Written for: the heck of it. I had this chapter planned out for a while—I really want to write it!
Dedicated to: my fans. Thank you so much for staying by me and reading this crappy piece of work! I love you all very much! Also, I'd like to specially thank Katkin's Diet and Nyanto for always reading my stories. Thank you! I feel very loved.
Warning: Beware of OOCness and just general suckage. And again, not BETA'd...sorry for little mistakes here and there.
Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran or any of its characters. They belong only to the great Bisco Hatori-sama (and BONES)...I'm only pretending I own it because I live a pathetic existence. xD
(Sequel to Kimi no Koe)
By, Yue Guang Kuroneko
It was gray outside. Dark coal-colored clouds weighted with rain covered the once bright and blue sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance but there was nothing else. The wind was sharp and stinging as it passed, ruffling his hair and his clothes, but he felt nothing. He couldn't feel the warmth of his son's hand as the not-yet-grown fingers tightened around his own. This was the first time he could truthfully say that he was numb and could feel absolutely nothing, nothing but despair and sorrow.
She wouldn't be happy with him right now, seeing him in his utmost suffering. She would have wanted him to be as happy as he could be, raising Takumi on his own with a true smile as she would have done should he have disappeared. But he couldn't possibly.
Since when had he come to depend on her so much? If he was still the Ootori Kyouya that denied everyone else's existence, he wouldn't be suffering right now, would he? Wouldn't he be blissfully living a solitude life of the typical bachelor? He would be sitting with a cup of tea right now, watching as the rain slowly dripped from the dark sky, seated at a winged chair in front of a large fireplace, oblivious to this pained feeling that was squeezing the breath out of his lungs. But he felt ashamed for thinking this way—for thinking about a life he would have had if he hadn't married Fujioka Haruhi.
She was radiant. He was stupid and blind in high school not to have noticed it before. But everything she did, she was graceful and beautiful about it. She was blunt, hard-headed, and stubborn, but even that made her perfect. Her flaws weren't flaws—they were characteristics that only enhanced her perfection. Her fear of thunderstorms only made him love her even more. She may not have been the type of 'perfection' that was defined in the dictionary, but she was perfect in his eyes.
She was a skilled lawyer, but also a loving wife and mother to himself and Takumi. She never placed her career before her family or her friends. And although her tongue held only sharp words whenever they were in an argument, he knew that she never meant them. Of course, there was no way he could possibly know whether she meant them or not, but whenever they argued, she would never break down in front of him. Haruhi was not the type to show her weakness to others and would bury herself in her work if she was upset. Their arguments never lasted for more than a few hours because one of them would always apologize and everything would return to the way it was.
He never slept alone and neither did Haruhi. They would always return to each other at the end of the day with tired smiles and soft words. But that wasn't possible now. He was going to return home to an empty mansion, with empty rooms, and an empty bed.
Haruhi, He thought painfully to himself, clenching his free fist tightly.
"Otou-san," Takumi tugged at his hand.
"What is it, Takumi?" He asked thickly, through the lump in his throat. He turned his attention to the young boy by his side.
"Why is okaa-san in the ground?"
His eyes softened as he knelt to Takumi's level and pushed the boy's long bangs away from his face, taking note that Takumi should be getting a haircut soon.
"Because she's not with us anymore," He said quietly.
"Why?" Takumi's large eyes gazed up into his own. "Why isn't she with us anymore? Where is she?"
"Okaa-san is…in a better place," Kyouya brushed Takumi's soft cheeks with his cold and shaking knuckles. "With obaa-san,"
"But I've never seen obaa-san before," Takumi argued.
"Because obaa-san isn't with us anymore either," Kyouya explained, feeling his eyes water behind the protection of his glasses. "They're together up in the sky."
"But okaa-san and obaa-san will come back down from the sky, won't they? They're only on a long trip, aren't they?"
"No," Kyouya felt himself choke on a sob. "Their trip is a very, very long trip. They won't come back down anymore."
"But why?" Takumi asked earnestly, beginning to tear up. "I want okaa-san! I miss okaa-san!"
Takumi began to bawl endlessly, shamelessly. His cried echoed throughout the cemetery, resounding deeply in his heart. Kyouya could no longer speak as he pulled his son into his arms, attempting to offer words of comfort only to find that he could not. There were no words that could possibly comfort Takumi just as there were no such words that could possibly ease his aching.
"Should I take him, Ootori-sama?"
Kyouya shook his head at Mariko, still hugging Takumi tightly. Their head maid bowed her graying head politely and excused herself, holding a sodden tissue to her face before walking off to the side to cry. The rest of the servants had already returned to the mansion, unable to hide their sorrow from the eyes of the public. And his brothers had only managed to find time to attend the first part of her funeral before they were called away to business. The only ones left after the funeral was Tamaki, Kaoru, Hikaru, Hunny, and Mori. Fuyumi had left earlier with her husband and son, unable to say good-bye and Akiko was back at the Suou limo, possibly sobbing into a lace handkerchief with her daughters.
"Kyouya," Tamaki's voice was soft. "I think it's about time you went home."
"Yes," Kaoru said quietly as he held Hikaru's hand tightly. "You've been out here for four hours."
He only shook his head, still cradling Takumi to his chest. He didn't want to say good-bye yet…he never wanted to say good-bye. That would mean Haruhi would never come back. And that would mean he would never be able to hold her again. Or that he would never be able to experience her warmth or see her smile.
Takumi's wails died down and he glanced down to find that his son had cried himself to sleep. He lifted Takumi in his arms and placed a kiss at his forehead.
Haruhi wouldn't have left them; he knew that she understood through the passing of her own mother that a child suffers without their mother. She fought all she could to stay alive so that she could return home with a bright smile and a warm, loving hug for Takumi and a sweet kiss for him. But it seemed that it just wasn't enough.
"You have to take care of Takumi now, Kyouya," Haruhi had told him through her last moments. He had been crying and silently begging her to hang on just a little bit longer but she only shook her head sadly as tears began to descend down her pale cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Kyouya." Haruhi had whispered. "I love you and Takumi so much…"
He wasn't quite sure who it was, but a figure had gently taken Takumi from his arms and ushered everyone else away so that he was left alone standing in front of Haruhi's grave.
Wasn't it just yesterday that he and Haruhi had taken a walk outside at the nearby park? She had smiled at him so happily that it had made his heart flutter just as it had when they were courting. And hadn't it been only yesterday that she had slipped her hand into his own, placing a gentle kiss at his cheek?
"Haruhi," He murmured as he knelt in front of the cold grave in front of him. "Haruhi…"
He placed his hand upon her name, carved onto the marble gracefully, if not a bit awkwardly as if her name didn't belong on the cold slab of rock that had been half buried in the ground. Of course it didn't belong there—Haruhi didn't belong in the cold, damp ground. She deserved to be warm, vibrant, and full of life, of beautiful, fleeting life.
He gazed up blankly at the monotone voice of his father, "Father."
Ootori Yoshio said nothing as he stood behind him. Kyouya returned his attention to his wife's grave and managed to hold back his arising tears.
"Kyouya," Yoshio repeated as a heavy hand was placed at Kyouya's shoulder.
At the weight of his father's hand, he crossed his hands in front of him and pressed his eyes against it firmly, allowing his tears to run freely. He swallowed the rising sobs in his throat the best he could, but he could not keep his tears at bay. This was the first, and probably the only, time that his father had acted somewhat fatherly and ironically, it was at his beloved's memorial service.
"You did your best, Kyouya," Yoshio spoke quietly. "There's nothing else you could have done."
"If only I had sent someone to go with her," Kyouya muttered. "If only I had gone with her…"
"You would have jumped in front of the truck and saved her?" Yoshio asked sarcastically, squeezing his shoulder tighter than before. "And then you'd get yourself killed and put her through the agony you're going through?"
Kyouya was silent—there was no possible way his father would understand. If he had been there, he would have possessed the power to do anything—anything—to save Haruhi's life. But no, instead he had to stay at the office just a little longer to finish up the work that could have been finished the next day while his wife was hit by a truck that had slid on a damn piece of ice.
"Think whatever it is that you wish," Yoshio spoke, lifting his hand from his shoulders. "But remember that Haruhi would not have wanted you to grieve over her death in such a pitiful manner. Your wife was an honorable woman, Kyouya; do not belittle her existence with your suffering."
His father's presence disappeared and his fingers idly traced over her name again, still unable to believe that such a beautiful woman would vanish so quickly, so tragically.
You're too beautiful to die, Haruhi, Kyouya thought to himself as he stood stiffly, allowing his tears to continue to fall. You didn't deserve to die.
Kyouya turned to find Takumi wailing for him as his short stubby legs ran awkwardly in his direction. He mustered a small smile, despite his tears, and scooped the boy up in his arms when he reached him. He had to remain strong for the little boy that he and Haruhi had created together. He had to be a father that Takumi could rely on and trust when the time came. He was not going to grieve her death anymore because she wouldn't have wanted him to suffer.
"Takumi," He murmured, burying his tear-streaked face into Takumi's little shoulder, feeling the familiar warmth that was so similar to Haruhi's.
"Otou-san," Takumi clutched at his scarf. "I miss okaa-san."
"I do too," Kyouya whispered into Takumi's dark brown locks of hair. "I do too, Takumi."
"Will we see okaa-san again?" Takumi whimpered as Kyouya pulled away slightly to meet his son's puffy eyes.
"Yes," Kyouya gave Takumi a weak smile as he ruffled the little boy's hair. "One day."
"Do you think okaa-san's waiting for us?" Takumi asked, his little sobs subsiding as he gazed up at him hopefully.
"Yes," Kyouya answered truthfully, breathing easier as the aching began to ease itself, as if by some sort of magic spell. "I think she's watching over us right now. Why don't you tell her good-bye for now?"
"Will she hear me?"
"Of course," Kyouya answered.
"OKAA-SAN!" Takumi's yell echoed throughout the empty cemetery. "I MISS YOU, OKAA-SAN! I'LL COME VISIT YOU SOME DAY! SO WAIT FOR ME, OKAA-SAN!!!"
"Good boy," Kyouya placed a chaste kiss on Takumi's chubby cheek. "Let's go home, Takumi."
"Okay," Takumi wiggled out of his arms and when his small feet touch the ground, he grinned up at his father with a wet smile and clutched his hand tightly.
"Haruhi," Kyouya gazed up at the sky, where the dark clouds had began to thin out. "Did you hear him? We'll join you one day—so wait for us. We'll definitely join you one day."
"Hurry up, otou-san!" Takumi pulled at his hand urgently. "Everyone is waiting!"
Kyouya felt a small breeze pass by and he gave one last gaze at the sky. They were going to be reunited—and when they did, Haruhi would cry tears of joy as their eyes met and she would offer him a bright smile. And then she would drag him over to where her mother would be sitting and they would watch over everyone patiently and lovingly from the bright skies.
But for now, he'll have to wait for his time to come patiently. He will raise Takumi just as Haruhi would have done if she was still alive and when it was time for him to go, he would hand the company over to a well-raised Takumi. When his last breath left his lips, he would see Haruhi extending a hand out to him and he would take it, a gentle smile reserved only for her would adorn his own face and together, they would become a touch of serenity.
Author's Note: This is the end of Touch of Serenity and the end of the Kimi no Koe series. I will not write a follow-up story after this one—as much as I would want to, it would drive me absolutely insane. This chapter made me cry while I was writing it, so if you cried when you read this, please message me and tell me so…so that I don't feel like a total idiot for crying and typing at the same time. -laugh- And yay! I MANAGED TO FINISH AND POST THIS BEFORE I LEFT FOR BOSTON!
I sincerely hope that you all enjoyed Touch of Serenity (as well as Kimi no Koe despite any horrible flaws) and will read any further works that I may, or may not, publish. Thank you to those of you who has been supporting me and offering me advice on ways to improve my writing! Thank you all once again and happy holidays!
- "Otou-san" means
- "Okaa-san" means "mother"
- "Obaa-san" means "grandmother"
- "Ootori-sama" The suffix -sama is used as either "master" or "king" by servants, or those of lower lineage/positions in society
Feedback is really appreciated. Constructive criticism is also appreciated. Mean flames are retaliated with my evil dust kitties and their water furballs...so don't try them. You'll regret it. Really.
Thank you for reading! And good-bye for now!