Prologue : The root of my hate.

My name is Osamu Canovello, and I am a stud.

When I walk down the hall, both women and men alike flock towards my shining manly presence.

I am showered with the many gifts of my many admirers.

What ever I say is right, and I am worshiped like a god.

I rule this school.

The world is my oyster and everyone loves me.

and

That's how it would be if that dumb host club never existed.

I ignored the teacher droning about equations and formulas, letting it fade into the background as a faint white noise. Instead I allowed my head to be swarmed by thoughts of irritation and ire. A soft breeze floated my way though, snapping me out of my anger laced mental introduction. Wait a minute how the hell is it breezy in here all the windows are closed-

Oh wait. It must be them.

I glance downwards towards them from my seat by the window, placed in the back just like a true anime protagonist.

Glaring out said window, I look to find a hosting an event outdoors. Of course it was them.

There, a group sat on a picnic blanket, not only excluded from class for the day, but surrounded by giggling girls. The group was made up of handsome guys the whole school knew.

That damn, stupid host club.

Said stupid Host Club was doing a stupid tea ceremony of some sort instead of stupid classes because they got special privileges. I can only assume they get all these exemptions from rules due to nepotism. Lots and lots of rich and privileged nepotism. If only, I think wistfully as I harden my look of pure hatred, that idiot I'm required to call my father granted me such privileges. Instead I get a crummy apartment. Someone as perfect as myself shouldn't have to be put through such trials when that stupid club of stupid teens weren't.

The group starts to laugh, and I wonder if I can sue these jerks for having such a good time when the great me isn't. Their repulsive laughter snaps me out of self pity, and I began to instead compare myself to the so called socialite elites, just as a way of reaffirming my superiority.

My gaze focused in on the leader of the club in particular, examining his blond locks and comparing them to my much more fashionable hairstyle. I looked at the Hitachiin twins and imagined my own much more talented acting skills. I made my way to Kyoya and mused over my amazing ability to rock glasses despite not needing them. Examining all the girls, and thought about how many of them would have flocked to me if these jerks weren't there.

A stray flower pedal from their presence fluttered through the window (again what the hell the windows were closed) and onto the floor, just out of my stomping reach.

Perhaps if I glare at it hard enough it will spontaneously combust.

With the thought I turned back to the hosts. Maybe if I glare at them hard enough they'll spontaneously combust.

Because they are the problem. Not my long lashes or slim figure or long braided hair. It's not me that's deterring my studliness.

It's them. Really.

My name is Osamu Canovello, and I am totally a stud.

Dear reader, you may not know this, but one must work hard to maintain their studliness. They must always be perfectly groomed, and shrouded in mystery and coolness. They must always have something witty to say, and always be confident to the point of narcissism. And sometimes, a stud must do something a little extra to keep up their reputation.

For me, that means finding a way to destroy and or plan the suspicious and sudden deaths of the host club.

Hence my current spot behind this wall, following after the dumb blond that has taken my spot at the top of the food chain. Not stalking him (of course not; I'm tailing the guy in hopes of finding his weaknesses, not to steal locks of his hair and hang them up in a make shift sempai shrine) but still eyeing him never the less. And the steadily growing crowd of ladies around him.

That damn Suoh looked so smug, all roses and compliments and "princess" this and "dearest" that. Teeth bit down on my lower lip as I clenched my hands into slow fists as even more girls came up to the already crowded male to chat with him.

And in my hazy anger, I am pushed aside by even more girls damn it and fall backwards, hitting something hard before falling onto the ground.

Or hitting someone it seams, if the impatient tapping of a foot my my head is anything to go by.

Crap.

Looking up from the well-polished shoes, I found a pair of slim legs followed by a pair of beautiful hips and then a well-toned chest. Above that was a slender neck and then a stoic face, the only sign of expression in one slightly lifted perfect eyebrow behind glasses. oh god glasses that means-

Instantly regretting every decision I've ever made ever (because if anyone knew I had been stalkin- no, just following- Suoh it would be this demonic looking fellow that may actually be the literal devil), I began to covertly crawl backwards. Maybe if I pretend I was just excited to see him, he'll decide I'm just one of the girls that worship that dumb club or whatever and more importantly spare my soul.

Instantly I flinched at the blow to my manly pride. What was I thinking assuming I could even remotely be mistaken for female? How could this day get any worse?

(I shouldn't have even though such a dangerous phrase; the universe surely heard it)

"You're Osamu Canovello, yes?" He observed coolly, as if I wasn't a total mess on the floor. "I think we should have a talk."

It got worst.

Damn my need to be the superior stud.

So this is basically a satire of every oc story ever, in case you haven't noticed. But rather then a girl faking it as a boy alongside Haruhi, or a Girl as the 'first hostess", or just a straight up boy joining, we have the lovely Osamu Canovello- a pompous egotistical "stud" who has the unfortunate luck of being blessed with girly features and constantly being mistaken for a girl despite him identifying as 100% dude. And then he becomes a hostess. Because that is the top quality kind of fanfiction people want to read in this day and age am I right?

...right?

Anyways, this is intended to be in no way taken seriously, and perhaps will never update again. Maybe It'll update tomorrow. Who knows.

Anyways, shout out to Teddy for giving me this lovely idea in the first place- because using long and drawn out author notes that no one actually cares about for my own personal "thank yous" is important and essential to writing a fanfiction. Am I right? Right?

... no seriously.

Anyways, see you perhaps eventually, at maybe O'Clock.