"Missy, over here! Look to your left, for me."

The lights would have been blinding to the average girl, but Missy was used to them by now. They were always shifting, trying to find the best angles of her face.

"Good, Missy. Now, give me a stronger pout," the photographer demanded, the camera in front of his face clicking away with every second. Even before she had found her new pose, he took pictures that he would look through later in case a slightly more candid shot caught his eye for the spread they were preparing.

Missy tilted her head just slightly to her left, her gaze shifting toward the craft service cart just twenty feet away.

When was the last time she ate something from that cart?

The photographer, a Russian man in his early thirties who looked like he hadn't bothered to shave in at least a week, took another step forward.

Myles Tanner was one of the most sought after fashion photographers in the industry. He was freelance and organized his own shoots, doing spreads for designers from Ralph Lauren to start up designers. Any time he met a designer or artist that he thought had vision, he was happy to work for them at whatever cost they could afford. This was probably why he had such a good name in the business for someone so young.

"Can I get some touch-ups on her make-up? She's starting to shine a little too much. She's a gem, but she shouldn't shine like one,"' he grumbled good-naturedly to the two make-up artists on standby. At his call, they quickly moved towards their model, brushes in hand as they reapplied powder to Missy's face. The two girls were in and out in ninety seconds, a fairly standard time for them.

As soon as they had moved off the set, Myles resumed taking pictures. "Missy, darling, can you take a step back and tuck your toe behind your ankle? Give me something innocent. There we go," he drolled.

Missy Preston, a model of seventeen, obliged willingly. Myles was her favorite photographer to work with, and the two had formed a very strong relationship since they had begun working together three years prior.

"That's perfect. Alright, that's a wrap on that set. Love, do me a favor and switch into your fourth piece and meet me on set two," Myles shouted over his shoulder as he made a beeline to craft service.

A woman with short brown hair in a tailored dior suit gestured for the girl to follow her side stage to where she would be changing. This was the same area she had been changing in for the last four hours, so Missy didn't really need the direction, but adults always assumed she was an absolute idiot because of her profession, especially the inexperienced ones that had never worked with her before.

As Missy slid the black leather leggings up her body, she was handed a water bottle.

"Only four ounces. We can't have you looking bloated under those lights," the older woman snapped. Normally, people were nicer when dealing with talent, but this woman seemed absolutely exhausted.

Why, she didn't seem to understand. She hadn't been standing under white hot lights for the last four hours.

Missy obediently took a few sips. A controlled diet was also pretty standard, especially during a shoot. They needed to feed her enough to keep her from dropping under the lights, but not so much that she would look full under all the lights.

After pulling the boots she had been assigned to wear next on, she did a quick once over in the mirror and grinned. The black leather riding boots zipped up the sides, stopping at her mid-thigh. Combined with the black and violet floral print crop top, and she looked ready to do undercover missions for the CIA at tea with the Queen of England.

Before Missy could move herself to the next setting, the two make-up artists from earlier moved around her in a whirlwind of excitement. They recontoured her face, bringing out sharper angles in her cheekbones and reapplied lipstick, switching from a vibrant red to a matte purple.

"Close your eyes for me," one of the girls said softly. Her voice was raspy and Missy recognized it from another shoot she had done a few weeks earlier for Missoni.

Missy closed her eyes obediently, knowing that it would be much faster to obey than to question them. They knew their jobs. "Have we worked together before?"

"Yep, a few weeks back. Myles likes to use us for certain models, you know how particular he can get," she muttered knowingly as she dusted more powder across the model's face.

Missy hummed in agreement. If there was anything she had learned from Myles, it was that finding and keeping new talent could be life saving, and that consistency should be used whenever it could be trusted in such an uncontrolled and chaotic environment.

When Missy opened her eyes, she glanced over at the clock. At this rate, we'll be done by eight tonight, she thought. Only four more hours.

Approximately four hours later, Missy found herself changing into sweatpants and sliding her feet into the comfort of her nikes. Technicians were rushing around frantically, trying to tear apart all the used set pieces so that the stages could be used for other things the next day. Assistants were stuck at their various tasks, hoping to move the process along faster. As Missy slung her bag over her shoulder, she heard Myles call her name from where he stood, talking to a woman in her forties with vibrant red hair in a pixie cut.

"Missy, could you come here for a moment, love? There is someone I would like you to meet," Myles said warmly.

A red flag immediately went up in Missy's mind. Never, EVER, was Myles this cheerful at the end of a shoot. He was usually incredibly stressed as he imagined all of the editing that would go into the next five days as he rearranged and retouched the images he had taken during the shoot.

The teen obliged, walking briskly across the open room to reach her photographer and the woman next to him. Missy stuck out her hand at the woman to introduce herself. "Missy Preston, it's a pleasure to meet you."

The red headed woman stuck out her right hand to shake the model's. "The name is Hitachiin Yuzuha."

Her accent wasn't particularly strong, but the inflection on her English lilted strangely, as if she hadn't used the language in some time.

Missy took in the woman's polished and elegant look. Clearly, she wore designer, but it wasn't anything that she herself was familiar with.

Must be a Japanese label, she thought to herself.

"So, how do you know Myles, Ms. Hitachiin?" the teen asked politely. She could see Myles' eyes gleaming in anticipation as he glanced between the two women.

Missy took the opportunity to look the older woman over. Everything about her said education and culture, from the prim and neat style of her hair and makeup to her open toed stilettos that didn't seem to affect her posture at all.

The older woman smiled appraisingly at the model. "You are absolutely right, Myles, I like her already," she stated, looking Missy up and down. She then began to walk around her slowly, looking at the girl from every angle, causing the model to straighten her spine and stare straight ahead as she had been trained to do.

"She's a little short for American fashion, isn't she?" Yuzuha asked, her question directed towards Myles.

The photographer nodded. "Miss Preston is on the smaller side for adult fashion, but she is only seventeen. And she isn't uncommonly small, and her portions work out well enough when we put her in heels."

To most girls, this sort of conversation would have been uncomfortable to hear, sizing up someone so neatly in front of them, fitting their portions into boxes of what worked and what did not. But, Missy was accustomed to this kind of treatment.

"So you're an American, correct?"

"Not exactly, Ms. Hitachiin. I was born in the United Kingdom, but I've lived in America for the last three years," Missy responded promptly, her gaze locked on the woman in front of her who had finally stopped her circling.

Ms. Hitachiin hummed thoughtfully in response, taking out her phone and jotting some quick notes down.

Myles exchanged a look with the seventeen year old and smiled, almost giddy with excitement. Whatever this impromptu meeting was about, Myles was very excited for it.

After a moment, Ms. Hitachiin looked up again, a smile on her well contoured face. "Miss Preston, I would like to invite you to come work with me in Japan. My office will be in contact with your agent, but I'll let Myles fill you in on the details. He has my personal number, so contact me if you have any questions. I wish I could tell you more, but I have to run and see a man about mirrored silk. I look forward to working with you."

And with those words, quickly spoken while Missy stared back in shock, the woman was gone, leaving a teenager staring at her retreating back, and a pleasant photographer rolling on the balls of his feet in excitement.

As Yuzuha exited the soundstage, Missy turned towards Myles in shock. "What did you do?!" she growled at him. "I can't go to Japan, I have school!"

Myles sighed and rolled his eyes at the girl. "We can sort out your education later, do you not see the wonderful opportunity, darling?"

"Opportunity? I know nothing about this woman. What does she do? Who is she? Why does she want me to join her in Japan?" she practically hissed. Missy stopped her tirade to rub her temples. This was not part of the plan at all!

The plan was simple really. Go to school and model long enough to pay for her education. After that, she was free to do as she wanted, something that she looked forward to often. If she enjoyed modeling and got some great clothes along the way, who was she to turn that down?

"First off, love, don't be such a snob. It doesn't suit you," Myles sniffed at her eyeroll. "Second, Yuzuha Hitachiin is the frontrunner in the Japanese Market for fashion, and she is planning on taking her company global when her sons graduate high school in two years. Meaning, she needs more models that can wear her clothes. Models from the western world. In fact, rumor has it that she's looking for a new face for her company once she takes it global. Really, you should be thanking me for this opportunity," Myles concluded, a smug grin on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I see. And how did you get all this information, Myles?" Missy questioned. Sure, she trusted Myles with her life and her career, but she certainly didn't trust all of his sources. Not only that, but the gentleman had a certain flair for the dramatic, part of which made him such a great photographer.

"Don't you worry about my sources, Missy. They're all very reliable, and Yuzuha confirmed a lot of that information herself. Why else would she be over here looking at models?"

"Okay, fair point," Missy conceded. "And what role do you play in all this?"

"Part of the next Hitachiin winter line will be featured in Vogue, and she's asked me to do the spread. And, if she likes my work enough, Yuzuha mentioned that she might have future projects for me to work on. And, galubchik," he said affectionately, calling her by her seldom used russian petname, "I'm always looking out for you. This could be an amazing opportunity for your career."

"Myles, you know how I feel about the career," Missy whined.

Myles had no children of his own, and when he had discovered Missy three years prior, he had taken her under his wing, forming the close bond that they shared. She was a replacement for the little sister that he missed from home, the one he hadn't seen in years. He fretted over her like a mother hen sometimes, always telling her that she could do anything she set her mind to.

"But you're so good at it, love. It'd be a shame to waste your talent. Besides," he admitted, "The Hitachiin offer is not forever and the contract is negotiable. At least consider it? You still have two years before you finish high school, so there's no rush to quit modeling now," he argued.

Missy stared at him in silence, knowing that he had made a fair point. Though she didn't love modeling, she didn't hate it either. And she was also pretty good at it.

And if she wanted to be able to attend an Ivy league comfortably, she would need a lot more money.

"Alright," she said with a sigh. "I'll consider it."

A/N: Okay, so new story, and my first Ouran fic. This chapter is centered on my OC, but don't worry, the host club will be heavily used hereafter. In fact, the story's mostly about them, but I wanted Missy and Myles to get a little introduction before I threw them into the chaos of this story.

Drop and line!

-Wri.