Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club. Honestly, do you think anything this angsty would happen in the actual anime? It's practically blasphemous.

Authors' Note: Originally this was going to be a somewhat longer fic, going into a lot more detail about everything and having each part be from the perspective of a different person. Halfway through I realized that I really only cared about Kyouya's perspective, and I felt like it would be better if it was much shorter and a little more vague. That being said, I'm not sure if the times are realistic at all, but I figured that with a person like Kyouya, time is something that he would definitely notice. And lastly, as just one final quick note for anyone who is wondering (since the reasoning wasn't included in this version as it was in the original): I imagine that Tamaki and the others were in front of the commoners' subway station because Tamaki, with all of his commoner love, wanted to try a commoner movie theatre and subway ride at least once.

Anyway, I'm rather rusty with Ouran, so I hope everything in this AU little fic is IC. Honestly, I feel like something like this is somewhat risky, and really more of an experiment than anything else. Still, I also hope that, whether you like it or hate it, if you read, you also review. Thank you!


Retribution


Tamaki was stabbed at approximately 9:42 PM.

The fine details of the attack didn't matter - at least, not in that moment. All Kyouya was concerned about was whether or not Tamaki was receiving the proper medical treatment. Of course, given his family's business, he could make sure that was done. Given that he was there, he called for an emergency helicopter while the others took care of Tamaki and Mori went after the assailant.

The helicopter, due to his demands, arrived at 9:56 PM.

Fourteen minutes too slow, in Kyouya's opinion.


Tamaki went into surgery at 10:19 PM.

Kyouya and the others - sans Mori and Honey, who hadn't yet arrived - had to wait just down the hall. Haruhi sat in a chair, perfectly still. Hikaru and Kaoru were positioned on either side of her. Kyouya stood by the window.

10:19 turned to 10:29 turned to 10:39. Service in the hospital was too slow. Kyouya was going to have a word with his father.


Mori and Honey showed up not too long after. There was still no news on Tamaki, but they reported that the assailant got away.

"That's all right," Kyouya said, squeezing his phone so tightly it would have broken if it were the type sold to commoners. "I know where he lives."

No one laughed. But then, it wasn't a joke.


11:37 PM. A doctor came down the hall to greet them. He granted them his deepest apologies, but the wound was too severe. Perhaps, if Suou-san had gotten there sooner, there would have been more that could have been done, but . . .

Hikaru began yelling, and Kaoru put his arms around his brother's shoulders. Honey began crying, hiding his face against Mori's pant leg. Haruhi ducked her head down, not shedding a tear, though her body language said enough. The doctor, being used to such reactions, extended his apologies again, and told them that they could see Suou-san, if they wished.

The Host Club, sans Kyouya, followed the doctor. As far as Kyouya could see, there was no need.

Tamaki was dead, after all, and he had work to do.


One month of meticulous planning. It was longer than he would have liked, but Kyouya learned long ago to not let his emotions rule his final actions.

Not even where Tamaki was concerned.

The service was held within that month. Someone requested that he make a speech, but he declined, preferring not to waste his words on the ears of the masses. It wasn't his style. Haruhi handled it instead, and Kyouya knew that Tamaki would have preferred that, anyway.

That aside, it took one month. One month of information gathering, one month of location choosing, one month of handpicking the members of the Ootori Secret Police that would help him out and keep his secret. Ootori Kyouya was nothing if not methodic, and he would ensure that he took each step with the utmost precision.

After all, there was no merit in being caught.


Their meeting happened in an alleyway near the commoners' subway station where Tamaki had been attacked, at approximately 9:35 PM.

Just as planned.

Of course, the assailant tried begging. It was rich how he thought that would save him. As if there was anything in the world that could save him once he took Suou Tamaki's life. As far as Kyouya was concerned, he'd sealed his fate the moment he'd plunged the knife into Tamaki's chest.

"Wh-Why?" the man - boy, really, for he was barely older than Tamaki had been - whimpered at last. Kyouya smiled, thin and cold.

"Retribution," he said simply. "No one strikes the King with impunity."

He brought his knife down.

It was approximately 9:42 PM.


Kyouya changed into a clean, non-bloodstained shirt before leaving the alley. He slipped the knife in his pocket and kept the bloody shirt in his hands, slipping out of the alley and heading to the bus station. He could have taken a limousine, but that would have attracted more attention. The Ootori Secret Police needed to be as discreet and unnoticed as possible while they cleaned up.

It wasn't too surprising, given that he was in the commoners' area, but on the way to the bus station, he ran into Haruhi. She looked far more surprised to see him than he was to see her, but then, Haruhi never was very good at hiding her emotions.

"Kyouya-senpai? What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to catch the bus," he answered. She frowned. "What about you? You're out late."

"I had some errands to run." Silence, and then, "I hear . . . they still haven't found the person who . . . attacked Tamaki-senpai."

Kyouya had started to walk past her, but he stopped when he heard those words. "No," he answered. "They haven't."

"I hope they find him soon."

"They won't."

"Kyouya-senp-?" Haruhi had turned to look at him, and when he looked back at her, he saw the reason why her words had cut off so abruptly. She was staring at the bundle of cloth in his arms, and from the way he was holding it and her position, he was fairly certain she could see a bit of the blood.

Haruhi's eyes rose to meet his, and he saw all that he needed to. Kyouya turned away.

"Good night, Haruhi."

She suspected, but couldn't honestly believe it, and thus didn't know.

But as far as Kyouya was concerned, that was perfectly fine.

She didn't need to.