Ouran High School Host Club Fan Fiction ❯ Awakening ❯ Awakening ( Chapter 1 )

[ A - All Readers ]

Awakening

By Palatyne

Summary:Another morning of hell for Kyouya Ootori, another struggle to fight sleep and the demon within. Luckily, help comes toddling in (implied Kyouya/Haruhi).

Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. The original manga story, characters and plot belong to Bisco Hatori, Lala, English editions to Viz Mediaand the anime to Bones, et.al.

Author's Note: One of the many by-products in the writing (and agonizing over) of “Sleeping In”, hence the very similar basic plot. Still, I hope you like this one.

Sometime ago, Kyouya Ootori's consciousness had emerged from the depths of his dreams and back to reality. From beneath closed lids he could sense the bright morning light streaming in from windows thrown open.

His skin felt the warmth of the day seeping in, warming him up for the day ahead. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom and knew that once more he had lost the race to wake up first.

He always did.

Within moments his mind was already fully awake yet his body lay inert, his limbs tangled with the sheets as he lay partly on his side and partly face down on the bed.

He could not even manage to open his eyes.

Yet he knew that today was a landmark morning for him. He seemed to have woken up before his alarm clock. He had woken up earlier than he ever had in years.

And he felt like hell.

Already he could feel the first stirrings of a vicious migraine that he was sure would plague him for the rest of the day. He was feeling the ache of tired muscles shouting for more rest. It felt to him as if all the cells in his body were screaming for him to drift back into unconsciousness and into the bliss of sleep.

His eyes remained shut and his limbs unmoving - it was a battle of mind against body and the latter was winning.

Mentally he cursed this one weakness, this one flaw that he had tried for so long to rectify. He was aware of the many health risks put forth to him by doctors, and the many other reasons why he needed to learn to rise at a decent hour.

Yet there was none more compelling for him than the fact that for the last six years he had been sleeping next to an early riser - a very cheerful early riser, undaunted by lack of sleep or stress.

Time and again his sleep had been inadvertently disrupted. Sometimes, to his horror, he would find himself unpleasantly awakened as early as the predawn hours - and there was nothing the Low Blood Pressure Demon Lord in him hates more than waking up before sunrise.

Yet for Kyouya Ootori, being the Demon Lord in front of his wife was no longer acceptable - especially not when she had done everything short of sleeping in another room to not disturb his sleep.

The early morning was the only time during the day when he could be with his wife. At this point in their lives they had so much else to do yet so little time - often only time enough to sleep in order to start again.

He did not want to miss or waste the few precious hours being surly and bad-tempered. Also, quite unexpectedly his wife was no longer his sole concern and he found himself with two more motivations to change.

Eventually it had become something of a challenge, a race to wake up as early as or earlier than his wife and to not be the Low Blood Pressure Demon Lord in the process.

Today, however, was obviously not one of his good days.

His earlier satisfaction at having woken up before his alarm clock was now giving way to the realization that the only way he could get up was if someone injected him with adrenaline.

All he could do was sigh weakly. So much for beating the alarm clock, he was likely to sleep through the day. He could feel the heaviness over his lids pressing harder, slowly his consciousness drifted farther and farther away from wakefulness.

To surrender to his body would mean losing, fighting to wake up would mean awakening the demon lord within.

After a few more moments of struggling, he suddenly heard the distinct sound of the bedroom door being opened - a long faint squeal of its hinges, suggesting a slow and careful push.

The sound was followed by the soft patter of small footsteps, advancing slowly towards the bed.

He lay still, which was not too difficult considering his state, and listened carefully for the next movements - though he already knew what the noises meant.

He was having two unexpected visitors.

“Onesan, we can't come in here…” came a boy's faint, worried voice.

“Why not?” a steady, defiant whisper answered.

“Demo….” the other paused, obviously hesitant, “What do we do…?”

“I told you already!” the girl hissed.

“Demo, Onesan -”

“Shhhhhhh! Okasan will hear!” was the girl's only reply.

For a while Kyouya could hear nothing more.

Then quite suddenly he felt the mattress shift. He remained still, eyes closed, waiting to see what the two were going to do next.

“Otousan….Otousan…Otousan…” came the whispered, urgent call.

“Otousan! Otousan!” a more persistent voice called out, as loudly as a whisper could manage.

He then realized that his guests' purpose for their unexpected visit was to wake him.

“Otousan…Otousan…” He recognized his son's gentle call.

Once more the mattress shifted, and suddenly a pair of small hands took one of his and was pulling mightily.

“Otousan! Otousan!”

It was his daughter, and from her voice he knew she would not take kindly to being ignored. She pulled his hand even harder and he felt himself shift slightly on the bed.

Possibly encouraged by his sister's urgency, he felt another pair of hands reach for his shoulders, shaking him gently - his two children, now joining forces.

Kyouya could not help but be amused despite the furor around him. The mattress bounced and budged with the shifting weights, the sheets were being pulled in all directions and he thought he heard the soft thud of a pillow falling onto floor.

His two children seemed to be trying their very best to tear him apart.

He couldn't help but smile.

Which was a big mistake.

For as soon as he did, despite his closed eyes and his attempt at absolute stillness, his children knew then that he was already awake.

“He's awake!” his son squealed in delight.

“Otou-san, you have to get up!” his daughter cried.

“Otousan!”

There was no getting away from them.

Slowly he opened his eyes.

He was greeted by the sight of two pairs of large brown eyes looking up at him - warm, trusting, loving eyes - and each time he looked at them he could not help but think:

They have her eyes…

“Ohayou.” He croaked at them weakly, pretending to have only just awakened.

“Otousan sounds funny…” His son, Kyouji declared and both children giggle slightly at the comment.

“Hmmmm?” He asked, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, buying time to compose himself some more.

“Otousan, you have to get ready for work!” Kotoko declared, looking up at him determinedly.

At the tender age of five, his daughter already possessed an assertiveness which intimidated most children her age but endeared her to the adults around her. Aptly, she was named after the woman from whom she and her mother inherited their appearance.

“Ne, Otousan…”

He looked at his youngest child and saw his own Ootori features, yet somehow perfected and softened by the same brown eyes. Though just as perceptive and intelligent as his sister, Kyouji was more gentle and quiet.

He looked at his children and marveled, for the thousandth time, at how he could have sired them.

When Kotoko arrived he had felt a deep sense of awe which transcended happiness. The birth of their first child far exceeded his thoughts and imaginings of how it would be. When Kyouji arrived quite unexpectedly two years later, he had thought himself the luckiest man on earth.

“Otousan…” Kotoko nagged him once more.

“Hai.Hai.” He replied with a sigh, amused at their tenacity

Despite his earlier stupor, he somehow managed to sit up on the bed.

His son however, seemed to have found this extremely amusing.

“Tou-san, your hair is weird!”

“Hmm?” Kyouya placed a hand on his hair and felt the tangled wisps standing on end, an action which only served to amuse Kyouji even more.

He then placed his hand on his son's hair and ruffled it vigorously which sent the boy into another fit of laughter.

None of this, however, seemed remotely amusing to his daughter.

“Otou-san!” Kotoko demanded earnestly.

“Hai, Kotoko-chan.”

“We got up early so we could wake you!”

“Arigatou.” He smiled, wondering who put them up to such a task. “Did Okasan tell you to wake me up?”

“No.” They reply in unison, as if he had asked them something ridiculous.

“You won't be late for work now right?” Kotoko persisted.

“I won't now.” He paused and looked at his two children intently, a suspicion forming.

He asked them quietly. “Are you worried I might be?”

For a while his children were silent.

Then it was Kyouji who answered. “Takano-sensei said people who are late get punished.”

“The boss gets mad at them and they get fired!” Kotoko declared gravely.

“We don't want Otousan to be punished…” Kyouji chimed in.

He saw then, in their eyes, the worry which had prompted them to decide to wake him.

He was moved beyond words.

As soon as he had found out that he was to be a father, he had decided that his children would not be raised like he was. He did not want them to grow up being distant, to look at him as an authority figure, one whom they should give their respect and obedience, but never their affection.

He knew it would be difficult to go against his own upbringing, to raise his children in a way that stood against the very ideals by which he was molded. He knew it would take an enormous amount of his will to go against what his own personality dictated and to raise his children to be different, different and better than what he was.

Yet he decided to try.

And every day, he tried harder.

“Don't worry. Otousan won't get punished.” He promised to them solemnly, comfortingly.

They're growing up so fast…

And in a gesture that was not quite like him, he moved across the bed and drew his children into a tight, warm hug.

“Otousaaaaaan…” his son laughed, wriggling from his embrace.

But his daughter, who seemed to have sensed his emotions, looked up at him and smiled.

“I'm not worried.” She declared, quietly.

He knew that he needed to explain to them soon that he had no boss, that he was the boss of his own company and could come to work at his own time. He needed to ease their worry.

But there was time for that later.

For now, he needed to reassure them, to comfort them and show them that he appreciated their concern.

For now, he needed to show them just how much they meant to him.

How much I love them…

“Arigatou, Kotoko-chan, Kyouji-chan.”

And as he sat there hugging his children - fully awake at barely seven in the morning - he realized that the Low Blood Pressure Demon Lord was nowhere to be seen.

There was only Kyouya Ootori - husband and father.

fin