Chapter XI-Aftermath is so embarrassing!

The feeling of all the lights in the Big Apple of New York City all being broken at once was the sole emotion Renge and a vast majority of the Ouran Host Club customer population was swept by at the sight of Haruhi's erm, proof of being a girl and the sight of her long hair which she had unraveled from beneath the swimming cap that cloaked every strand of it, save for the few rebellious streaks that fell into her large caramel brown eyes. (sorry for the confusion, mcangel1976-chan!) In fact the newly polished pool floors seemed to be cloaked by a new wall-to-wall rug of passed out teenage girls!

Tamaki and Hikaru weren't faring much better as their noses quite literally bled from the rare exposure of her cleavage. The two of them both turned a ghostly, unearthly pallor before promptly fainting and their souls floating away as Kaoru 'innocently' pulled out a mop and trash bin set and swept up the crumbled bodies of both his upperclassman and older twin brother before swiftly dumping them both into the nearest trash can, watching with great satisfaction as one of them let out a pathetic groan after the heavy automatic lid swung shut. He may be the sweet twin when alone, but these two had brought out his vinegar dashed side themselves. Payback for messing with Chika and Haruhi's relationship.

Both Kyouya and Satoshi had pulled out their video cameras the second Haruhi had begun loosening up the flimsy ties on her cotton robe and were both evilly grinning and chuckling at the whole spectacle which had taken place all in a supposed former music room. Their black hair, dark auras alike to underworld god Hades/Pluto, and tall intimidating heights made the two look like mirror images rather than mere coworkers whom had suffered the misfortune of being roped into one crazy extracurriculum.

Honey and Mori looked at each other before sighing and trying to gather up the attention from the heart stopped customers. "Haru-chan is a girl who was literally forced into joining the Host Club due to her debt,"was a successful enough line to revive the 'lost' souls of the airheaded flirtatious heiresses who all squealed like hyenas before standing back upright faster than the time it took to finish a caramel hard candy.

"What was Fujioka-san's debt? Did this happen at the beginning of last year? No wonder she can relate to us so well!"

Haruhi smiles gently, nervously before Chika squeezes her hand gently and pecks her cheek gently which earns another expected high pitched squeal coming from every corner and segment of the renovated room and a deep frown from Kyouya as he turns off his Polaroid camera and pulls out a pocket-sized version of his ever trusty black notebook and scribbles down a brief note of deleting that twelve second part from his data later on. His thin oval shaped eye glasses are pushed up further as a familiar piercing glare appears to cover over his inverted emotions as he picks up his book bag and slides the door shut. His father had called him earlier for a meeting and from the rushed tone of his voice and the fact that Akito-aniki was involved was definitely not a good sign.

Back to the swimming pool area Haruhi was repeatedly apologizing for her deceit and bowing at a perfect ninety degree angle as her interrogation continues.

"I never wanted to deceive any of you but due to my debt and the fact that I'm a member of the host club I had no other choice but to conceal the truth. Please forgive me and I hope we can continue being friends!" She blattered out quickly, fluidly as Chika gently held her hand with one while rubbing the pad of his calloused thumb over her open palm in a soothing manner while Momoka and the others look on and swoon over again.

"Of course we do, Haruhi-chan! In fact its rather romantic to hear of your reverse fairytale and we will still visit you each day after hours!" The customers all squealed, whispering among each other excitedly at having unveiled the reason Haruhi seemed so much more mature and compatible with girls' genuine feelings. She was one of the only hosts that didn't need an outer character to attract attention.

Tamaki sputters half consciously from his place in the trash heap beneath the 'heavy' weights of both Kaoru and Hikaru. His skin is still a deathly white pallor from his earlier eyeful. "Shame on me, daddy, for leering at daughter in such a shameful manner…"

Hikaru stirs slightly only to slug out, "Even though you are a perv, Haruhi still isn't your blood daughter and never will be."

~time skip~~switch the scenery props~~~hurry! Hurry!~~

Kyouya exits his father's study, head serious contemplating over what his father had said. "You will bring that lovely young lady Fujioka back into your grasp, regardless of the cost. Or forfeit the right to be my successor and watch your older brothers claim the empire."

The currently third year was still flabbergasted at how easily he'd screwed up, not only in his now burned romantic relationship but also in his other friendships and breaking the promise to his late mother. Even if that large six by twelve feet masterful oil painting of deceased Lady Tori Makizawa-Ootori didn't hang in blunt fashion in the midst of the foyer of the Ootori manner this piercing guilty feeling would still be just as dagger sharp. He remembered well the last time he had spoken to her on her deathbed, despite the fact that it had already been twelve years ago….

(twelve years previous to story…)

Eldest daughter to the Makizawa household Tori knew that her time was up, just like the elder tree in the backyard that she'd tended to each day. Her unknown illness stumped even the most professional doctors her close-knit husband employed and she knew her passing would near destroy him. But this pain, pain of slowly dying this past two years was too much, like a burning, smoldering fire that slowly corroded her, starting with her brain and moving south.

She lay limply, swathed beneath the freshly washed lily-of-the-valley white blankets even in mid April. Her long waist length normally naturally curly pale brown hair hangs limply as it spreads out widely over the fluffed pillows and over her shallowly breathing mortal body as her almond shaped gray blue eyes stare at the ceiling which is painted with an elaborate mural of her favorite Amazon jungle done not by a stuffy artisan privately hired to do mostly portraits but by her only daughter, Fuyumi, who is surprisingly proficient with a number eight paintbrush even though she is tragically incompatible with a spatula in the kitchen or folding laundry.

Tori calls for Kyouya who slips in timidly as if afraid of disturbing the tranquil atmosphere that heaven destined as his mother's departure day.

Outside the tense atmosphere life was renewing itself after the long winter that had been perceived by the groundhog's shadow earlier two months. This wasn't right, it should be so beautiful and lively outside while his frail mother withered away like a picked peony. Even his six, almost seven-year-old mind could register that she was only thirty three, still very young and too early to pass on to the next life.

Despite the numerous pains that seem to equal to childbirth contractions, Tori smiles gently at her youngest before beckoning him closer to sit beside the night table littered with countless get well cards and floral ikebana, even some from Akito and Yuuichi. The simple pink and peach carnations with a few sprigs of baby's breath is labeled from 'Fuyumi' and it is clear that from both the arrangement and the painted wall that while she is inept in household duties that she could have been an artist as talented as Juan Gris. Maybe in the next life.

Tori clasps her son's arms gently as she cuts off one of her long side bangs and places it in his tiny chubby hand before whispering, "My son, I'm sure that you know as well that I'm tired. Tired of enduring such agonizing pain each day that this illness wrecks its hellstring havoc upon me. I will miss you, your father, and your older siblings very much, but this isn't a goodbye. On the contrary it's a promise." She coughs up a bit of fresh blood upon the new bed sheets much to the horror of Kyouya, but continues speaking, albeit faintly.

"Please, please promise me that above all you will be true to the girl you will find yourself romantically attracted to in the future….you never know when it will all come down to this," she gestures weakly at the bloodstain rapidly drying upon the mattress cover. "Life is not a burden to endure, but a precious...t-treasure..that must be cherished to the fullest." She then uses her last real strength to ease Kyouya in the direction of the gapping door.

"Go. A child, no matter….. how old he or s-she is, should not be made to watch their parent..l-leave...this earth." And that is the last time the canary cried, the last time Kyouya had ever seen his mother. Her coffin was covered when he attended the funeral on a cloudy, dreary day….

(cue fade to black)\

Kyouya fingered the clear pendant he wore beneath the layered pullover and containing the blonde brown lock of hair, held close to his heart like the vintage charms England had. For several reasons he'd never confided in his best friend what his mother's parting had been like. It was funny how the master tactician had one final secret none would know, learn, hear of. Fuyumi was not aware of this either though he suspected she had a lock of their mother's hair as well, from the way she sometimes touched the base of her throat in a melancholy manner…

(A/n):Another chapter out there in the open...sorry its rather short. I got caught up in watching the new 3D movie, 'Jurassic World' this weekend and it was awesome! I loved the dramatic action genre and the humorous relationship the brothers patched back up between themselves. And I watched the last few episodes of 'Akame Ga Kill!' and I found the ending, erm, bittersweet. No spoilers though its a definitely a 24-episode anime worth watching. My favorite characters are Akame, Lubbock, Tatsumi, Sayo, and Najenda.