Figs. of Imagination by Tori Lo
It was pouring rain outside, lumbering droplets hitting the limousine's windows and making everything look blurry. Viona Nicolet sighed and laid back in her seat, the black leather making soft squeaking sounds. Today was her first day at Ouran High school.
Viona had heard plenty of things from her father about the school, blabbering on and on about it's prestigiousness. Viona didn't want to go, and his jabber only vexed her more.
It wasn't because she didn't like the school—heaven's no!—it was because it was mid-October, one of the worst times to transfer to a new school in Japan. October was the month centered around the holiday Halloween, and a Halloween without friends or people you know can be rough. Coming to a new school, having previous knowledge of absolutely no one, and then having to celebrate something as communic as Halloween, was dreadful in Viona's mind.
She would've loved Halloween if it weren't for these minor set-backs—all the dressing up made Viona's head rush—and probably would've gone all out on her costume this year. Being rich was such a huge plus when it came to things like Halloween costumes.
"We're here, Ma'am," the driver said in English after he stopped the car. "Best be hurrying, too; there are cars behind us."
"Quite right." Viona exited the car and tried not to slam it. A few seconds later the limo pulled away from the dry-zone, another one riding in. Feet in a scuttle, her uniform's ruffles flowing and annoying, Viona turned and started climbing the dozen stairs. After taking the first five steps, Viona could feel a delicate arm wrap around her waist and feel herself spinning around—dangerous acrobats on these steep stairs. She was rested and held close to a blond-haired, purple-eyed young man, face inches from her face and aura sparkling. She thought the sparkles were too much.
"You, Princess... Are you new? Please allow my princely self to show you around," the boy said, voice low and velvety. It didn't go too well with his face and she immediately began criticizing this man. Who was he? And why was he doing this this to her? ...Did he just call her a princess?
"Flattery will get you nowhere fast," came her sharp, quick reply. Viona freed herself from his grasp and returned to her stair-climbing. When she heard a dramatic outcry she whizzed around to see the boy feigning broken. It made a smile come to her lips, watching the scene.
"Such cruelty!" He clutched his heart and bent down dramatically, as if crying. Was this supposed to be a display show put on for chummy newcomers? As if I'd fall for it, she told herself, but couldn't help but smile at the young man's show.
"Who are you?"
At once, the boy was upright and handsome-looking again, as if nothing 'cruel' had ever happened. "Suoh Tamaki. You are?" He took a few steps closer, right knee kneeling and left arm outstretched towards her. Viona laughed lightly, giving in a little to the performance.
"Nicolet Viona." Her reply was just as flat as before, but wasn't holding even tenth the acidity. Tamaki bowed lower, and Viona bowed back, rising first. "Are you done?" He looked up at her, eyes a bit wide, ends of his lips pulling down slightly. Viona ignored it and smiled. "That was a nice little performance, there, Suoh-san. Well rehearsed; do you have to do it every time someone new comes?" she continued innocently.
In the blink of an eye Tamaki was in the nearest corner, sobbing and what was called 'depression lines' looming over his head. Was that a mushroom, too? "Oh, you alright?" Her question was flat, not at all holding honesty in them.
"What happened now?" Viona turned her vision towards the lower stairs, where stood a feminine boy with brown chin-length hair.
"I beg your pardon?" Viona frowned and scowled. Who was he?
The boy sighed and took a few more steps up. "Has this guy been bothering you?" Tamaki spun around at the clearer voice of this boy and immediately latched onto him.
"Haruhi!" came his wail. "I haven't seen you in forever!" Haruhi seemed to have a deadpanned expression as she shoved Tamaki off.
"Why don't you leave people to their own business and stop bothering them?" he asked, pointing in Viona's general direction then letting his arm flop back down. At least he was being a whole less rude than Tamaki.
"What are you talking about?" Tamaki's whole face seemed to droop, genuine upset.
"You know what I mean. After last year I assumed you'd stop with that obvious flirting... but I guess you didn't after all." Haruhi was shaking his head, looking disappointed. Viona took this small dispute as her chance to escape. She quickly shifted away from the scene and headed for her classroom, being almost late for homeroom.
She had made it into class A1, and was actually pretty proud of that achievement. The next big thing was to stay in it. A steady pace was never Viona's specialty, preferring jolts and spurts of things. Like major studying for an exam, or suddenly running a marathon for no good reason.
When lunch came, there was a lot of chatter about something called the Host Club, and from what all the girls were saying—and heading to—it sounded like a bunch of bishonen in an empty music room whoring themselves out. It wasn't exactly that, Viona knew, but that's sure what it sounded like. On her first day, though, the host club didn't sound like something Viona wanted to visit. Instead, she saved it for another day, like her second day.
It was just starting to get dark when Viona arrived home. The rain had stopped halfway through the ride, and the clouds were just beginning to part. "I'm home, Father!" she called as the servants changed her clothing right there in the foyer. They all spoke a very fast Japanese that always made Viona think twice about what they were saying. None of them spoke Dutch or English, which meant there'd be no guests over from the Netherlands during her stay, she guessed.
"Welcome home, Viona, mijn snoepje! How was your first day at school? Was Ouran the right choice?" Viona's father, Bonifaas, walked in the room just in time to have her fully dressed in house clothes. He wore a thick housecoat and open-toed slippers—God forbid him wear closed ones!—and brandy in his left hand. The two of them walked together into the parlor, sitting in lavish chairs before the fireplace.
"It was alright. There were some interesting characters," she said, remembering that morning with crisp vision—how could she forget? "There's a club there called the host club. A lot of the girls are into it, so I'm thinking about checking it out tomorrow at lunch."
Bonifaas was nodded along with his daughter, intently listening. Upon hearing the news of the host club, his eyes glistened. "Ah, yes. I've heard only great things about that club, mijn pop," he said. "I'd like it if you got into it, too, please?"
Viona shook her head softly. "I make no promises, Father." She looked from the fire to her father's eyes. They seemed to be pleading. What could he have hiding up his sleeve.
"Tevreden? Please?"
She raised an eyebrow. "What could you gain from be becoming friendly with these host club members, Vader?Papa?" Bonifaas hunched down, swishing what was left of his drink around the glass. He glanced up at her.
"Economic profits," he stated flatly. He was probably where Viona got her monotone from.
Viona relaxed in her chair when she heard her father's words. "That's fine, then, Father. Do you know what families are important?" Bonifaas nodded his head from side to side, making a 'sort of' kind of gesture. "Well? Who?"
"Ohtori, Suoh, and Hitachiin. The Haninozuka and Morinozuka families used to be a part of it, too, but they've graduated." Viona nodded her head along with her father, her heart sinking every time. Ball-joint dolls don't go far in this world, so she knew her father had to make as many connections as he could. That, and try to have as many people as possible be in debt to him. This itself wasn't an easy task, though, especially when his only daughter was all the way in the Netherlands.
"I get it," she said, and sulked away to her room.
Now that she was mentally prepared, Viona held true to her words and visited the host club. It was lunchtime, and the halls leading to the third floor's music room were a bit crowded with girls bustling and chatting away. As she was about to enter the room, her hand wavered, much to the jostle of the girls behind her.
That Tamaki man was going to be in here, her father had told her. Suoh. Suoh. Suoh. He frightened her a bit, but hopefully where one was so would the other: Haruhi-kun. With hope, that Haruhi boy would be there, too.
"Move aside and let us through, gaijin. You're wasting our lunchtime," one of the girls behind Viona pushed past her and went through the doors. Viona watched in dismay as the girls she was holding up walked past her, a few giving her frustrated looks, others looking sadly at her, as if pitying. She frowned as she walked back in front of the doors and followed.
Inside the third floor music room, where she's heard 'that's where the magic begins,' only a meager three times—mostly from first years like herself—was a swash of good-looking young men being crowded by women. For a few moments she stared at it in subtle awe, before she actually began taking in who was there and not what.
As her eyes scanned, she hadn't noticed a black haired glasses-man stride beside her. That is, until she looked in his pure direction. He smiled. She frowned. Awkward emotions began to fill the air for a few seconds. "Ah, hello," she finally said, coughing a bit.
"Are you alright? Do you need something to drink?" he asked, motioning to a cart full of teas, treats, and other good-stuff-fluff.
"Ah. Um. No, thank you." Viona looked nervously at the cart for some long seconds, both wanting and fearing it.
"You're new?" It sounded more like a statement than a question, but Viona nodded anyway. "Nicolet Viona, year one, class A. Transfer student from the British School of Amsterdam..." As this man began listing off her history, Viona loss attention and began wandering. The man obviously wouldn't notice, considering he was paying close attention to his clipboard.
It was true, that this host club had beautiful young men, and that she looked at them positively. What use could they possibly provide her with?
"Nicolet-san?" Viona turned her head and saw the black haired glasses-guy looking at her. He looked disappointed. She didn't want to go back, already getting tired of the fakeness he seemed to ooze. She turned from him and started walking towards the door. This wasn't a good idea to come, she had no plan as to how to get friendly with the host club. Her father might be disappointed in her tonight, but that'd be okay. She'd have a plan tomorrow.
Struck with host club infiltration ideas for the rest of the day and all night, it was hard for Viona to do her homework. The next day, Viona decided a time without customers to visit the host club: morning. Thanks to her female, ogling, and ultimately idiotic classmates, Viona knew a lot about the club and their members than she'd ever hoped. After some simple eavesdropping and being snooty, she'd come up with a perfect plan for infiltration.
That morning started earlier, and she left for school before her father left for work. "Mighty early to be goin' ta school, wouldn't you think, Ma'am?" the driver said as he pulled away. It was a silver Lexus car today.
"Thanks for the reminder, Vanier, but I have plans this morning."
"Is that so? Well, then, I wish you good luck. By the way, Halloween's coming up. How about doin' something with the servants and I if you've got no plans?" Vanier's head turned slightly to give Viona more notice, and she shrugged.
"If I'm not busy, but there'll be no promises."
"Got'cha." The rest of the ride was silent, and comfortable. As the car rode up to the front stairs, Viona noticed there was practically no one else there. Mostly the nerds and overachievers. "Pick up late or regular time, Ma'am?"
"Uh. Between the bunch?"
"Righty. See you this afternoon, Ma'am!" Viona closed the door and Vanier drove away. Immediately after he was out of sight, Viona started heading for the third floor music room.
As she had predicted, thanks to the knowledge of her classmates and of her own, there were no customers there. In fact, the area was like a dead zone, no doors anywhere for the next hundred feet.
Gently, Viona knocked on the pristine white doors, the knock itself echoing in the empty halls. After some time there comes a faint, "Come in!" and then a tumbling sound. Viona hurriedly opens the door to see Tamaki toppled over a beautiful red velvet chair, lavishly carved and accented. Besides him, the scene was staged perfectly, the other six members surrounding the chair in presentable stances. The fact they were quite presentable and even attractive in those stances made the whole scene alluring, Viona wishing she could be the centerpiece of it all. It was a wild girl's dream, though, and easily cast from her mind in whole.
"It's Nicolet-san," the black haired glasses-guy said. Viona rolled her eyes and took a few more steps within the music room, door closing behind her. Right after the door closed the beautiful scene unfolded, like a beached walrus flopping around after it's slumber. "What would you like?" he continued.
Gaining her 'corporate' posture, Viona coughed and breathed in. It was taking a lot more guts and confidence than she had initially thought it would. "I'd like to propose a business offer to the host club," she said flatly, "but first, I'd like to get to know your names." Knowing the names was one thing—which she had—but knowing who was who was another thing. The glasses-guy raised his eyebrows and a grin appeared on his lips.
"You should already know me!" Tamaki said, straightening up and cleaning up his school uniform. "And Haruhi, too!" Tamaki grabbed Haruhi, resting his arm around his shoulder.
Moving on...
Viona's eyes turned from host to host as they named themselves off and explained a small bit of information about themselves—namely, their 'type.'
"Ichirou Kaito-san, considerate type, and Jean-Pierre Leo-san, foreign type, are part timers, and aren't working today," Kyouya said flatly, looking at his clipboard. He raised his head to look at the closed laptop on a table, shook his head lightly, and went back to the clipboard.
After the naming business was done, Kyouya got down to the offer. He and Viona sat down at a table, most of the hosts behind him, looming over his shoulders to look at the laptop screen. "What sort of offer would you like to make, Nicolet-san?"
"One that's based off of ball joint dolls." Viona's hands were folded together on the table, her legs crossed and moving back and forth under the table. She tried to hold confidence to maintain that professional air. Kyouya looked incredulously at her, laughing slightly.
"Impossible. There's no way we could make any profit off of a deal with the daughter of a ball joint doll company. Don't think I don't know who you are, Nicolet-san."
"Oh, I know. I planned on it, because then I wouldn't have to do so much explaining. But... um, I fail to see how there'll be no profit for you."
The smile on Kyouya's lips didn't grow, nor fade. "What could we gain? What could a host club gain from ball joint dolls?"
Viona huffed and looked down at her hands. "Well... My father's been loosing some business from our Netherlands BJD plant, and hoped to make it up with even massiver scaled sales here in Japan. What could be a greater opportunity, for both of our sides?" She tilted her head from side to side, thinking over her plan again. "My father's company will supply privatelly modeled ball joint dolls to the host club for a cheap price, where you can steadily sell them to your customers."
"Still not enough sales. This is a school full of rich people; every customer will eventually have a doll of all the hosts. It's not steady enough to base a deal on."
"Okay, okay." Viona put her right hand to her temple, still thinking, head down. "Dolls will only become available to the most loyal and frequent customers. And even then, they'll receive a random host? Also, our company can create limited edition type clothing for exclusive purchase. How about that?"
"I think you have trouble with your Japanese." Kyouya grinned and Viona frowned.
"Don't make fun of me, this is off topic. ...And, if you do care to mind, I'm very good at writing kanji."
"Kanken?"
"Level four," Viona said proudly.
"JPLT?"
"Agh. Level two; my listening drags me down." Viona rolls her eyes nervously, as if passing the fact aside.
"Deal."
"Hm?" Viona, caught off guard, stared at him, straight faced. "Deal? ...You agree to the deal?"
"I do, but we'll have to change some things about the dolls."
"Great! Any chance of me staying around and doing other stuff during host club hours?" Viona stood excitedly, pushing the chair away from her.
"You can—if you want to be harassed by our customers for being close to us." Kyouya had on a glass smile, perfectly acted out down to the eyes. Viona felt like hitting him.
"Right. I'll go, then. I'll come by tomorrow morning and we can discuss this further." Viona turned to go but Tsururu Kasai, artistic type, threw a piece of paper at the back of her head. She zipped around, eyes narrowed, but was surprised to see Kasai staring at her.
"You can't date any of the host club's permanent members." Kasai's face was serious, and looked contrasting to how he was when he introduced himself.
A bit unnerved, Viona nodded. "Right." And then left.