Okay, this is a random story that I thought of. I haven't even really planned it out yet, and this chapter is iffy.

But I hope people will read it to give me suggestions on how to mack it better. Anything - criticism/flames/comments - is helpful. I think knowing what readers think makes one a better writer as well.

Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran.


Her ears perked up at the muffled sound of a car coming to a stop. She looked at her watch. It was 7:29.

He always came home at exactly 7:30 every night. She knew that he did it for her, that his work was very difficult, yet he always kept this deal with her.

It was a their deal.

Slowly she walked towards the grand door of their home, a mansion. She walked down the grand staircase, underneath the chandelier. From a young age, she had been taught to not run, since it breaks things. She suspected that it was because her mother feared debts, but she wasn't sure. Any moment now, a butler would open the door and he would be there.

Her father.

She knew that her mother despised these acts of 'rich people' though she never really voiced it. But she had heard her mumble before, "Oh why? Why do we have to go through such troublesome things? He could do it very well himself - he's not an invalid." And then her mother would sigh before turning to her daughter and saying with a cheerful smile, "Hi honey, how was your day?"

But her mother wasn't here today. For the next week or so, she would be at a meeting working on an extradition. Her mother, the criminal lawyer.

By now it was 7:31, and she gave a small humph. She had clearly heard the car coming home, and besides, it wasn't like her father to be late, even for one minute.

Finally the door opened, the butler hastily saying, "My apologizes."

The man who appeared didn't give as much as a second glance at the butler, his expression cold with distaste. But then he smiled at the sight of a little girl.

"Akari? Did you wait for me?"

He received no answer because his daughter had jumped onto him, crying out, "Father!"

He laughed, but it sounded forced. "Did you eat yet?"

She shook her head. "You're late."

"A meeting, but let's not talk about it right now. For now, let's go eat dinner, and then maybe I'll tell you…"

"Will you swear an oath with me?"

The man groaned. "What has that Tamaki of an idiot taught you now?"

Akari looked up at her father. "I'll tell you if you tell me why you were late."

Ohtori Kyouya made a smirk and he said, "Deal."


"Father, tell me a story." Akari sat on a plush armchair, in the 'fetal position' her uncle Tamaki had taught her. Although he was a grown man and had his own home, but he loved coming to the Ohtori Residence to see Akari, his daughter/grandaugher/niece, depending on who he was talking to.

He always acted same way, calling people the wrong names, like 'Father' became 'Mother', 'Mommy' became 'Daughter', and she became everything else. But she endured it, as he was her parents' friend, but she still couldn't help herself when one time she had called him a "weirdo." Instantly he had crouched into a fetal position in the nearest corner. Some people are just weird, she thought, but she felt that he was a good person anyway.

"I'm working, maybe later," Kyouya said.

"You're going to keep your deal?"

"Of course. I need to finish the paperwork, and then I'll tell you a story."

"You need to tell me a good story."

"And why is that?" Kyouya's hand was deft as he filled out form after form, not missing a section. Surprisingly, he was able to work fast, even with his daughter peppering him with questions. But then he remembered his friend. Tamaki.

"Shiro-chan only knows fairytales. Those aren't real - everyone knows that. I want to know a real story," Akari was explaining.

The aging maid, named Shiro-chan for her hair color, was one of the oldest maids Kyouya had ever known. She had worked for his father, a long time ago, and she now worked for him.

He looked at his daughter. With shoulder length wavy black hair and cat-like eyes, she almost seemed like a small girl-version of him. Whenever they went out, people would immediately recognize her as his daughter, Ohtori Akari. In fact, everything about her resembled him; that is, except for the large chocolate-colored eyes she had inherited from her mother.

Then he looked up over at the armchair she had been sitting in only to realize that she was gone. Although Akari was only seven years old, she possessed a great understanding of the people around her. She had also inherited her mother's practicality, Kyouya thought with a smile. He continued working on his papers, when the idea hit him. He had just thought of a story to tell her, a wondrous and very real story.


Kyouya didn't usually tuck his daughter into bed; that was his wife's department. But Haruhi was gone for the next two weeks, off in Osaka for a long extradition proceeding. There was only father and daughter in the house, not counting the servants, maids, butlers, and cooks of course.

He wasn't used to telling stories either. As a child he usually read books by himself, but…it seemed like Akari hadn't reached that stage yet. He didn't mind it though.

Even from the door, Kyouya could see his daughter waiting for him on her bed.

"Do you have a good story?" she asked.

He pulled up a chair next to her bed, and wiped his glasses clean.

"Well, I certainly hope so."

She was impatient. "What's it about? What's it about?"

"Here's what's going to happen," he said, business-mode. "It's a very long story, and I can't very well tell it to you in one night. So I'm going to tell you a piece of it each night, and it'll be finished by the time your mother comes home, okay? But, I'm only going to tell you so much each time, and when I stop, you have to go to sleep."

He glanced at the bedside clock. In flashing green lights, it read '9:32.'

"Okay," she said. "Deal."

They shook hands. Then Akari asked, "So what's it about? Is it real?"

"Yes," he said, taking in a deep breath.

"You answered my second question, but you didn't answer the first," she pointed out.

He gave a small chuckle. Even if she didn't resemble Haruhi, her spirit definitely did. Then he answered her question. "I'm going to tell you the story of how I met your mother."


Please tell me how I did! Bad, horrible...worse? Like I said, it hasn't been revised a lot, so there's a lot of room for improvement.

Also, I'm not sure how Kyouya would act as a father, so I'm winging it here. He might be kind of OOC. If you noticed something about him that seems OOC, please tell me so I can change it. Any suggestions to make him more in character, please tell me.

Thank you.