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The house stank... of fish

Now Domi was not the violent type, but she was the overly suspicious type. And when the entire mansion smelt of that horrific odor... you'd be suspicious, too. Especially when you had a mother currently finishing her fifth temporary ban, this month, from the kitchens due to horrendous cooking skills. And at least twenty half-drunk men walking in and out of the house by the hour, all with "festival" written plain as day on their faces.

No. Seriously. Dominique's doe-brown eyes twitched behind her glasses when she spotted some of her father's men stumble through the front door, bringing the winds of fresh spring and stale ale fluttering through her short hair. The sight wasn't terribly uncommon, but the Sharpied characters spelling out "FESTIVAL" across their foreheads was cause for both concern and increased annoyance. She'd been reading the Ouran High student manual when the fishy stench caught her off guard. Now she comes down to see this? Her lithe figure trotted down the rest of the main staircase, twisting and maneuvering through the excessively friendly men through the main hall towards the gaping double doors leading to the backyard.

"Didn't mom's 'kitchen' ban include any and all areas or forms of cooking?"

The monotoned inquiry had the fifteen year-old glancing sidelong at her younger brother, Seiji. His dark brown, nearly black, locks and blue-black eyes were all together an interesting contrast to his sister. Both were perfect blends of their parents when it came to appearance -she with her father's wavy sandy hair and her mother's eyes, he with their mother's pin-straight dark hair and their father's irises.

Her gaze slid back to the doors before her before replying tensely, "Correct. However, it stands to reason the ban should not just include mom, but yakuza as well." After a short pause, she added, "Final amendment: none save the hired cooks should prepare food. All others shall be fined ten thousand yen."

Yes, such beautiful children to follow in their sire and dam's footsteps in the looks department. Yet compare personalities...

"Darling~!", came the sing-song ringing of Jolie Renjiro's voice. "Koto, oh Koto, you must see the onigiri Mizu made! They look like kittens!" One of the greatest lawyers in France, who continued to gain fame here in Japan case after victorious case, now stood clad in nothing more than a school-girl themed bikini and a sheer blue-tinted wrap tied tightly around her hips. Dominique suspected the thin fabric was her mother's attempt at modesty for the summer gathering. But considering how relatively young both her flamboyant parents were... watching Makoto Renjiro run up in a low-cut pair of bright blue swim-trunks wasn't in the slightest bit surprising. Negating the fact the man was a mob boss, that is.

Both children were softly scowling at the excessive show of affection and adoration, though less because of the actual acts themselves -they were too used to the awkwardness by now-, but rather the fact they had to even stand there for fifteen minutes with arms crossed and feet tapping before their loving parents spotted them.

Their father turned towards them first, grinning broadly at his children before power walking over to them and enveloping them in a monstrous hug. Both Domi and Seiji returned the favor by tapping him lightly on the back. "Kids! Wasn't sure if you were gonna come out or not. Although," he frowned slightly to Dominique, "it is rather rude that you're not here, Niquie, hunny. This is a going away party for you."

Dominique ignored her father's pet-name for her, instead focusing on the exasperating subject he'd brought up. A going away party. For her. All because she chose to go to a public school that required her to leave the property for the eight or so hours of the school day, excluding ride times, instead of being home schooled by the wives and sisters and daughters of her father's men. And random other tutors purchased by her family whenever she or her brother hosted a temporary inclining to learn some equally random subject not already supplied by their vast connections.

The most recent example of such would be Seiji's previous desire to learn to learn fencing. That notion lasted for maybe two days before tripping the instructor on the stairs and sending the annoying man to the hospital. At least Dominique's interest in archery was still in existence, though lately even that had begun to dwindle in her.

Returning to the subject at hand, she cocked her head to the side with a light frown of question on her young features. "Dad, do we really need to have a party? It's not like I'm going to a boarding sc-"

"Oh god, no!" The three -and everyone else in the backyard- jumped at her mother's sudden screech of horror. You really had to admire the yakuzas' reflexes, as every man, her father included, produced a gun in less than a second -most likely fully loaded and with the safety off. Useless, as a heartbeat later Dominique found herself clamped to her mother's chest as the woman babbled and wailed about how she would never allow her "baby girl" to do such a thing. Funny. Domi was able to take the family jet and go to the Ivory Coast to suntan, then hop to Russia for dinner and desert, but leave home for more than a day? Leave to a place with just as much security as was present, and was most likely world-renounced for their hospitality and academics? Nope, never. To do such would be to spell the end of the world, according to Jolie.

As quick as they appeared, the guns were tucked away -into place she didn't even want to know-, and the entire gathered company focused on calming down the boss' wife and assuring her Dominique was staying put. Seiji added 'for the next four years, anyways', and succeeded in sending his mother into another fit of hysterics and death grips much to Domi's dismay.


-~*~-


It had taken a while, but at last her father succeeded in gently prying Dominique from her mother's iron arms. Jolie downed about ten jello shots and a few random American beers before regaining her normal cheery persona again. Of course no one commented on this, but instead the men joined the woman in her drinking and trying to keep each other from drowning in the pool. This quickly included Domi and Seiji running around the edge of the pool with rods to help pull out a poor drunkard, but the almost-victim's laughter was enough to make the usually depressing act nothing less than humorous for the kids. Never did Makoto's sullen expression escape Domi's eyes, though, even when he'd be a grinning and laughing youth moment anyone glanced his way.

She was more than capable of reading her own father, thank you very much.

So she wasn't too shocked when, as the sun began to set and a bonfire dominated the party goers' attention, he approached her with a calm beckon to follow him back indoors. With the lowering sun brought lowering temperatures, thus the man's switch from swim wear to designer jeans and button up sleeveless shirt that highlighted the golden dragon swirling and snarling around her father's arms -years of seeing the beautiful beast told her it extended far down his back and into an elaborate background of mountains and rivers and clouds. How strange that to so many, such a tattoo would strike fear and caution into their hearts... when all she saw was a sign of protection and safety in the form of her warm, gentle father. How strange...

"Niquie, hunny, you know your mother didn't mean to startle you earlier," he began, startling Dominique from her mindless musing. It took her a moment to not only grasp what he was saying, but where they were. It must have been a serious matter indeed, if he brought her to his study. He crossed the room to collapse gracefully into the plush sofa angled towards the fireplace beside the door, arms open in parental expectancy as she followed to curl up in his comforting embrace. Again she was struck with thoughts of how idiotic the public was for calling her father a devil, a monster. Only if you deserved it, was her sagely thought.

"I know dad. Mom explained the situation to Seiji and myself in the past. She went into hysterics when I first mentioned the prospect of going to Ouran High, remember?" Both cringed at the memory that stirred accordingly. She adjusted herself so she was half-laying on the sofa, half on her father's chest, but wholly enveloped in soothing fraternal comfort and protection.

He sighed. "That's true. I just want you to know she does support your decision -she loves you way too much not to, she just... ah..." As he floundered for a proper explenation, she smiled lightly and patted his hand on her shoulder.

"Loves me," Dominique supplied, making her father smile broadly and nod. The conversation was over, both could see this without question, and so a pleasant silence closed over them as they continued to sit and listen to the party outside. Loud whoops and hollers made her raise a brow, an equally loud crash of something crystal breaking making her wince. Her father groaned, but beyond that neither moved. Everything was just too common to rush out and see what else had become useless scraps.

Eventually though, he gave her one last affectionate squeeze before lifting himself from the sofa and donning the yakuza-boss-aura, stomping out to the scene of the crime with growls and snarls that had his men shakily reporting the event second-by-second in hopes of saving their hides -and wallets- from harm. This gave Dominique the time to roll onto her back and stare around the study with simple wonder. She was, in theory, making a trade here. Time with her family and friends for Ouran High. Again, it wasn't like she was moving away, but still, the facts still stood -she was leaving, if only for a few hours each weekday. Her mother's slurred purrs to hush away the grumbles and complaints of her father reached her then, and she laughed softly. She was trading insanity for... for what?

What exactly was she getting herself into, by going to a public school? Beyond her family, extended or otherwise, she didn't deal much with the ruling class. Neither parents' occupations really made it easy or especially ideal to do so, making her suddenly aware of how rather isolated she and her brother were.

The sounds of resumed partying and the crackles of more wood being thrown into the blaze outside shifted into a sort of lullaby to her, and with mind consumed by theories and ponderings to exactly what her trade consisted of, Dominique Renjiro drifted off into calculating sleep.