The next day, everyone was talking about it.
Did you hear? They'd say to one another in hushed voices.'
Of course, the topic of discussion was always the same; Kushiro Miku's latest endeavor that had been seen, recorded, and posted on the internet for all to watch and learn from.
Because, naturally, Kushiro Miku was the life of everything. She was a redhead with a natural talent for sparking up the naughtiness in anyone she met, who lit up like a star under the spotlight, evoking the wildness out of a dull party with a wave of her hand and a keg for a bunch of non-drinkers.
And most obviously, because they were speaking about a party that had happened the night before, it was only logical that the party princess in question was not to be seen at the prestigious school of Ouran High until the third period class, to which she arrived nearly an hour late to.
Many smiled as she walked in; what had happened, was all that ran through their minds. Would they find out?
Ootori Kyoya, on the other hand, sighed heavily when she sauntered into the room with that smug grin on an oval face with seductive yellow eyes, plump lips that were bitten red.
He hadn't ever liked her company; she disrupted everything. Anytime she was in class – which was very rarely, he thanked God – the whole seventy five minutes of time designated for learning of math or other such subjects was devoted strictly to learning about the events of the party the last eve.
Kushiro Miku was most definitely living the life of the rich and famous, enjoying every minute and every dime of her wealth in every possible way she could. Everyone knew she flaunted her family's fortune like nothing – shopping escapades were a daily must for the seventeen year old teen with the lean and toned body always dressed to kill. Her fame was constantly written into stone by the numerous magazine articles she appeared in, the columnist always speaking about how she was either the greatest woman to ever live or the biggest and most destructive force ever to walk the earth.
She didn't care, though. Miku walked with her held high, her stilettos tight around her long legs and shirts always just that little bit too low, revealing just that little bit too much cleavage. When in school, though, she walked differently. Most usually hungover, her yellow dress was wrinkled and disheveled, much reflecting the appearance of vibrant red hair and mid-thigh socks that always seemed to be at different heights. Occasionally, her shoes would be on the wrong feet and her dress on backwards.
Yet even in such a horrid state, the beautiful woman still managed to turn heads and attract whistles.
It made Kyoya sick with disgust.
Today, though, the hungover girl was most noticeably in a better condition than most days. Her makeup was applied flawlessly – as it was on normal days, though it went heavily against school policies in the foremost – and her dress was on correctly, socks at matching heights and her brown shoes on the correct feet, tied perfectly.
Her hair was most elegantly styled, curled into loose ringlets that hung around small shoulders.
The teacher stood immediately as she walked in, angry eyes staring into her all-knowing golden ones.
"Your report, Miku-san, though I doubt you have it-" he had started, unable to finish his last word of 'finished' before she threw a thick stack of papers on his desk nonchalantly.
"Relax, Hiro," she said coolly, calling the male teacher by his first name instead of the more respectable title he deserved. "I do my work, you know. I just don't care to show up."
Foiled in his attempt to have the girl sent to detention, Nirashi Hiro sat down in his wheel chair and crossed one leg over the other. "I can clearly see that. And when you do, I assume it's only because there are no parties to attend to?"
She sat down in her designated seat towards the front of the room – second frond room, mid center. It was said that the Nirashi teacher could see her much better from that spot than of any other.
"Not the case at all," she responded, shrugging off her bag before dropping her math textbook on her desk. "I only come to school to find out about the parties I could be attending. Which is usually why I'm not here the next day. You see?" She gives a smug smile to the teacher, leaning forward and pushing her ample breasts forward, as if trying to seduce the thirty-some-odd old teacher of hers.
"Well," he says in a cocky tone. Of course, this was the time of his career that he had been dying to have. It had taken many months and much convincing on his part, but he had finally gotten the request through and approved, so now was the perfect time to condemn his partying student to a life set by rules and limitations. "I'm most sorry to disappoint you, Miku-san, but the Superintendent, school boards, and every possible figure of authority has signed a petition stating that, unless you are tutored by a student of our choosing and shape up considerably, you will be kicked out of school and expelled from Ouran permanently."
She stared at the teacher for a moment, her eyes threatening, daring him to continue on with telling her of such a stupid thing. Soon after she leaned back into her seat, relaxed, at ease. "Go ahead," she taunted. "Sick anyone on me. Give me your hardest egg to crack, and I bet I'll have him giving it to me in a matter of days." She grinned again, twirling a ringlet around her finger idly. "I'll make your man my bitch."
To this the teacher returns her arrogant look with one of his own.
"As deemed by the board and with the already-attained approval of his father, Ootori Kyoya will be your tutor for the next year and a half that you reside within the classes of Ouran."
Slowly, Kyoya looked towards the beautiful girl who now had her eyes closed, a small smile on her lips. Dammit, how he resented her. How had this been decided without his knowing? Yet if his father had approved, if he had been chosen by the board, how was he ever to say no because of such a petty reason as 'hate' or 'intent to murder'?
"Ah, good play, Hiro," she says with a light tone, shaking her finger to the man. Instantly, she stands, nearly falling over due to the slight bit of alcohol still left in her system, dizzying her momentarily. "I accept your challenge! Lay out the rules, sir! I'll beat you in this game fairly!"
Kyoya's hand gripped tightly around the mechanical pencil he held. It snapped soon after the teacher began speaking.
"You are to accompany Ootori-san to whatever he does. This is to reduce the amount you party, as well as to connect you to a student who has succeeded in everything you have not. The board has understood that Ootori-san participates in after-school activities, and it has been arranged by the superintendent that you will accompany Ootori-san's group to whichever destination they go to, be it on a break, after school, weekend or similar. Consider your life of partying to be dissolved quickly, for you are nothing more than Ootori-san's follower from here on out."
She grinned. "Is that all, Hiro? 'Cause if following him is all I have to do, I'm sure I could still have my fun with someone..."
The teacher sighed, shook his head. In a way, he liked the girl with the strong will. But in many more, he hated her. Always a disruption, always too concerned on alcohol and boys to be even mildly interested in school. The fact that she excelled in his classes was hardly a legitimate reason for brushing him off as so and talking to her classmates the whole time she was there. "Ootori-san also controls your schedule. If you have plans for a Friday evening and he does, as well, he may tell you not to go to your event and, instead, find an alternative plan for that evening. You may not lie to Ootori-san, and any thoughts you have concerning your love of partying must be shared with him, to which he will deem if you are able to do so or not." Hiro pauses, looks at the serene face of the pale girl. Anger courses through him as he notices that she's not even mildly concerned about the situation she has forcefully been placed in. "Your life is no longer yours, Miku-san. Aren't you even mildly concerned?"
She laughs slightly, shakes her head. "Of course not," she answers easily, throwing open her textbook to a random page and pressing her pencil against it. "That tight-ass has so many friends I could hook up with..."
And at that, Kyoya placed his head against his desk.
Yes, this was to be the longest year and a half of his life, and whether he liked it or not, he was stuck doing it. To disobey his father and the wishes of other important people meant certain dishonor.
It was all he could do to hold back the scream building in the back of his throat.
[Author's Note]
SO! This is just something I'm doing on the side. I decided that the majority of my stories published on FanFiction are so depressive... So here's something to lighten the mood of my current repertoire of writing.
I'm pretty surprised that no one's done this before... You'd think that, since everyone's so rich, you'd come across at least one spoiled brat...
So essentially, that's what this OC is. Yep. So, I hope you'll stick around.
And review. Yeah, definitely review. Even if it's to say, 'Well, I'm leaving!' or something of that rather.
Ta-ta for now.