A/N: My first fanfiction is somehow Ouran. (How can I say 'somehow' like it's not my fault? (^_^') ) There's an actual plot going on behind the scenes, too...but more on that later.
I don't own Ouran High School Host Club...much to my dismay. (I suck at math so much...it'd be nice to have Kyoya around to help. And to help me with German, haha! Ha...ha...ha... *sigh*)
Let's get started, then, shall we?
Chapter One: Palingenesis-A New Birth
There was fire licking at her legs, smoke clouding the air, filling her lungs. She panicked, didn't even think for a minute about her parents in the front; all she cared about was getting out, getting to breathe properly, getting away from the flames and the heat.
Somehow-even in a dream she couldn't remember how-she got the car door open, and fell out, collapsing on the road. With the last of her energy, she crawled to the side and coughed up mucous and poison air until she was light-headed.
When her senses returned, she realized something-her parents had never joined her. She turned back to face the burning car, just as-WHOOOMF!-it went up in a mushroom cloud of fire.
"Mama!" she screamed at the intensifying burning. "Dad!"
It was no use. They were gone.
Yuzuki curled up against the ground and began to cry deep, racking sobs.
The beeping goes off like a siren in my ear. I bolt awake, slamming the 'off' button on my phone harder than necessary and rubbing my head gingerly.
I could never escape that dream. Granted, after a month or so, I don't expect it to go away for a while yet-but I hope. God, I hope.
I crawl out of bed, looking longingly at the creased pillow and the rumpled, warm blankets-but I can't go back to sleep. Today, unfortunately, is Monday-my first day at my new school, in my new country, in my brand new life.
In my half-asleep stupor, I manage to shower and dry my hair into a semblance of neatness. By the time I'm finished, I've woken up a little bit more; now I'm mainly just angry about having to get up so early. Honestly, I didn't get more than seven or eight hours last night.
When I squeeze toothpaste onto my brush, I accidentally let it spin in my hand and the toothpaste plops into the sink. I swear violently at it as I scrub it clean-I can't deal with petty trifles like this right now, I just can't. The second time turns the trick.
I grab my neatly-folded uniform from a hanger and start getting dressed. Pants, shirt, blazer-technically the male uniform, but I managed to get a special dispensation for personal reasons to wear it, despite the fact I'm obviously female. I hate the girls' uniform anyway-it's an awful frilly thing in a shade of yellow that would make me look like I had cholera if I wore it.
I slip my phone into my pocket and my iPod into my other; earbuds in ears, I'm ready to go. Locking the door behind me, I start walking, my pace in time with the song I'm listening to-Remember, by Allister. It's a good song for new beginnings, so it's on my shuffling playlist today.
As I head first for the Starbucks I scoped out yesterday, I catch a sight of another guy in the same uniform I'm wearing-a short dude, almost my height, with short brown hair. Huh. I wouldn't have pegged this neighborhood to have anyone else going to that school, but I suppose I was judging a book by its cover.
The Starbucks is warm and the barista actually friendly. I order my coffee(a short; I want to finish it by the time I reach the campus), pay for it with some of my stipend-of course coffee is a necessity, how could it not be?-and take off again.
It tastes like heaven.
The campus' front lawn is beautiful. In the early winter-morning sunlight, the building seems to sparkle. This well-kept, private institution is Ouran Academy-a far cry from the graffitied brick-wall public school I had been attending in America. The tagline here is 'wealth and lineage'.
I enter, still pondering that, and trash my empty cup. Though my parents had never shown any interest in sending me to a place like this before, my enrollment had been one of the conditions in their last testament that I had to fulfill before I could inherit our family business. I wish I knew why-wish I had one last chance to talk to them, to just say 'goodbye'-
I choke back the rising tears and swallow a few times, trying to maintain my composure. I don't want to walk in crying my first day-I am not going to give anyone an excuse to call me a crybaby or a weakling.
Someone clears their throat roughly. I glance up, pulling my earbuds out by the cords in a fluid motion and shutting my iPod off with a flick of my thumb. The earbuds get stashed in a pocket-where, no doubt, they will end up wildly tangled as usual-and smile at the other person.
"Good morning," I say. "I'm Yuzuki Tsubakana."
"I've been expecting you, Miss Tsubakana," the middle-aged man in a grey suit says crisply. "I'm here to show you to your first class." Judging by the earpiece, he's probably one of the school's security guards. I nod my acquiescence and follow him as he begins to lead the way.
The first class of my day is on the first floor of the school, fittingly enough. The security guard leaves me there abruptly, and I walk inside, my stomach knotting up a little in a weird kind of stage fright. Sure, I was born in Japan, but I've been in America so long that I'm not entirely sure I can fit in here. I've forgotten so many of the social customs I'm supposed to know.
"Are you our new student?" the teacher, a young and energetic-looking woman, asks me. I nod my assent. She beams at me and turns to the class, trilling, "Everyone, we have a new student here today. This is Yuzuki Tsubakana, from America. I want you all to make her feel welcome, okay?"
The other students mumble vague obedience. I sit down at the seat she directs me to; I'm not sure where to look. I want to get an idea of the people here, but if I look at them too long, they'll think I'm staring.
Two hands land on the corners of my desk. Startled, I glance up to see the owners-a pair of twins, orange-blonde hair a few shades darker than my own.
"Hey," the one on the right says, "we don't mean to pry, but-"
"You are a girl, right?" the left one finishes abruptly.
"Hikaru, Kaoru, that was rude," another-wow, is that a boy? Boys don't come that…pretty-kid says.
"We're just trying to be friendly," they chorus.
"Yeah, with that uniform-"
"We're not gonna be the only ones asking."
I smile at the other boy. "It's fine. I figured people were going to ask questions-but yeah, I'm a girl."
"Then why are you wearing a boys' uniform?"
Instinctively, my eyes flicker down to my legs. I wrench them back up. The glance lasted less than a second-I hope they missed it. "I'd rather not talk about it, if that's okay with you."
Then I do a double take. The androgyne-I'm not totally sure, but I think that's the guy I saw walking this morning. It'd be cool to know someone in the neighborhood, so I ask.
"Hey, do you live in the [X Townhouses]? I think I saw you this morning."
He is visibly taken aback. "Uh, yeah." The twins look nonplussed too.
"You live in Haruhi's neighborhood?"
"I didn't know the new student was an honor student."
"What?" It takes me a minute to understand. "Oh-no. No. I'm a regular student. It's one of the stipulations in my parents'…" I choke on the word a little bit. "My parents' will."
"Oh." A few awkward minutes pass, then the boy-whose name, it seems, is Haruhi-offers, "I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's okay." I force a smile. "Just hard to get used to."
Thankfully, the bell rings to start class then, and I have a chance to compose myself. This class is English, and we're reading Romeo and Juliet-something I've done before, so I catch up easily. It's over quickly enough. As I pack up, I glance at my next period's room number, and realize I have no idea where that is.
Ouran is fancy enough to have an actual metal bell instead of the electronic beep broadcast over the P.A. system. I glance at Haruhi.
"Hey," I say, to get his attention. He looks up at me-I'm struck by a wave of envy. He has the most beautiful eyes for a guy. I indicate the room number on my schedule. "Do you know where thisis?"
He thinks for a minute, but the twins answer before he can. "It's on the third floor, west wing," they say.
Two flights of stairs-I'd better hurry. "Thanks a lot," I call over my shoulder, grabbing my bag and rushing out.
I hear them comment as I leave.
"That's a second-year class, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it's the boss' and Kyoya-senpai's second period too."