This is my frist OURAN HIGH SCHOOL HOST CLUB fanfiction. Weee :3

~Konnichiwa! Or maybe ohaiyo gozimasu would be more correct because it is officially morning where I am. Yes, very very early in the morning... and I should be sleeping. But I couldn't! So I decided to finish this little story that's been bouncing around in my head. I haven't posted a story in quite a while so YAY for me, I suppose.
It was fun to write.

Kiyoko first met Kyouya when she was six and he was seven. Her grandparents were hosting a large party for all people associated with the running of the newly built hospital. Executives with grey hair, wide-eyed nurses, and the new doctor from some place called Britain, even some of the engineers; everyone was there.

She hid behind her mother's skirt as her father sipped champagne and talked about finances. Her mother's dress was blue and made of a thin fabric that was cool in her small hands, it felt slippery like water. She was pretending to be a fish.

Her mother was ignoring her, as usual, more involved in pointing out other woman's hair styles with her group of friends. She kept patting Kiyoko's head, gently shoving her away. "Why don't you go find a friend to play with?"

Kiyoko scanned the room quickly; there were no children- only Toshi, her older brother by five years, who at eleven was much too mature to spare attention for his annoying little sister. "Momma, I'm scared."

Her mother's group giggled at her, gushing as they ruffled her braided hair. "Isn't she darling? She's just so sweet."

Kiyoko blushed and pushed her face closer to the dress. People were always calling her cute and comparing her to a doll. She didn't like it.

"Go find yourself a dessert or something sweet to eat, darling," her mother cooed and pointed across the room to a large table loaded with cakes. "I'm sure they'll have a strawberry one."

The promise of cake proved too much; Kiyoko let go of the slippery dress and padded on tiptoes. No one had even touched a single cake; they were all still perfectly arranged into a pyramid. There were so many. It just so happened that all the strawberries where on the bottom.

She could have easily grabbed a cookie from the plate, or even gotten a chair to grab a chocolate cake from the top. But both those plans seemed unsatisfactory, Kiyoko's mind was set on having a strawberry cake and she was set to the task in the mindset only a young child can truly master; one of complete and utter focus. So she reached towards a bottom cake.

Until he stopped her.

"I wouldn't do that."

She turned surprised, a young boy with shiny black hair and glasses was there, tilted slightly away from her. As if he didn't quite want to be seen talking to a cake stealer.

"Pardon?" Operation Cake forgotten, Kiyoko stared at him with wide eyes.

He raised an eyebrow and ignored her question, "Where are you from."

Kiyoko put her hands on her tiny hips, "I don't live here, we're from far away and we're going back home soon."

The boy shook his head, "Your parents are part of the company, they have to stay here and work now."

She didn't believe him; she frowned as he pushed his oval glasses higher up his nose. "You don't know that."

"Maybe not, but I know more than you do."

Kiyoko wasn't quite sure to make of this boy. He seemed mean, like most of Toshi's friends that made fun of her. She noticed he was carrying a black book and pointed to it, "Is that a sketch book?"

"No, it's a notebook."

"To sketch in?"

"I write things in it."

Kiyoko tipped her head to one side in interest, "Like stories?"

"Notes."

"That sounds boring."

The boy sighed, "You're boring me."

"Oh," Kiyoko felt her eyes tear up. "I'm sorry."

He looked at her in alarm, "Don't cry, I was… joking."

Kiyoko didn't believe him but she didn't cry. She tried to think of a way to make him more friendly.

"Can I draw you a picture?"

"Of what?" the boy apprehensively clutched the notebook tighter to his chest.

She giggled, "Of you, if you'll let me."

"You want to draw a picture of me?"

"That's what I said."

She didn't wait for an answer. In her mind his silence counted as a "yes" and she grabbed his wrist, pulling him under the table before he could refuse. The thick yellow tablecloth shielded them from the eyes of the adults, muffling the grating sounds of their laughter and gossip.

"Do you have a name?"

"Ootori Kyouya."

"My name is Kiyoko, konnichiwa Kyouya-chan," she said in a great display of seriousness.

"I didn't say you could call me 'chan'," Kyouya huffed.

Kiyoko tipped her head, "But we're friends now."

He looked at her in surprise, "We just met and you consider me a friend?"

"You're the only one who would talk to me, even Toshi ignores me and we used to play together all the time," Kiyoko sighed wistfully.

"Running a company is hard work; the adults need to be completely focused on their jobs."

"Being a parent is their job too," Kiyoko pointed out.

Kyouya didn't know what to make of this strange little girl. She didn't seem overly smart in a way his father would appreciate but the way she spoke made her seem older than she was. And the way she spoke to him, without that blatant act of strained politeness, fear, or clearly shown annoyance. Kyouya was a third son; everyone set the obstacles against him and then sat back waiting for him to fail, waiting to mock and taunt him when he did, because there was no way he could possibly win. He doubted this girl would ever have to experience anything remotely close to his predicament- she was the youngest daughter of a wealthy banker; the world was open at her feet and she here she was, obliviously trying to upset cake trays.

"Do you have a crayon?"

Kyouya pushed his glasses farther up his nose. "A crayon?"

"I want to colour in your shirt."

Kyouya looked down, suddenly unsure of what colour of dress shirt he was wearing. White. Was she joking?

"What colour do you need?" Maybe she's colour-blind, he thought, wondering if that could be a hindrance for her in the future.

Kiyoko grinned, one tooth missing on the right side of her mouth creating a tiny gap. "Red like a strawberry."

Kyouya felt the need to point out his shirt wasn't red.

"I know," she huffed. "But red would look better."

"That's an intriguing notion." He knew for certain that he didn't own a single piece of red clothing, not even a sock.

The little girl scrunched up her face. "Intriguing means… interesting?"

"Yes."

She gave a little nod and opened his notebook at a page near the back. The paper was lined with light black but creamy in colour and smooth.

"Do you have a pencil?"

Kyouya said no, he never wrote with a pencil. His father had told him once, and only once, that when you write something you should do so without mistakes- there was no need for erasers because "there are no erasers for the mistakes we make in our lives."

Kiyoko took the ballpoint pen from his outstretched hand in settled into a comfortable position. Her movements were light as she made quick strokes with the pen, her bright eyes moving from his hair to his face, to the paper, back to his face. Kyouya found himself inching forward, hoping to get a glimpse of her work. But she tilted the paper away, shaking her head as she continued studying him in silence.

Finally she returned the cap to the pen and showed him her masterpiece. It wasn't extraordinary, a simple child's chibi but it was plain to see it was Kyouya. His jagged black hair was shaded with blue ink and his glasses covered most of his rounded face, he was smiling though; large curved eyes for happiness.

His sausage-like arms were crossed and he was holding a miniature spiral notebook. She had signed it, in a scribbled sort of signature: to my newest friend Kyouya-chan, from Kiyoko-chan, she had even added a heart.

"Do you like it?" There was no great expectation in her gaze, she was expecting an honest answer and surprisingly, Kyouya found himself giving one.

"I love it."

It was many hours later when the adults found the two children curled together, asleep under the table. They were angry of course, forced to search for the pair of troublemakers before being able to leave but the innocent scene before them helped to soften their irritation.

Kiyoko rubbed her eyes sleepily with her knuckles before giving Kyouya a small peck of the cheek.

"You better keep that picture forever," she yawned as she was carried away in her father's strong arms.

Kyouya felt his face burning as his older sister helped him to his feet; he clutched his notebook to his chest fiercely as his father pushed him towards the exit.

"Hey Kyouya-senpai, Tamaki-senpai needs to hand out the flyers for tomorrow's theme. Do you know where they are?" Haruhi hesitantly approached the older boy whose hands were flying across the keys of his laptop.

"Over on the far table in the front page of my ledger." He never removed his eyes from the glowing screen.

Haruhi wandered over, searching for the brightly coloured posters Tamaki had spent three agonizing hours designing. She opened Kyouya's notebook and retrieved the pink and yellow papers advertising the "Royal Court" cosplay when she noticed something out of the ordinary.

It was a picture, seemingly ripped from a notebook and carefully tapped on the back of the cover. It was slightly wrinkled signifying its age. A small chibi of Kyouya? It was cute, the way the artist had managed to make the little version of the vice-president both cute and menacing at the same time, and she had even managed to add the glare of his glasses. Haruhi had never heard of a Kiyoko, maybe she didn't go to Ouran.

Kyouya-chan? Haruhi smiled, it was nice to know Kyouya had at least one friend growing up.

"Did you find them Haruhi?"

"Yes senpai." Haruhi closed his book and returned to his table.

Haruhi wasn't one to pry into people's lives. She knew if Kyouya wanted the Host Club to see the child's picture he carried with him he would show them, she also knew that that moment would probably never happen but she accepted that. She somehow felt she had invaded his privacy by seeing it.

"Goodbye Kyouya-senpai, I'll see you tomorrow."

The door clicked softly behind her and the boy's fingers paused over the polished keys of his computer. He had of course noticed Haruhi's reaction to seeing the picture and praised her restraint and self-control over letting it be.

He had no idea where Kimiko was now, he had never seen her after that night at the party but he wasn't worried. He knew there was a strong probability of their paths crossing again.

Kyouya returned to his work, keys tapping away as quickly as before but this time there was a hint of a happy smile on the Shadow King's face.

Fin.

I hope you enjoyed reading ^_^ Now I'm off to bed!