|| Enter, Sora Ryoji ||
A teenaged boy was walking up the long pathway that lead to the prestigious Ouran Academy. The cherry blossoms were in bloom and the pink-tinted school almost sparkled in the sunlight that fell upon the grounds. The boy readjusted his single-strapped bag on his shoulder - notebooks, pencils and paintbrushes aching to fall out - and his glasses, which he pushed up with the middle finger of an open hand. He largely loosened the tie on his outfit and undid the first button as he pulled out half his shirt from his trousers - his mother would kill him if she saw that. Numerous necklaces fell through the opened part of his shirt, mingling with his tie, and bracelets clinked together on his wrists. Earphones blasted music into his ears and he nodded his head to the beat. The boy ruffled his dark hair, pushing it out of his bright green eyes.
Multiple girls stared at him and swooned as he passed by, but he paid them no attention whatsoever. He didn't care about things like that. about them. As he would always tell himself, 'people were stupid'. The boy frowned as he remembered something. He was starting his second year of high school at Ouran, and times like this begged for self-doubt, reasons to and to not study, and family problems that couldn't be avoided...
Subaru Ryoji was a typical business man. He spent most of his days abroad, haggling people for the best deals he can get to further benefit the company he founded. Ryoji Incorporated was multi-million dollar corporation that dealt with travel investments as well as housing developments in different parts of the world. Ryoji Inc. had helped hundreds of families have the best holiday of their lives, aided in the relocation of numerous businesses and found the perfect location for summer home and permanent residences for many clients. Subaru Ryoji had spent most of his life moving around from country to country, making deals with governments and the dangerous underworld of certain countries in order to make his company prosper and make his life richer, hoping that his heir would do the same.
Yuki Ryoji was a typical mother. She spent nearly all of her days at home cooking, cleaning and fussing over everything else. Eldest of eight siblings, Yuki knew her way around family life. Dinner was on the table when her husband came home, the kitchen was clean by the time they went to bed and the rest of the house was spotless unless a child rampaged through it. She was the image of sophistication and grace, always dressed to the nines and walking as if she were gliding across calm waters. Yuki Ryoji followed her husband wherever he went, from country to country, from house to house, hoping that one day they'd settle down somewhere and have the single child she so desperately wanted.
Sora Ryoji was a typical boy. He was an only child born into a prestigious and wealthy family, and was sure to never have a desire to need more than he had, because he had everything. His mother and father doted on him like any rich parent would: Sora would get dozens of gifts each birthday and more each Christmas; he was signed up for all the sports classes he wanted to sign up for, and his mother was always there to cheer him on at the dojo; he was taught to be respectful, but wasn't punished when he was rude to a maid or one of the personal chefs; and when he wanted to have something, all he had to do was snap his fingers and it was brought to him. Sora had a life that most could only dream of.
Sora clicked his tongue and kicked a small stone that laid on the walkway as he thought about his family. A life most could only dream of my ass, he thought to himself as he nodded to a few people he knew; they were completely unaware of the memories that were going through the students' head. The song in his earphones changed and thoughts continued to flood Sora's mind...
Sora Ryoji wasn't a typical boy because Sora was in fact a girl, and her cushy life was nothing but a well-built facade. The real Ryoji family story went something like this:
Subaru Ryoji wanted nothing more than a male heir to his company. Yuki Ryoji simply wanted a singular child she could dote on. After years of trying, Yuki finally became pregnant. Giddy and excited like any new mother, Yuki hurried to find out the child's sex. Of course, she and her husband were expecting a boy. Giddiness and excitement were not present on the woman's features when their family doctor told her that her child was in fact a girl. Anger had replaced them. They had been trying for so long... could they have not been blessed with the child that they wanted? Subaru wasn't so easily phased, however. He at least had a child, and years of experience in tricking buyers gave him an idea. People are idiots, he always said.
The next day, Subaru, Yuki and their unborn baby girl flew to London, England (one of the few dozen locations of a Ryoji business). The rest of the extended Ryoji family never knew the child's sex and they didn't know that Subaru and Yuki had moved to London until they called a few days after the move. By then, Subaru, Yuki and the unborn child were English citizens, never to go back to Japan until their child was ready.
Sora was born a few months later. She had her father's eyes, but lighter, big and round, and a shade of green that reminded people of a meadow on a summer day. She had her mother's hair, though. It shone like the sea at night, the black strands utterly white where the sun fell. Everything else was mixture of both her parents. She had tiny toes and fingers that curled at someone's touch, a small nose and mouth that made the darnedest sneezing sounds one could imagine, and dimples that only appeared when she was smiling. She was beautiful, but all Subaru and Yuki could see was what their son could have looked like. And so, Sora became their son.
Sora was always dressed as a boy. Nobody could tell that she was a girl since all newborn babies looked the same. Instead of wearing pink, like most parents would do to point out that their so far ambiguously-gendered child was in fact a girl, Sora's parents dressed her in boyish onesies. Sora didn't mind - after all, she couldn't really make her own choices just yet. But as she grew older, Sora began wondering why she couldn't wear dresses, why she couldn't play with dolls or why she couldn't play dress up with the other girls at kindergarten. That's when a four year old Sora Ryoji realised what was happening. Her parents never wanted a girl, they wanted a boy, and Sora was supposed to act accordingly.
When Sora was five years old, the Ryoji's moved back to Japan so that their 'son' could be educated at Ouran Academy, one of the best academic institutions in the world. She was enrolled as a boy and was forced to go along by her parents. If she didn't... well, Sora didn't want to know what would happen if someone found out she was a girl. So, she entered elementary school as a boy, wearing the same green shorts and shirt that all the other boys were wearing. When she was called to the front of the class to introduce herself and pick one or more clubs to join, Sora was beyond nervous. Being homeschooled and shielded from the outside world for so long, Sora had become quite introverted and often used sarcasm or any other rude behaviour to mask her shyness of discomfort. Being dragged to the front of the class was something he very much wanted to avoid.
"Desk number 16, come to the front please," the teacher had said.
Sora had nodded stiffly, hair shielding her eyes, and had risen from her seat. She walked to the front and faced the class.
"Tell us your name and which clubs you'll be joining," the teacher had pressed.
Sora stared at the class for a few moments before putting on a brave face and saying, "My name is Sora Ryoji, and I'll be joining three clubs!"
"Three? Wow!"
"Impressive Ryoji-kun!"
"Which three will you be joining?"
"I'm going to join the Judo club, the music club and the art club!"
Sora chuckled quietly and shoved his hands into his pockets. It was from there on out that everyone knew Sora Ryoji as 'the Artist'. Of course, everyone (especially the girls) knew that he could hold his own in Judo, having seen the boy throw numerous people across the dojo, but there was never a day that went by that Sora wasn't sitting alone in a corner, doodling in his sketchbook or tapping his foot to the beat of a song. Elementary school wasn't particularly pleasant for Sora, as he didn't have many friends. The Artist preferred paper, pencils and guitars to social interaction. He was often rude to the few people who approached him.
Middle school was different though, Sora recalled as he entered the school. It was as if Sora became a celebrity overnight; people just started crowding around him and, well, it couldn't be avoided. He didn't know why people had taken a liking to him out of the blue, but everyone else knew. Just like his parents, Sora was starting to grow into the famed good-looks of the Ryoji family. No one got to see his dimples very often, as he didn't smile much, but they definitely got to see the sparkle in his bright green eyes when he was drawing something particularly interesting. They got to see his short, raven-coloured hair grow to his shoulders so it was just long enough for him to be able to pull it up in a half-ponytail, something that made the all the girls swoon. Sora Ryoji had turned out to be quite a handsome young man. Girls would stare at him draw or play guitar for hours on end, and some would even lurk outside the dojo to watch him throw people across the room. Little did they know that the binder he was wearing was causing him great discomfort.
Eventually, Sora just got used to people staring at him constantly and stopped avoiding human interaction and welcomed it, even though he still never sought it out. He never had friends per-say, but there were a lot of people who hung around him because it apparently made them look good, and girls loved to flock around him though he was quite indifferent of the female attention he was receiving. He'd never known a true friend so far. The female population of Ouran made it their mission to confess their undying love to him at least once a month, though, so he knew people cared about him. However, he didn't much care for them; each time a girl confessed, Sora would simply shrug, making the entire thing really awkward before the girl would run off crying from rejection. Somehow, his indifference towards romance made him more endearing, and more girls fell for him, and more girls were heartbroken. People are idiots, he would tell himself.
Everything changed in his last year of Middle School. Firstly, he had the wondrous opportunity of meeting the Hitachiin twins. Hikaru and Kaoru were a year below Sora, and were known for their cold personalities. Sora wasn't much different, but at least he let people talk to him, unlike a certain pair of redheaded twins. Sora had bumped into them exiting the cafeteria, and the following conversation was one of the oddest things he had ever been through.
"Watch where you're going, Ryoji," the twins had said in unison.
"Hey, show a little respect, you two," Sora growled, "I am your senpai, after all."
"So what?" one of the twins said.
"Are we supposed to care?" the other finished.
"No, but you could at least pretend to," Sora had said, crossing his arms.
"Pretend?" the twins said simultaneously.
"Like you pretend to be indifferent-"
"-to all the attention you get?"
"Whatever, I'm leaving."
Sora had pushed past the twins.
"Ryoji-senpai!" the twins said mockingly.
Sora turned back and said, "Yes?"
"Let's play a game."
"No thanks."
"If you win-"
"-we forgive you."
Sora sighed and crossed his arms with a nod. The twins looked at each other and smirked.
"Which one of us is Hikaru, and which one is Kaoru?" one of the twins said.
A laugh came from Sora like a newly sprung leak - timid at first, stopping and starting. He wasn't done yet though. In moments Sora's laugh was more like a busted water main.
"What's so funny?" the twins said, annoyed.
"You want me to tell you two apart?" Sora's laugh had caught everyone's attention by then. "You're talking to an art student. I live to differentiate works of art that have way more components than both your faces combined, and you think that I can't tell you apart? I'm sorry, but this is just too funny."
"If it's so easy-"
"-then do it."
Sora stopped laughing almost instantly and blinked stupidly at the boys, absorbing every detail of their faces, their hair, their clothes and even their posture. The twin on the left wore his shoes tighter than the twin on the right, since the laces seemed longer; their hair was parted different ways but it was pointless to know that if you didn't know which twin parted which way; their uniforms fit them exactly the same... oh? That was different.
Sora smirked.
"The twin on the right is Kaoru and the one on the left is Hikaru," Sora said indifferently.
"Wrong!" the twins chimed.
The students nearby gasped.
"No, I'm not wrong," Sora chuckled, shoving a lollipop into his mouth. It was either that or the end of his pencils. "I know for a fact that Kaoru is more easy-going than Hikaru, so why would a high-strung boy tie his shoes so loosely? He wouldn't. You'd never notice it, boys, it's subconscious," Sora said matter-of-factly. "Also, there's a faded stain on Hikaru's uniform. Judging by the colour, the saturation level and my amazing art skills, I'd say that that shade of peach was once crimson, and is only worthy of Ouran's famous bolognese. And which of the twins likes Italian best? Hikaru."
The twins stared wide-eyed at the boy as the boys clapped politely and the girls squealed.
"But that's not it..." Sora said in a calmer tone and with a slight smile. "You're not one person, you're two. Even though you might look alike, you are very different and that's something that isn't seen, but felt. You give off different... auras, I guess." Sora chuckled and grinned up at the twins, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, though it didn't look it. "Sounds like something an artist would say, doesn't it?"
As if on queue, nearly all the surrounding girls began to squeal and Sora was soon tackled by brown uniformed-girls, leaving the twins to wonder how an artsy air-head like Sora Ryoji could have possibly figured them out.
Oh, the powers of deduction, Sora thought as he laughed and shook his head. Little did Sora know, at the time, a certain someone was watching the entire time, not squealing or clapping, but observing. Tamaki Suoh was a flamboyant and dramatic boy in the same class as Sora. He made a point to avoid Suoh since he attracted the wrong kind of people, and by that I mean too many people. However, Suoh didn't understand the concept of personal space and that was something Sora, and another one of his classmates, had to pay for. Sora smiled fondly as he remembered their first encounter.
"Sora-kun! Wait up!"
Sora stopped walking and turned around, lazily pulling out one of his earphones. He spotted a familiar head of blond hair and sparkling violet eyes that almost didn't seem natural. Tamaki Suoh was running after him. Sora almost turned and walked away again, but something at the back of his mind told him to stay.
"Boy, you sure do walk fast..." Suoh panted, his hands on his knees.
"Is there a point to this conversation, Suoh-san?" Sora asked in a bored tone.
"Last name basis?" Suoh said dramatically. "Oh, well, now, that won't do! Not if you're going to join my club!" he added cheerfully.
"Club? Suoh-san, I'm already a part of-"
"The Judo club, the art club, the music club and," he stretched out the word "this year you added the Kendo club!"
Sora sweatdropped
"Are you stalking me, Suoh!?"
"What!?" Suoh gasped dramatically, acting way too offended. "I'm not stalking! I just - we just-"
"We?" Sora said, raising an eyebrow. "Who's 'we'?"
Suoh fumbled for a bit then yelled, "Kyoya!"
Sora looked behind Suoh and spotter another boy that was in his class, stepping out into the sunlight. Kyoya Ootori had short black hair that was always impeccably groomed and peanut coloured eyes that hid behind rimless glasses. He always seemed so calm and cool, it baffled Sora how he could hang out with a ditz like Tamaki Suoh.
"What Tamaki is trying but failing to say is that we have done basic research on potential members of our club," Ootori said coolly.
"Research?" Sora asked, slightly worried that they'd dug too far into his past and found out he was actually a she.
"Precisely. Think of it as a type of background check."
Sora sweatdropped. Background checks? Who does this kid think he is, Sora thought, I am talking about an Ootori, though...
"Right... So, what is this club, then, Suoh?"
Suoh, who had been huddled in a nearby corner since he panicked, suddenly popped up in front of Sora and smiled brightly, flailing his arms unnecessarily.
"It's a Host Club!" he beamed.
"A Host Club?" Sora sighed. "I can't believe you're in on this Ootori-san."
"It's a crazy idea, yes, but one that just might work," Ootori replied.
"Sure..."
"I see that you, my dear Sora-"
"Hey, who you calling, 'dear'?"
"-need a bit more convincing!" Suoh said dramatically, as he somehow twirled all the way beside Otoori in mere seconds. "The Ouran Host Club is where the school's handsomest boys with too much time on their hands entertain young ladies who also have way too much time on their hands. Just think of it as the Ouran Academy's elegant playground for the super-rich and beautiful," Suoh said. "And since you're handsome and already have dozens of girls fawning over you, I figured you'd be a great addition!"
"Also, there is method to his madness," Ootori continued. "The Host Club needs to offer the ladies a wide array of personalities to choose from. We've already decided that Tamaki was the princely type and that I was the cool type. We plan on asking the Hitachiin twins, who Tamaki is convinced would make quite a pair of mischievous types; Morinozuka-senpai, who I think is a great strong and silent; as well as his cousin, Haninozuka-senpai, who would definitely be a boy-lolita."
"And what would that make me?" Sora asked stupidly.
"You would be the artistic type, of course. There's no questioning that. However, you could also play a very good indifferent type," Ootori contemplated, and wrote something down on a notebook he took out from his pocket. "Maybe we can combine the two..."
"There's my Kyoya, always planning," Suoh cooed. "So, what do you say, Sora-kun?"
Sora reached out and put his hands on the doorknobs to some double doors. With a smile, he pushed open the doors to Music Room #3. Instantly, rose petals flooded the hallway and got caught in Sora's hair. He undid his ponytail and shook them out with a chuckle. Suddenly, he was tackled by a small blond form.
"Sora-chan!" a sweet voice said in his ear.
"Hey, Honey-senpai!" Sora smiled, setting the third-year down.
"We haven't seen you all summer! I missed you! Want some cake? Wanna hold Usa-chan? Do you-"
"Mitsukuni," a low voice said, interrupting the boy-lolita.
"Hey, Mori-senpai," Sora chuckled as Mori ruffled his hair.
"What's all the-"
"-fuss about?"
"Hey, kids!"
"Hiya, Sora-senpai!" the twins chimed happily as they stuck their heads up from their gameboy. "Wait! We're not kids!"
"Keep telling yourselves that, you guys."
Sora walked over to the table where Honey and Mori were eating cake and drinking tea and sat down, happily accepting the cup of tea Mori gave him. Just then, Sora was pulled out of his seat and twirled around so rapidly that he thought he was going to throw up.
"Put me down, Suoh!"
Instantly, Suoh stopped and went to sulk in the corner, mumbling to himself.
"Last names again... Sora is so mean, mommy... why can't he love me like a good son..."
"You've only been here a few seconds and you managed to break your father's heart? That's a new record, Sora."
"Nice to see you too, Kyoya," Sora chuckled, turning his head to face Kyoya. Sora sighed contentedly. "It's good to be home."
