change everything."
Ayame looked up at her mother, her eyes betraying the faintest hint of doubt. Her mother patted her overalls. "Now go change before you're late for school. No one likes a girl in rags," she declared as she exited the room.
She nodded once more, though her thoughts lingered on the Ootori family. She had yet to understand the boiling hatred between the two families. She couldn't bare the thought of someone hating her so much. They didn't even know her.
She had seen the Ootori boy at school but hadn't seen the conniving snake her family was always speaking of. To her, Kyoya Ootori was just like any other boy. He was like her, caught in the middle of a web created long before their birth. She didn't hate him. She couldn't. Because if she did, she would be just like them.
She had only spoken about him indirectly a few times, referring to him only as Mr. Ootori. He returned the favor, only referring to her as Miss Kubo. Besides this mutual understanding, they rarely ran in the same circles. Her family made sure of that.
Though her nativity was clear, she was no fool. She knew better than to cross her father. Her eyes traveled to the magnificent garden on the Kubo estate. She loved that garden. It was her sanctuary. She had planted almost every single flower blooming lusciously that spring. Her heart sank as she remembered her father scolding her for it.
No daughter of his would be a florist. From an heiress to the help, it would be an embarrassment to the Kubo name. No, it was better to be somebody's wife. She stood from her seat and wandered to the hallway to follow her mother's instructions.
Maybe she could grow to love Riku. He didn't seem like a terrible man. After all, what choice did she have?
...
The courtyard of Ouran Academy was alive with the sound of students passing between classes. The sun cast long shadows across the cobblestones, and a gentle breeze stirred the air, ruffling the leaves of nearby trees. Among the throngs of students, a group of boys lingered near the fountain, their perfectly tailored uniforms a stark contrast to the informal chatter around them. They stood apart from the other students, their postures too confident, too poised, as if the world around them existed merely to serve their presence.
Hikaru and Kaoru were the first to notice them—a group of students from the Kubo family. The twins exchanged a knowing glance, their smiles sharp, their eyes narrowed with a mixture of amusement and challenge.
Hikaru's voice cut through the air, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of mockery. "Well, well. Look who decided to show up. Did your master send you to spy on us, or is this your idea of fun?"
Kaoru joined in, his voice smooth and effortless, the teasing note in his words unmistakable. "Careful, Hikaru. They might actually think they stand a chance against us."
The Kubo students, who had been loitering near the fountain, now turned their full attention to the twins. Nico, the leader of their group, stepped forward. He was tall and sharp-featured, his eyes cold with disdain. He crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles of his jaw tightening in irritation.
"Big talk for the Ootori lap dogs," Nico spat, his voice low but edged with contempt. "Did Kyoya forget to leash you this morning, or are you just getting bold without his little shield?"
The insult was meant to sting, but Hikaru and Kaoru only smirked deeper. There was no fear in their eyes—only the thrill of a challenge. The crowd around them began to take notice, sensing the tension building between the two groups. The air grew heavier, more charged with the anticipation of what might come next.
Hikaru leaned in slightly, the corners of his lips curling into a wicked smile. "At least we don't need to hide behind a family name to feel important," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe you should try it sometime."
Kaoru, his expression just as icy, added, "What's the point of that crest on your blazer if it doesn't even give you the courage to stand on your own?"
The insult landed like a blow, but Nico merely clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing. "You're playing a dangerous game, you brats. If you want to throw insults, we can throw something else."
The tension was palpable, the growing conflict hanging in the air like a storm about to break. Just as the first words of challenge were about to be exchanged, a voice rang out across the courtyard, clear and unmistakable.
"Enough!"
Tamaki appeared, seemingly from nowhere, his usual dramatic flair in full swing. He strode forward, hands held out in a grand gesture, his eyes wide with earnestness. "This is a place of peace and refinement! We are scholars and gentlemen, not common street brawlers!"
He looked to the twins, who exchanged a small, exasperated glance, before turning to the Kubos. "We must not solve our disagreements through violence. Surely, we can sit down over tea and discuss our differences like civilized men?"
Hikaru muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. "Of course Tamaki would try to turn this into a tea party."
Kaoru, ever the accomplice, added, "Leave it to Tamaki to offer tea as the solution to everything."
Nico didn't seem impressed. His eyes flicked to Tamaki with barely contained disdain. "Stay out of this, Suoh. This isn't your business," he said, his voice dripping with venom.
Before the situation could devolve into something more heated, Mori appeared silently at Tamaki's side, his towering presence a stark contrast to the prince-like figure of the Host Club president. Honey followed, his bunny in tow, his bright smile lighting up the tension like a burst of sunlight through clouds.
"Hey, what's going on?" Honey asked, looking up at the two groups with innocent curiosity. "Are we having a party?"
Nico's gaze flickered briefly to Mori, who was standing so close to Tamaki that it was clear the stoic third-year could step in at a moment's notice if things got out of hand. A flicker of unease crossed his face, and the rest of his group seemed to hesitate.
"Fine," he muttered, his pride too bruised to continue. He gave a short, dismissive gesture, signaling his group to step back. "This isn't over," he warned, though his voice lacked conviction.
With that, the Kubos slowly retreated, their eyes shooting one last glare in the direction of the Host Club.
Tamaki, never one to miss an opportunity to bask in glory, spread his arms wide. "Ah, once again, peace is restored by your King!"
Hikaru scoffed, crossing his arms. "It was Mori's glare, not your speech, that did the trick."
Kaoru snorted. "And probably Honey's bunny. No one can resist that."
Kyoya, who had been silently observing from a distance, stepped forward, adjusting his glasses with his usual composed air. "The day has barely begun, and already we're embroiled in another pointless conflict," he said, his voice laced with mild exasperation. "Peace must be restored between our two families."
The twins exchanged a look, knowing full well that Kyoya was already planning something in his head, some quiet maneuver that would ensure the Ootori's remained unchallenged. As always, Kyoya would come out on top—though this time, it was clear that his strategy might not involve any grand gestures or speeches. Just quiet, calculated moves.