Ouran High School Host Club Fan Fiction ❯ Product of Excellent Breeding ❯ Product of Excellent Breeding 5 ( Chapter 5 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Product of Excellent Breeding 5

In Seiichiro’s apartment the lawyer tents to the okama. Ranka sits atop the low table a cold compress against his left cheek. His torn stockings lay on the floor discarded; Seii sits on the tatami cleaning the scraped knee and palm. Ranka winces as the antiseptic soaked cotton is pressed to the cut.
“Sorry” Seii says apologetically.
The kettle whistles as the water reaches a boil, the sudden screech makes Ranka startle and he curses in embarrassment and annoyance.
The older man pats his thigh and stands going to the stove, he prepares the tea quietly, giving the tranny some space. He has watched the okama’s mood change from fright, to frustration, to anger in the small amount of time since they arrived to the apartment.
“It’s alright Rioyi,” he says handing the younger man a mug of steaming tea. It smells of chamomile, it will calm him down and help him sleep.
“It’s not alright!” Ranka snaps, the attack rattled him and he is angry at himself for allowing it. “I was rescued by a seventeen-years- old. Like some damsel in distress.”
“You do play the part well, and I’ve got to admit the kid has balls to charge in like that,” the lawyer comments.
“Damn it I have a pair of balls too!” he exclaims in an outrage.
“Though yours are more of a decoration,” Seii tries to joke.
Ranka glares daggers at him.
“I’m only kidding,” he holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Come on don’t be so harsh on yourself. There is nothing wrong with your being so affected. Your fear has nothing to do with your wearing a dress,” he says as he sits on the floor in front of Ranka again “It is fear for your safety, and your daughter’s. You did what every parent’s instincts tell them to do and you drove the danger onto yourself and away from your young. I think you did admirably and I’m flattered you feel safe with me,” his hand reaches to stroke a strand of loose auburn hair affectionately.
Though partially true, Ranka feels there is a part the lawyer is missing, a very important part that makes the okama react this way to being harassed and attacked so intimately. But he is too exhausted to try to explain it and Seii wouldn’t understand it anyway.  
“It’s been a hard night, you are all wound up, let’s go to bed,” Seii says placing a soft kiss on the inside of the tranny’s knee.
“Seii I… tonight I can’t,” Ranka stammers too many emotions crowding him at once to think or talk straight. He can’t bed Seiichiro tonight he feels too raw, too exposed and vulnerable. True the feelings are not directed to the lawyer and it makes him ashamed that he can’t control them, that the feeling of safety the older man provides is not enough to fight his lingering fear.
“I wasn’t implying that Ranka,” he says apparently unfazed by the okama’s behavior. “Just laying down and sleeping. I’ll pull out the spare futon if sharing mine makes you uncomfortable,” he adds understandingly.
Ranka gives him a small watery smile, relieved and ashamed he had thought Seii would be insensible to his state of mind and ask for sex, he really needs to pull himself together and remember it is Seiichiro the man before him.
 “Sharing is fine,” he finally concedes. While they prepare for bed, Ranka wonders how Kyoya is doing. He can’t explain the urge to call him not only to thank him; but to make sure he is alright. But the hour is too late and he has imposed on the boy too much for one night.
Once alone in the limo Kyoya allows the pain to wash over him, with a groan he curls in on himself, his forehead resting on his knees, his arms wound tightly around his middle.  With every curb and pothole the throbbing pain lets itself known. He allows himself to succumb, letting the whimpers he has been withholding scape pass his lips.  The teen remains like this in a slight, pain induced haze; coming to himself when the limo jolts to an abrupt halt upsetting his already sore kidney making him hiss through gritted teeth. By God it hurts!  The driver opens the door, his anxious hands seeking to help the boy out of the vehicle. Kyoya allows the man to fuss over him, if only for the servant’s peace of mind, until they reach the front door that is.
“I can go on my own from here. You are not to speak about this to anyone, especially not my father. Go rest, but have the car ready for school as usual. You can take the rest of the day off after that, I’ll catch a ride home with Tamaki after school,” the teen closes the door before the driver can form any protest.
He steps into the dark silent house, for once grateful that it is empty. His father is out of the country in a business trip, the eldest son along with him. The second son is cramming for exams in a study group at a friend’s house and Fuyumi is spending the week at her fiancés summer villa. No awkward questions, no half-assed explanations and lies to give; no one to criticize or judge neither his appearance nor his actions. Just himself and the pain, and the bruises, and the jealousy caused by Ranka’s closeness to that Seiichiro, and the worry that this guy won’t be able to protect the okama.
So Kyoya takes the matter in his own hands. He picks up his phone and calls the commanding officer of the Ootory’s private police. He doesn’t care it is pass two in the morning, he doesn’t care the man is sleeping, he doesn’t care that most of the unit is on leave nor that the rest of them is otherwise engaged. He wants this dealt with, and he wants it dealt with now; and in a few minutes he has raised hell in his family’s private police headquarters. He explains the situation and what he wants to be done about it. To his credit the officer takes the mission without objection, and even inputs his opinion on what he believes would be the better tactical approach, making a detailed, laid out plan of action.
Satisfied that things are in motion, Kyoya moves to the next task of importance, his injured state. He gingerly makes his way to his room and into the suite. Turning on the light he is startled by the image that greets him in the huge mirror over the sink. He almost doesn’t recognize his own reflection. The teen takes in his appearance, always comb hair is disheveled, his glasses cracked, a dark bruise is blossoming on his temple making part of his eye and cheek swollen up, well not much to do about that but a pack of ice. His clothes are in total disarray, stained and wet with alley filth. He loathes to think of all the things that it may be and decides to dispose of it, and absently wonders if burning it would seem too drastic?  
He starts running a bath, adjusting the tab until the tub is filling up with steaming hot water.
After looking at his face, Kyoya dreads what the rest of him most look like. He yanks off the askew tie and unbuttons the ruined dress shirt.  As he peals the fabric off his shoulders an assortment of bruises is reveled.  There is one blossoming on his side just over the floating ribs; he glares at the one adorning his chest distinctly shaped like a shoe. The bruising is bone deep, the dark purple a startling contrast with his stark pale skin. He turns around and twists to look over his shoulder. The dark bruise on his lower back looks alarmingly large and he hopes his kidney is not hemorrhaging too much, that will have him pissing blood for a few days, no doubt.
With a sigh he removes the rest of his clothes; he tosses his broken glasses on to the sink counter carelessly and takes a quick shower to remove the sweat and grime.
By the time he is out the stall the tub has filled up and he proceeds to soak in it. He groans appreciatively as he sinks in the hot water, soothing and relaxing his aching body.
His thoughts wander to Ranka, to the frightened big eyes, the tremble of his body, the quiver in his voice, all of it caused by that despicable man. He shivers with the thought of what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been there, if Haruhi hadn’t confided in him. It causes a wave of fear and anger surge through him, a protective urge rises in his heart. Kyoya swears he is going to find out who is that man and there is going to be hell to pay, upon his family name he will make sure of it.
He wonders how Ranka is doing, how is he coping? He considers calling to make sure he is alright, that his friend is taking good care of him; but decides against it, it’s way too late for phone calls and he doesn’t want to disrupt the okama if he happened to find some sleep tonight. He closes his tiered eyes and before he knows it he zones out.
Kyoya wakes up with a start, a quick glance at the clock on the wall and he curses. He had fallen asleep a few hours, the water has gone cold and it’s almost time to get ready for school. He struggles to climb out of the tub, his limbs numb and trembling with cold. Whatever good the bath had done was for naught, he is again aching and stiff from lying on the hard porcelain tub without moving for hours. Luckily the hit to the head didn’t give him a concussion and he didn’t drown in his sleep. He needs to warm up and goes into the shower stall, turning the hot tab on full, the spray of steaming water beats down on him, working out the chill.
The third son faces the mirror again; he doesn’t need his glasses to make out the blurry image before him more clearly. His reflection shows little improvement. He is now clean, but apart from the obvious bruises, there are dark circles under his eyes, their sharp gleam dulled with tiredness.
The teen rummage through the medicine cabinet and takes the strongest pain killers he can find. He knows they’ll cause drowsiness, but he needs their numbing effect to move around with some semblance of the grace he normally possesses.
With one final glare at his poor countenance, he sets to perform his morning routine, if only at a more sluggish pace.

As Haruhi prepares for school she calls her dad, to check on him. Mr. Seiichiro is the one who answers the phone. He tells her there was a situation with the stalker last night, but he doesn’t explain in much detail. He only says there was a bit of a scuffle and for her to thank her ‘rich bitch’ friend. Upon inquiring who he meant, the lawyer described the friend as dark, stuck-up, with cold demeanor and a killer glare. The image of the Shadow King sprang to her mind.
“Kyoya Ootori-sempai?” she asks.
“Yeah I think that’s what Ranka called him. We didn’t introduce properly. The boy has more attitude than I like, but he helped out your dad, and he looked worst for ware, though he tried hard to hide it,” he explains.
Seiichiro assured her Ranka was well and that he was asleep and he didn’t want to wake him. Haruhi agreed to let her dad rest, though she didn’t feel any less worried, and left for school intent on finding out what had happened from Kyoya-sempai.
At the academy Kyoya curves all questions about the state of his usually immaculate appearance with a crisp: ‘It was an accident,’ and a curt but final: ‘I am fine, Thank you.’ Any lingering stares are easily dealt-with with a threatening glare. Of course Tamaki isn’t as easily deflected and takes quite a lot of effort to stop his worried fussing, he spent the day giving worried glances and ‘are you sure you are ok’s’. Though a part of him, the part the still has an undying crush on the blond, a foolish, selfish part; it’s glad and preening to have the boy’s attention focused on him, by 3 pm Kyoya is sick of it.
“Please Tamaki; it’s nothing for you to worry about. I assure you I am fine. The more you fuss the more the clients will notice; I don’t wish to cause any unnecessary worry to the customers.” That was enough to make the blond retreat if only hesitantly.
However tiring Tamaki's fussing might be, it's far less annoying than the twin's teasing.
"Whoa! Kyoya-sempai are you trying out a new look 'the rouge, fighting type" Hikaru intones getting in his seniors face to stare closely at the bruise adorning his face, unfazed by the death glare on Kyoya's face.
"Looks more like the 'cool, beat up type" Kaoru teases with a laugh. "If this is how Kyoya-sempai ended up, I'd hate to see, how the other one looks like." he adds, unknowingly adding insult to injury, delivering a blow to Kyoya's already beaten pride.
"Then I guess you have no trouble imagining how you two will end up if we continue this line of conversation," he bristles and snaps at them.
"Remember sempai club members can't be witnessed involving in acts of violence," Hikaru shot back smugly, him and Kaoru wearing matching grins.
"What make you think there will be any witnesses," he says in mock pleasantry. "and I believe you two have clients to attend to," he rebukes them sternly.
The smile he gives them and the threatening gleam of his glasses make the twins gulp nervously and hurry along to tend to the crowd of fawning girls.
The hypotensive evil lord he might be, but he has his limits and he’s close to it. He needs a moment to gather himself and sneaks into the supply’s room under pretense of doing inventory. He lets the clip board on a shelf and leans on it, he pulls off his glasses and loosens his tie; pinching the bridge of his nose he heaves an exhausted sigh. He’s whole body aches in a dull throb, his head pounds and he is tiered. The drowsiness of the pills cleared out a long time ago, but he is weighted with a bone deep lethargy, like his limbs are made of lead. All of it punctuated by anxious worry, wondering how is Ranka. But he is afraid to call to check on him. Kyoya can tell the redhead has mixed emotions about the incident and about a boy being his ‘rescuer’; the older man doesn’t trust his intentions and he doesn’t want to aggravate the okama’s feelings. So he decides to wait until he can catch Haruhi alone for a moment and inquire about her father’s wellbeing.  
Haruhi doesn’t sees Kyoya until it’s club time, by then she is teeming with curiosity to know what happened and concern for her father who has yet to answered any of her messages. Yet she refrains from passing Mr. Seichiro’s message just yet. It is evident Kyoya doesn’t want to disclosure the real reason for his bruises, nor does he seem to be taking well to the attention this brings upon his person. She seizes the opportunity when the older boy slips into the supply room and she follows him in.
“An accident huh?” she starts without preambles, startling him, the senior, whirling around sharply.
The sudden motion makes his sore body ache and he grimaces. Well at least he doesn’t have to seek her out, she has come to him.
She frowns, “Why not tell them the truth?” she asks.
“What truth would that be?” he replies coolly.
“That you got beat up in a back alley defending my Dad,” she sums up, that much she could deduce from what Mr. Seichiro had explained and the appearance of the Shadow King.
An eyebrow bounces in irritation; she is always so straight forward and more than a little tactless. “What good would that do? It is no one’s business. There is also the fact that it can’t be known I was part of any violent incident, it’s against school regulations and I do have a reputation to up hold. Besides imagine Tamaki’s reaction if he knew the truth,”  
That thought alone sends sympathetic shivers down her spine. “Thank you,” she says with a formal bow. “From my Dad’s part and my own too,”
He looks startled at her, “You are welcome,” he finally responds just as politely.
“What happened though? Could you tell me? Mr.Seichiro didn’t tell me much except the stalker appeared again and that you helped Dad, but seeing the state you are in; there is clearly more to it than that.”
So she hasn’t talked to her father since he left for work last night, she has no insight to ease his mind but it looks like maybe he can ease hers somewhat.  
“Don’t hold it against your father; he has his reasons for not wanting to tell you. But I believe you should know in order to understand the seriousness of the situation,” he gives her a precise if short account on the alley fight.
“What I don’t get is what you were doing there in the first place?” –‘is that a blush!?’- Haruhi wonders at the rose color on the boy’s cheeks.
Like father like daughter, she questions his reasons too. He picks up his glasses, “How can I put it,” he says more to himself than to her, as he deliberately polishes his glasses with a handkerchief, “It appeared to me the situation is very serious, when you didn’t call to confirm or deny my escort proposal; It occurred to me that your father underestimates the magnitude of the danger he is in.”
“In other words you were worried,” she concludes simply.
“Well, yes…” he admits albeit begrudgingly.
“Still it seems unlike you to go out of your way like that for an acquaintance,” she states, then seems to catch on to what she is saying when a hurt frown appears between the senior’s brows. “Sorry I don’t mean to question your intentions sempai. It’s just you go to such lengths to be a jerk, I forget you are actually a nice guy,” she tries to amend, though it still comes out more like an insult than a compliment.
“Well you’ve pointed that out before, as to answer you, I was already out in the city, when my business concluded, a hunch I would say, drove me to check on your father since I was already in the vicinity,” he explains coolly dismissing her unintentional rudeness.
“In any case thank you Sempai, we owe you,” she reiterates.
“No, it’s nothing I’m just glad your father isn’t seriously hurt,” and he says it with as much sincerity as she has ever heard the boy express, his eyes and face soften in something akin to tenderness.
Hearing that eases her anxiety a lot better than Mr. Seichiro’s reassurances. “How about you Sempai are you truly okay?” she inquires a touch of genuine worry in her tone.
“Yes, my pride is what is most wounded,” he dismisses her worry.
She is about to press the issue when they are interrupted by Tamaki busting into the room, whining about why is Haruhi hiding all alone with ‘Mommy’.  The slight accusatory tone irks Kyoya more than the unofficial tittle and kicks them both out to tend to the costumers. After they are gone he takes out his mobile phone, not able to resist any more he sends the transvestite a message.  
The rest of Club time passes without incident as Kyoya observes its progress carefully. Tamaki is as dramatic and Haruhi oriented as always, something that the costumers don’t seem to mind, apparently the girls think it cute. Haruhi on her part seems more accepting of Tamaki’s affections, their bantering and bickering merely mock irritation. There is affection and admiration in her eyes when she looks at the blond and Kyoya has to look away. The Shadow King wonders if he ever looked at Tamaki with that same expression, wonders if he still does. The twins seem to be doing fine, recovering from Hikaru’s supposed crush on Haruhi; the relationship between them it’s mending nicely. On the other hand there is a slight distance between Hunny-sempai and Mori-sempai that wasn’t there before a few weeks ago. No one else seems to notice the rift; as long as it doesn’t affect club productivity it’s no one’s business to pry into their seniors affairs. Maybe they are fighting over candy again.
This time around Ranka wakes up alone, a note on the pillow next to his head. He groggily reaches for the paper and unfolds it, Seiichiro’s neat hand writing informs him the lawyer has a case in court today, none the less it invites him to make himself at home and stay for as long as he wants.  As tempting as that sounds, one look at the clock has the okama scrambling out of bed. It is fifteen minutes pass three; Haruhi will be home soon, worried and angry at him for having dismissed her advice of not going to work only to end up being assaulted like she feared he would.
It had been his luck the Ootori kid had been there. The thought makes him both, smile, at the dashing hero performance; and frown in dismayed embarrassment for not being able to protect himself and get a teen ager hurt by his own inability.
On the way to the bathroom the redhead picks up his phone and it’s surprised to see that he has several missed calls and messages in his inbox. How didn’t he hear it ring not once? Of course Seii had set it in silence mode, probably to allow the okama to sleep undisturbed.
Most of the messages are from Haruhi asking if he is well, trying check on him. One message is from Seii reiterating the offer made in the note; a few from worried co-workers and one from his boss ordering him to take a couple of days off. He feels so tiered there is nothing he’d like more than crawling back under the covers and forget the last two nights ever happened. If only, with a sigh he begins to return calls, starting with Haruhi, after he reassured her that, yes he is okay and that he will be home as soon as possible, he sends a text to Seiichiro thanking the older man and letting him know he’d be heading home.
The okama picks up after himself, takes a hot shower and changes into clothes he takes borrowed from Seii’s drawers because his dress from last night is ruined and quite frankly he can’t seem to stand the thought of walking out into the street in a woman’s outfit, convinced that as a man he’ll pass unnoticed by any forceful admirers. He decides to call a cab; he is too tiered and freaked out to walk all the way home on his own, this fact only serves to put him in a darker mood.
His cellphone beeps announcing a new message. His brows rise in surprise, it’s from Kyoya. ‘Ranka, How are you? Is there anything you need? Everything is being taken care of. K.O’ The message it’s simple and to the point much like the boy himself, but it’s also surprisingly reassuring. It actually eases Ranka’s fears. The older man doesn’t know why or how but when the Ootori boy promises to protect him, Ranka believes him.
 As the cityscape drift pass the window he can only think of being home safe with his daughter, even if it means being scolded and lectured by an anxious Haruhi.
When club time ends only Tamaki and Kyoya are left in the music room 3, as they pack and close up for the evening it occurs to the bespectacled boy that he didn’t inform Haruhi of his plans to ensure her father’s safety. No matter, it’s not like the okama has a say in it anyways. Kyoya had made up his mind; the matter is out of the older man’s hands. Tamaki gives him a ride home, fussing all the way. Now that they are alone there is nothing he can do to deflect his friend. He compromises with telling the half French boy he had defended an exceptional lady’s honor. The look of hero worship his King gives him makes Kyoya’s heart ache. He wishes he could have had the blond look at him like that for the last three years; that he would focus on him with such admiration, worry and fondness. But it was not to be, it’s not for him to have.
When he is dropped off at his state the brunette calls up a car from his family private police and goes out to the okama bar to discuss his plans with the owner and to supervise the work he has ordered to be done. He doesn’t make it back home until late that night; he drags his tiered body up to his room, forsakes dinner, takes the most powerful pain killers in his med cabinet and crawls under the sheets. At least his mind is at ease, the preparations have been made and he has ensured that Ranka is safe. With that comforting thought he surrenders to exhaustion into a drugged deep sleep.