A/N: Well damn, people actually read it. Who would've thought?

Disclaimer: I ain't Bisco Hatori, I don't own shit.

"Ne, Haru-chan what's wrong?" The third year asked, his eyes wide with concern. The taller woman didn't have to answer, but did so by squeezing her hand tighter within her own. He knew she was scared, why she was scared, but he couldn't let that knowledge be known. He appeared oblivious to the sounds of feet crunching delicately into the snow—three men if he counted correctly, wait, make that four.

"It's getting cold isn't it? Let's go inside Haru-chan," he squeezed her hand in reassurance, his dark honey eyes looked up into her quivering brown ones. He smiled when his friend nodded, starting towards the small cafe. The scents of sweet castella cakes and holiday bread entered the cold atmosphere when she had opened the door. He held onto her hand then stopped upon hearing the sound of smooth steel clinging together.

"Haninozuka."

He could smell the alcohol on his breath, but didn't turn to look at the men behind him. Instead he gave her hand a tight squeeze, "Run Haruhi."

Machines alarmed as sensors were ripped off, I.V. solution splattered to the floor as the small form jumped from the hospital bed, ignoring the pain in his feet as they hit the cold floor. This was brief because he feet flew across the smooth surface as the door slid open with a thunderous clap, "HARU-CHAN," his small voice called out in anguish. His pitter-patter across the hall was silent even in his haste; he had to find her. Slamming his hands down on the nurses' station he growled, "Fujioka? Where is Fujioka Haruhi's room?" His voice was deep and his eyes dark. The young nurse, shocked by the young man's forwardness-and ability to be standing, seeing as until thirty seconds ago he had been in a comatose state-pointed her shaking arm down the hall.

"R-room Se-seven."

He didn't thank her as he stormed down the hall. The small form felt his momentum slow before he felt the hand on his shoulder. Turning his shoulder back towards the person he grabbed the wrist of the hand and bent his knees, throwing the body over his own. His dark eyes wouldn't turn to watch his younger cousin slam into, and skid across, the smooth floor. He wouldn't hear the chorus of gasps and the alarmed voice of Satoshi. He wouldn't feel his stitches rip open as he slammed open the door to Haruhi's room.

"Haru…"

He bed was empty. His eyes narrowed. He pivoted to turn and stopped, a breath catching in his throat, when his father's figure came before him, "Where is Haruhi?"

Yorihisa Haninozuka stood with his arms crossed in front of his eldest, albeit smallest, son, " Stop this, son." His lips fell into a thin line, his dark eyes not the unnatural color of his son's. They stood in silence. Neither made a move, nor spoke a word. Yorihisa could hear Satoshi outside with Yasuchika soft murmurs of idle dialogue. One cousin trying to comfort the other as he watched his elder brother in such a state. Disgraceful, Yorihisa thought in regards to Mitsukuni, making such a fuss over some common child.

Still the father stood calmly before his son, the son started shaking as his hands balled into fist; neither paid any heed to the dark liquid that slid through the son's fingers. The son took a step forward. The father did not move. The son grit his teeth and drew his hand back and released it with a snap of tendon, a slice through air, to hit a familiar hand. A hand not belonging to the father, not to the brother, but of course.

The cousin.

Long fingers gently closed upon the small hand, "Mitsukuni, you're bleeding." His deep voice seemed to calm the boy down some, though the form still shook, still bled.

"No…No, where is Haruhi," his voice tried to match his cousin's.

"Hn?" Takashi's grey eyes met his cousin's before flicking up to look at the empty bed, eyes widening ever slightly. It was then that he felt as if someone began to press down on his chest with their foot. Where was she? He would have known if something ha happened to her right? Someone would have told him. How serious were her injuries? He hadn't bothered to ask Kaoru in the hall. Where was her father? He had heard him clip-clop down the hall earlier, but was in in the waiting room? He couldn't remember. Crap. Blood was filling his palm.

Takashi could feel a familiar set of eyes on his back, but didn't turn to face him as he spoke. "Haruhi is getting out of surgery, you'll need to clear out," Kyouya said rather authoritatively, "The nurses will need to sterilize the room." And with that, he left as quickly as he had come.

Takashi swallowed the lump in his throat, exhaling the breath that burned his lungs. His eyes fell upon his older cousin and he murmured, "Come."

The boy set his jaw tightly and walked into Takashi's arms, allowing himself to fall into the bigger body. Takashi caught him and lifted the boy up, as he stood erect. Grey eyes would fall to the floor glancing at the smeared blood on the floor; they would flick up to meet his uncle's dark eyes before continuing past him and into the hall.

There was a small crowd outside of the room, he couldn't place faces but he knew who was there—just by presence. Feeling a wetness at his neck he held Mitsukuni firmer in his arms. It made him angry that he didn't know what was going on. It made him angry that his cousin shook in his arms, the soft sobs muffled by his neck. It made him angry that Mitsukuni was even here, that she was here. It made him angry that he hadn't bothered to think to see her, to ask about her in depth.

It angered him that even as his cousin-the most important thing in this world-cried and convulsed in his arms, he was thinking about her.

The nurses politely bowed as Yorihisa exited room number seven before entering to clean up the blood, the older man could see the small trail in the hall being cleaned up by another nurse and he sighed out loud. The small crowd of heirs, and with them Satoshi and Yasuchika, had moved down the hall following after Takashi, leaving only Akira and Yorihisa, "Such a ruckus."

Akira's arms slipped into his sleeves and smiled softly, "I remember a time when you were full of such passion, don't write off Mitsukuni just yet."

Yorihisa shrugged his shoulders softly, " Wasted passion, this common child will only be temporary. A passing fancy if you will."

Akira motioned his cousin to follow him as he walked, " This Fujioka girl is important to Mitsukuni, and Takashi. Even Satoshi has taken a liking to her," he paused softly, "If she is someone who can expand their world, in just the slightest, then who are we to chastise, or look down upon them?"

Yorihisa thought for a long moment, "You stole that from Suoh-san didn't you?"

The other man laughed loudly with a smile, " I believed it worth of reiteration. Pardon me, next time I'll include a citation." Leading his cousin towards the small cafe he began again, " Let them be children, full of passion, for just a while longer."

"Hn," he grunted in his nephew's fashion.

A/N: I'd actually love to hear what ya'll think. Reviews, pms, whichever floats your boat. This installment was rather short, sorry about that.