Author's note: Alright, welcome to my first Ouran FanFic! I hope you enjoy it, and I'll try to update it as regularly as I can. Please feel free to comment, flame, whatever, I honestly want to hear your opinions so I can improve. If you have any requested pairing, feel free. I'm open to both yaoi and hetero pairings. The only reason that I won't write yuri for this fanfic is that I can't picture that going on in this universe…sorry. If you really want a yuri pairing, I'll try to write it in, but no promises!
Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran. If I did, I would be living with the incredibly hot, sexy beast that is Mori-sempai. Do not sue me for copyright infringement; this is bloody fanfiction . net, which means that the stories on here are written by fans, not the actual author. It's kinda obvious.
Chapter 1: Welcome to Preps – R – Us
I've never been a much of a sucker for things outside of scientific understanding. Karma, voodoo, spells, incantations, while they're fun to read about, they just don't exist. But as I stood in front my new school, eyes wide and jaw hanging in shock, two thoughts ran through my mind as I questioned my steady non-belief.
The first thought is probably the most obvious: This couldn't be the place. I mean, it was like a town in and of itself for Christ's sake! The buildings were simply gigantic, and the courtyard—if you could call it that—was essentially a park, equipped with ponds (probably filled with expensive koi), trees, benches, paths, and there was even a long, rectangular fountain-pond-thing down the center of it! Not to mention the Big-Ben-esque clock tower overshadowing the campus.
The second thought might appear to be less obvious at first, but if you think about it, it makes sense: Karma's a bitch. Like I said earlier, I don't even believe in karma, so the fact that that's what ran through my mind kinda pissed me off. You see, back in the States, I was a real punk. The head of a gang at age 12, I was a renowned lit-fuse who was well-known for her hatred of preps, and here I was a school that practically screamed wealth and influence. It didn't help that I was on a scholarship, either.
I checked the map my mom had printed off of the net, but sure enough, I was at the right place. I sighed, shouldered my backpack, and walked onto the campus.
The few others that were walking to school were all tough, mafia-esque looking dudes, all wearing the same blue and black suits, complete with black ties. The few that I made eye contact with nodded in acknowledgement when I gave them my patented death glare, which I have to admit, made me crack a smile. Who knows, this could be fun after all.
Everyone else came by car—and by car I mean limo—and that was when I noticed that all the guys getting out of the cars had on the same blue and black outfits, which meant that it was probably the school uniform. I could live with that. Hell, I might even be able to convince the dean to let me wear the pants instead of a skirt!
But that's when I saw it. The girls who were on campus were all wearing these long-sleeved mustard-yellow dresses, complete with poufy shoulders and skirts. They all wore off-white tights and black shoes, either ballerina or heels, and to finish off the repulsive freak of nature was a thin black bow tied around their necks. There was no way in hell I would be caught dead in that…that thing!
People stared as I strolled the length of the courtyard, making me feel a bit underdressed. Which I guess is normal for me, but I had thought that I looked almost decent today; I had on a tee-shirt from my favorite burger joint, Joe Shmoe's, tight-fitting blue jeans, and sneakers.
My little sister constantly complains that I have no fashion sense, but I beg to differ. My fashion sense is great! I just don't really care what I normally look like. For example, to go with my casual outfit, my hip-length copper hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail, my thick almost-uni-brow was furrowed over my glasses, and I was wearing a cubic zirconium post in my left year. I even had a purse—which was actually a murse(1)—slung over my shoulder.
With a scowl on my face, I made my way to the dean's office. I needed to get my schedule, after all. The door to the office seemed to touch the ridiculously high ceiling, its golden-copper knob at eye-level. I took in a deep breath, wiped the scowl off of my face, and knocked.
"Come in(2)," a man's voice said.
Opening the door, I thanked my lucky stars that I had been able to go to a K-8 immersion school via the Japanese program for all 9 years. The school was amazing, I had even managed to take French and Chinese starting in the sixth grade, but that's beside the point. Regardless, knowing that I could speak the language like a native did nothing to alleviate my fears of living in a new country or the feeling of being out of place. I walked inside and looked at the man sitting at the dean's desk. He was a blue-eyed blond, with a smile, age-lines, and a parental glint to his features.
"Um…I'm supposed to pick up my schedule?" I said nervously, "I just…well…did I come to the right place?" I figured that it would be better to play off as the nervous new kid on the block at first, until I had tested the waters to find out how deep I could go, as it were.
"Yes, you did," he replied, shuffling through the papers on his desk. He picked up a few, and then finally settled on one. Looking at me he asked, "Maddox Raille-chan(3), right?"
With a small nod I replied, "Yes, sir."
He handed me the paper, then said softly, "Welcome to Ouran High School, Maddox-chan."
With a small smile that I didn't feel, I bowed respectfully and said, "Thank you very much, sir."
Once I left his office, I looked at my schedule. All it said was Classroom 1-A, Hanatari-sensei(4). I knew where the classroom was, I had passed it on my way to the dean's office, and I knew that it wouldn't take too long to get there.
Nearly all the desks were empty, so I grabbed one near the back and arranged my stuff. I then sat at the desk, lay down my head, and promptly fell asleep.
I woke up when a pair of twin guys—HOT twin guys at that—walked over to my desk. I lifted my head to get a better look at them, and held back an appreciative whistle. At a glance, they were identical in their sexy goodness. However, one parted his spiky rust-colored hair on the left and had more worry lines on his forehead. The other parted his hair on the right, and his eyes held the distinct glint of a mischievous prankster.
"That's my seat," this second twin said.
I blinked slowly, and then gave the room an obvious scanning glance. I calmly leaned back and addressed the two juicy boys, "This isn't /kindergarten/," I said in a deliberate monotone, smiling pleasantly at the duo, "We don't have assigned seats. And to use the coined phrase, I was here first. Therefore this seat is not in fact yours, but mine. As you can see, there are plenty of other seats left unclaimed. By no means would it be unreasonable for you to simply find somewhere else to sit."
They gaped at me, and I mentally patted myself on the back for not losing my temper, even if it did make me look like a total geek. After a few seconds—how dare this person insult someone of wealth and status?—they recovered and exchanged looks.
"I don't think you get it," the second twin said, his eyebrow twitching in irritation, "We always sit in these two seats. And Kaoru always gets the window seat."
Now that I thought about it, I was one desk away from the window seat. I just smiled my most—or so I'm told—intimidating smile and replied, "Not this year, you don't. But if you absolutely insist on having the two seats closest to the window, you'd best /scram/ and get them in a different row now, before they're all gone."
The second twin glared at me, then opened his mouth to say something when the first twin—Kaoru, I think his name was—put a hand on his shoulder.
"It's not worth it, Hikaru," he said, "Let it drop."
The second twin—Hikaru, apparently—shrugged off his brother's hand, glared once more at me, then turned on his heel and muttered, "Whatever."
They ended up taking seats in the row directly in front of me, and I smiled appreciatively when I noticed that it would be very easy to ogle them without notice.
Just when I had settled down to go back to sleep, a girl wearing a baggy sweater over a white, crumpled collared polo shirt and too-long blue jeans sat down at the window seat next to me. Her hair was cut haphazardly short in what looked like a boy's cut, almost as if she had done it herself with a pair of scissors. She, like me, wore glasses, though hers were thicker than mine, and her hair was a mousy-brown.
I smiled at her, and was pleasantly surprised when she smiled back.
"Hi," I said, holding out a hand, "I'm /Raille, Raille Maddox/. What's your name?"
"Haruhi," she replied as she shook my proffered hand, "Fujioka Haruhi. Nice to meet you, Maddox-kun(5)."
I bit back a laugh. I mean, sure, my boobs are nearly non-existent, so I guess mistaking me for a guy wasn't too much of an unreasonable assumption. It wasn't the first time it had happened, sadly enough. For it to occur in more than one country…either I was the butt of an international joke, or I had gender issues.
"Nice to meet you too, Fujioka-chan."
That was all of the discussion we managed to have until lunch, because despite appearances, the classes were all above the average difficulty. The bell finally rang, signaling the end of the morning classes and the beginning of the lunch hour.
"Say, Fujioka-chan," I said, tapping her desk with my finger, "Want to eat lunch together? I ended up packing more in my bento(6) than I can justify eating."
She smiled at me, nodded, and replied, "Sure."
We grabbed our bentos and headed out into the courtyard. It was a nice day, and the sun winked in and out from behind fluffy white clouds.
"So," I said once we were done eating, "What's got you here at /Preps-R-Us/?"
She gave me a blank look, and I resisted smacking myself in the forehead for my stupidity for speaking in English.
"Sorry," I said sheepishly, "I meant 'Ouran'."
"I want to become a lawyer, and this is one of the best schools in the area." She paused thoughtfully—I sensed a story there but I wasn't going to pry just yet—and then asked, "What about you?"
I grimaced, and then admitted, "I honestly have no idea. My parents got me to take a bunch of scholarship entrance exams right before we moved here from the states, and they chose this school for me. But if I had to pin it on something…loath as I am to admit it, it would probably be karma."
"Karma?"
I shrugged slightly.
"Despite my oh-so-pleasant personality," I drawled, pausing as she giggled before continuing more seriously, "I was—well, still am actually—a…delinquent, I think is the term. Or was it Yankee?" I paused again, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. Unfortunately, I came up short. "I guess you could call me a yakuza(7), I ran a gang back home in the States." I looked at her, expecting a shocked of disgusted reaction, and I must admit that I was pleasantly surprised to see neither reaction on her face.
If I had to pin a reason why I continued to admit something I had never told anyone else, that would probably be the reason. No one had ever been that nice when I had told them what I had been and done, it was quite refreshing.
"I never really wanted to be in a gang," I admitted shyly, "Starting off; I just wanted a release, you know? Something I could control in my life, something that I could do, and that turned into a need to protect the people I cared about. Where I lived, the only way to do that was to join a gang. But I ended up getting in too deep, got in way over my head. That's probably my dad applied for a transfer, he doesn't think gang life is the place for a girl." I smiled sadly and ran my fingers through my ponytail. "He's probably right. But it's nearly all I've ever known."
This time when I looked at Haruhi, she was shocked. Well, I can't say I didn't expect it, but it still hurt.
"Sorry," I said, getting up to leave, "I didn't mean to unload my problems on you—"
"That's not it," she said hastily, "Really! It's just…"
"Just what?" I prompted half-heartedly.
"It's just…you're a girl?"
I started laughing.
"What?" she demanded.
Shaking my head as I fought to regain my breath I replied, "Out of everything I said, what surprised you was my gender? I must really be androgynous!" I smiled, and then continued, "Yeah, I'm a girl. But you're not the first person to think otherwise." After a pause I added, "Back in the States, I used to get hit on my both guys and girls all the time! It was pathetic!"
Haruhi giggled.
"Should I start calling you 'Raille-kun', then?" she joked.
"Call me Rai-kun, but only if I can call you Haru-chan!" I replied, laughing more naturally now.
And that's how I met Haruhi, the first person I could call a friend in this hell-hole, Ouran.
(1): A murse is a man-purse; it looks a lot like a knapsack.
(2): Dialogue written without / -words- / are being spoken in Japanese. With / -words- / is in English.
(3): -chan is used to express endearment, mostly toward girls. It is also used for little boys, pets, and even among lovers. It gives a sense of childish cuteness. Also, in Japanese, the last name is said before the first. It is also considered rude to address someone by their first name unless they are very familiar with them, as it is a sign of closeness.
(4): Sensei literally means "one who has come before," this title is used for teachers, doctors, authors, or masters of any profession or art.
(5): -kun is a suffix used at the end of boys' names to express familiarity or endearment. It is also sometimes used by men among friends, or when addressing someone younger or of a lower station.
(6): Bento is basically Japanese for lunchbox. It tends to be a box filled with food, wrapped up in a cloth handkerchief.
(7): The yakuza are the Japanese mafia.
