My school is in a yearbook-craze right now. Maybe that's how I got the idea. Might be OOC and full of grammar errors, so my apologies. I guess this would be slight KyouHaru. I guess.

Thanks for reading!


Ohtori Kyouya did not sign yearbooks.

It was a fact of life. He. Did. Not. Sign. Yearbooks.

He was one of those people whom everybody asked to sign their yearbooks, but would turn them down with a polite, but definite refusal.

However, as is the case with many facts of life, there were exceptions. If the person asking might potentially help his family through business proposals or deals, then he would smile and say of course, he would be honored.

But in general, he did not sign yearbooks. Not to the fangirls in the class. Not to other boys who hoped to be Ohtori Kyouya's friend - or just an acquaintance would be good enough. Even the class president did not dare to blemish his reputation by asking Kyouya to sign because the outcome was almost sure to be a failure and public humiliation.

It was a no-win situation for the majority of the Ouran High School student population.

Ouran yearbooks had learned to structure their books through years and years of trial-and-error. Now they were professionals. The weight of the yearbook was around ten pounds. It was defined through pages and pages being dedicated to the student body in all their wonderful, rich glory. The electives. The sports. And of course, the clubs.

Kyouya always made sure that the Host Club got an exclusive spread.

"Ohtori-senpai?" a voice interrupted him.

Kyouya looked up, remembering himself. Yearbooks had been passed out earlier that day, and classes had been cancelled for the remainder of the day to allow the students to ask their fellow classmates to write something.

A petite brunette looked back at him. Hr hands held the massive book that probably killed ten trees, if not more.

She held out the yearbook without saying anything. She didn't need to. Kyouya understood her immediately. Her eyes held a look of hope – she had always admired Kyouya, but this infatuation had always occurred at a distance. This was the first time she had actually spoken to him. Kyouya somehow suspected all of this without ever being told.

He eyed her pensively, and set down his pen. "Suzuki Hikari-san, I presume?" A niece of the president of the Suzuki Motor Corporations. First year, Class B. Kyouya briefly recalled that the company was doing very well in America right now. The stocks were going up from his research.

She blushed. "I'm honored that Ohtori-senpai knows my name."

"Please do not flatter me so. May I help you?"

Now her eyes darted down. Then they carefully looked up, eyeing him. She still held out the yearbook, using both arms. It was getting quite heavy.

"Please?" her eyes pleaded.

His eyes held no sympathy. "I really am sorry," he said in a curt voice. "But I have business to attend to shortly."

She was blinking now. Confusion. Ohtori-senpai, please, she was saying. But he had already left, leaving her to stand there in the classroom like a fool, with both arms outstretched.

He didn't sign yearbooks for strangers, and his family didn't need Suzuki stocks right now. In fact, if he remembered correctly, a friend of Suzuki had recently been arrested for possession. He didn't want his family to have an association with that sort of people.

"Kyouya-senpai?" another voice interrupted him.

He looked up, this time seeing a more familiar sight. Haruhi stood next to the table he was sitting at. She too held a thick yearbook.

Yearbooks were given to scholarship students free of charge. She would have been unable to pay the 300,000-yen price otherwise.

"Yes?" he said nonchalantly. He had arrived early in the Third Music Room to set up for today. He was slightly impressed by Haruhi's punctuality. It was one of those few, if not rare, times that she actually came early. Maybe he would mention it to her.

"Why don't you ever sign yearbooks?" she asked all of a sudden. She tilted her head slightly to the side.

"Why do you want to know?" he said, suddenly on the defensive. "Surely whether I want to partake in this seemingly pointless tradition or not is of my own bearing."

"True, but I always figured that doing it would bring more business to the club. I guess I'm just curious."

"What about Tamaki? And the twins? And Hunny-senpai and Mori-senpai? They sign yearbooks. It's good enough."

"I would have thought that your thinking would be more is better," she said. "But I guess I was wrong. Is it really that big of a deal?"

"Do you do it?" he asked her. "Sign yearbooks."

"To an extent. Like if a customer asks me."

"A customer. But what if it was someone you didn't know?"

"Well," she said with a bit of hesitation, "then maybe not."

"That's my argument."

"But you don't even sign for the people you do know. I've never seen you anyway. Then again, I've never imagined you writing something in a yearbook."

"Look at Tamaki, for example. He will sign anybody's if they ask him. Even if they don't ask him, he will ask them. That's his character. Not mine."

"And the twins are kind of like Tamaki-senpai, I guess. They share a yearbook, you know, and they usually sign other people's too."

"But only if they like them. Or if amuses them enough."

"True. Then, what about Mori-senpai? He doesn't say much, so I can imagine that he doesn't write much either," she said.

"He writes in a very efficient manner to get it done. He won't write drawn-out statements of thanks or such. And Hunny-senpai is the complete opposite because he takes up a lot of space because of his pictures, but the girls love it."

"Ah. I expected as much."

Haruhi pulled out a chair that faced Kyouya. She sat down and plopped the heavy book on the table. She seemed to be relieved. She said, "Then what about you, Kyouya-senpai?"

"I do what I do."

"That's a very vague answer."

"And that's what I intended. Excuse me for saying this, but I'm not entitled to tell you anything."

"Because there are no merits?" she asked without missing a beat.

"Perhaps."

A silence fell over the pair. Kyouya checked the time. In ten minutes, the rest of the Host Club, the punctual ones at least, would make their way here.

For now, it was just him and Haruhi.

She set her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm. She looked out the window, and seemed to be contemplating something.

Kyouya decided to use this time to write some notes, but he didn't get very far.

"Kyouya-senpai?"

A look of annoyance crossed his face. "What?" It sounded more malicious than he had intended.

She was oblivious to the threatening tone of voice, and casually pushed her yearbook across the table until it sat in front of him. He stared at it. "And?"

"Can you sign it?" she said with a shrug.

"What makes you think I will?" he asked.

"I don't know. It doesn't hurt to try, right?"

He looked at her amusingly. It was a bit more interesting now. Her face was passive, however, and she waited for his response.

Finally, Kyouya sighed. He took out his fountain pen – he never believed in Sharpies – and reached out to grab the yearbook.

He opened the cover to find it blank. Evidently, no one had signed it yet. He uncapped his pen and tried to think of something to write.