The Shadow King's Ultimate Test

Ashia Shinishiki is the daughter of a rival medical company to the Ootori's. Both companies decide to work together, and set about for an arranged marriage. Ashia must be able to endure the Host Club's Shadow King, and the drama that will ensue. A first-person romance between my original character and Bisco Hatori's (author of Ouran)

Please endure the lack of honorifics, I know very little about them. It will take some adjusting. And the updating may be slow, as I wish to explore this manipulative relationship. It's a new form for me to experiment with, so bear with me please.

The First Test

I was nervous, as I sat on the airport seat. I wasn't quite certain of what to expect. I had been told that I would be meeting my possible-fiancé. I had never met him before, hardly even heard of him for that matter. My father was arranging it; he said that it would be a good marriage between my family and theirs. It would be good for both of us, so he said. Our family, the Shinishiki family, was the rival to the Ootori family in the medical industry. We had been known for our extended rages which rocked both companies. Some wise person had stated that it would be better if the families worked together, and both men got the idea of marriage into their heads.

However, both of them did want to ascertain that there was some compatibility between myself and the youngest Ootori. My father at the very least was willing to pull the marriage proposal if there was no chance of compatibility. But I had to try, as did the gentleman I was about to meet. I felt a certain obligation to try. I wanted our companies to get along. There was no telling about what could be accomplished if the brightest medical minds could work together with the permission of both companies. I cared about the people, even if I didn't care about the man. Fair was fair, and I had to put the family's interests first. Whether I wanted to or not.

I looked up at the approaching figures. It was only one of the guards that I recognized. He had accompanied me here and then gone to find the youngest Ootori. I rose to my feet, bowing to the approaching figures. I straightened, and looked at them, feeling nervous apprehension gnawing at me.
He was handsome, but in a sort of cold, harsh beauty. His glasses hid his eyes, and his hair accentuated that fact. Clearly he didn't mind his glasses, though I would have expected a rich business man's son to wear contacts. But it was a personal choice, and I wasn't going to judge. He wore strangely simple clothes; a white shirt with a black jacket over his shoulder (apparently plane's were warmer than I thought they were) and gray pants. His clothing was of high quality, I could tell that at a glance, but it was still simple. That had to count for something.

"Shinishiki-san," he said, stiffly, formally.

"Ootori-san," I responded in kind, my tone also formal.

One of the four men surrounding the young man bowed to us and exited silently. I suspected that he was the driver. "You requested us to meet here?" he pressed.

"Yes, I thought it better for both of us to be far from our comfort zone." I paused at that point, measuring his unreadable expression, "Well further from our comfort zones, anyways."

"Seems reasonable," he remarked dryly. "Shall we go?"

I shook my head, finding his cool reasoning odd. But I had nothing against him. I had however been expecting Ootori-san to appear more like the others did. I had been expecting someone athletic and fashionable. Ootori-san looked like neither. He was certainly graceful, that was impossible to miss in his elegant and lengthy stride. I did not mind that he walked ahead, his long legs carrying him further than my own could. I fell just below the height of one hundred and sixty centimeters. By one centimeter. It was a sore spot of mine, and it was exceptionally annoying to notice that Ootori-san was nearly twenty centimeters taller than me.

He stopped by the black vehicle, holding the door open for me. I offered him a murmur of gratitude as I moved into the back of the jeep. I noticed that the seats were leather and also black and that the windows were tinted. I couldn't help but note the similarity. Ootori-san wore black clothing, his guards and driver all wore black suits and the car was black. Oh yeah, there was no way that we would ever stand out in a city so full of color (please note my sarcasm).

Ootori-san sat beside me, climbing in and shutting the door. For some reason, the small expanse of a car seemed even tinier. I couldn't help but glance at him and notice how much more room he took up. I smiled at him, summoning a pleasant aura from my happy place. It was necessary to portray a genuine happiness at all times, and to convince others of it as well. As a child, I had learned the art of fake smiles and how to make them appear genuine. My mother had taught me the trick to a genuine smile, which derived from my "happy place".

"Where to Shinishiki-san?" asked the chauffer.

I looked over at my companion, "Would you like lunch, by any chance?"

"I'm not all that hungry, to be honest," he said. "Ate on the way here."

A shame. "Is shopping something you're averse to?"

If I hadn't been watching him, I would have missed it. He rolled his eyes. I recognized it the emotion behind it. And it vexed me. I was not a shopaholic and I derived no pleasure from it either. I shopped because I had to; because there was something I wanted. I did not do it for fun. I did not find it a sport. By any means, it was not the first thing on my priority list. I was trying to find something he wanted to do, something that I could survive doing. Something that would bring bonding between us. Something to start, or finish, our possible relationship. We weren't even betrothed.

"I'll take that as a yes," I responded, eagerly cutting him off. I didn't need to hear him lie about it as well, or for him to label me more than he already had. "What would you like to do?" I asked pointedly. I was not going to accept a deflection from him. If he disagreed with my suggestions, then we could very well do it his way. I didn't care all that much.

His gray eyes stared through his glasses, his prominent features evident. He had a sharp jaw, long nose and fine eyebrows. His jet black hair fell to his defiant chin, his bangs cut shorter so that they did not impede his sight. The jacket he had previously been carrying rested on his lap, as he sat comfortably. His long legs stretched towards the seat in front of him, and still had to be bent. But he didn't complain another peculiarity about him. I had experience with other gentlemen, and they would have spared no moment of agonizing over their predicament.

"Why not a café?" he inquired, a calculating gleam in his eyes.

"You said you weren't hungry," I replied tightly.

"I'm not, but I suspect you are. Either way, it's a nice little place where we might converse easily."

I wanted to complain at this point. He was playing with me. And I loathed that, more than anything. My parents had manipulated me easily enough over the years, and I had seen it coming. But there was nothing I could do to prevent it. I let them maneuver me for years. Whenever there was something I didn't have to do, I avoided it. This however, was something I understood as being necessary. It wasn't just that, there was more, but if I delved into those feelings right now, I could remain with them and it wasn't the time. If I looked back at them, angry and rebellious feelings would engulf me.

I let Ootori-san give the directions to the café he wanted to go to. I wasn't surprised that he had known a place to go to –he had done his homework as well as I might have, were I in his place. The café was called Hino's Café and I entered it with Ootori-san at my side. We selected a table and a waiter came by, handing both of us a menu. I carefully looked over the menu, choosing what to eat based on what I thought seemed more appropriate for a young lady of my rank. A salad, mineral water and small vegetarian sandwich. I didn't need to watch my carbohydrate intake for any reason. I did daily exercise to keep in shape. Walks, jogging and some self-defense training so that if I was ever in trouble I wouldn't be completely defenseless, helped to keep me in shape.

When the waiter returned (I couldn't help but notice that compared to my companion, his appearance seemed rather dull, but that had little to do with any decision that I made) I gave my order to him. Ootori-san ordered a small cup of tea. The waiter left and we were alone. Well, figuratively speaking, we were alone. The café had a few customers in it. And our guards were present. They were sitting a few tables away, keeping us in sight while being discreetly out-of-sight.

Ootori-san folded his hands and looked across at him. I suddenly felt a little self-conscious and I struggled to defeat the urge to move my hair nervously. I wasn't about to let him beat me in something like this. I was not some meek, demure lady that he could order, control and predict as he wanted. I was an equal, and I knew that he did not see me as one. I would prove myself as one. I just hoped it wouldn't take too long.

"You attend Raiden Academy, correct?" he inquired, his eyes drilling into mine.

"I do," I replied easily. "And you attend Ouran, if I'm not mistaken?"

We settled for a moment, the strange sense of similarity between us echoing almost painfully. I had researched into his record a little. Just enough to know what he was allergic to, where he attended school and his grades. Nothing that was unavailable to the public eye. I obeyed the law. I had adequate technological skills, but I had no interest to increase them much further. I was a little worried that the temptation to do something illegal with it might strike me. And I didn't want that.

"That's true," he responded, recovering first. "I hear that you're not involved with any after-school activities."

"I used to be in the dance club," I stated.

"Why did you quit?" he almost sounded genuinely interested. Almost.

"I had other duties to deal with, at the time."

I didn't like his perceptive glance, it was beginning to give me chills. "You're enrolled in some activity called the Host Club?"

"Ah, yes, I am. Tamaki Suoh is the president," he said, as though I needed some reason to feel jealous of this fact. I was uninterested in business politics that did not involve the medical business. I wanted to focus solely on the medical companies, including the pharmaceutical ones. I was intending to be a doctor, or a business worker with the medical companies. I had yet to decide which I preferred more.

"Meaning you're the vice-president," I pointed out. He seemed to be avoiding labelling himself at all costs. Aside from being a cold-hearted person. I got that clearly from him.

"Manager," he supplied.

"Shouldn't the president handle that?" he was silent. I gathered his unwillingness to comply. I said nothing.

A waitress appeared, carrying a tray of our drinks. My mineral water, served in a glass, and his tea, in a small teacup. She bustled towards us, and I looked at my companion. I had been about to ask what the Host Club did, when icy coldness swamped me. I knew immediately what happened, as I sat there gasping with the frigidity of it. They kept their water cold. I was only dimly aware of her excessive apologies as I began to shiver. Stupid air conditioning. I didn't need to be any colder! And I most certainly didn't need to get sick.

"Do you have any towels?" Ootori-san was demanding, and I realized I was shivering. I felt something wet and slimy slip down my back, and I squeaked. Curses on all ice cubes! I jumped to my feet, hearing the ice cube splat against the seat.

"I-I think so," stammered the poor employee.

"Then get them!" he barked. Ootori-san was standing up, and as I shuffled from the wet seat and floor, I was aware of just how cold I was feeling. He wrapped his jacket around me before I could protest, while we waited for the towels. I wished that I could have been more persistent about refusing it, but I was too cold and it helped keep me warm.

When the waitress returned with several towels, Ootori-san took them from her and wrapped them around me. One wet around my wet head, absorbing the moisture from it while the others were set against my lap and chest. Ootori-san held onto his damp jacket, as I was bustled off to the washroom. Well, as far as first impressions go, mine could not be all that well. This was an exceptionally bad day. The waitress kept apologizing to me, but I was hardly aware of it until we entered the small room.

"It's alright," I finally snapped. "It was only water –an accident. Could have happened to anyone." But it happened to her, and thus to me. I was cold, and wet. I was going to leave here damp and I had no spare set of clothing to change into. This was only a day visit after all. I hadn't been intending to stay here and home was a few hours away. If I didn't get sick, I would be exceptionally grateful to my immune system.

I managed to get myself, and my clothes, as dry as I could. I was thankful that I had been wearing a dark shirt. It saved issues of transparency. Being as dry as manageable without being able to dry my clothes, had me still feeling chilled. Nothing could be done about it. I thanked the waitress, not particularly happily, but I did it anyways. I rejoined Ootori-san who handed me his jacket wordlessly. I saw irritation on his face. I suspected that he was the kind of person to make sure an employee got fired over an incident like this. I saw him look at me, about to say something. I cut him off first.

"It's fine. Let's just go." I didn't feel like eating anymore.