A new story that I've been wanting to ease myself into since three years ago when I left. The beginning will move slow, because I need to change a few things and redefine a few characters. Bear with me. The story will move slow, and I'm not going to add any Kyoya conflict until it makes sense, so don't ask me for it if you don't see it.

Events will stay close to the manga. If you haven't read it, this series will have spoilers. I've read and own the entire series, so I'll be referencing it directly, but deviating to favor Mori. If you don't want spoilers, don't read, because I'm saying it now:

No seriously. There are spoilers.

POV will switch between characters as needed. Long bricks of italicized text indicate a flashback.

A Burden's Weight

Mori had always disliked having to turn his head to look at things when his body was facing a different way. He liked to look at things as they came, and face them fully. His current position, standing beside the shorter members of the host club left him in just such an uncomfortable position. With his body facing the back of the room and his head posed dramatically to the side, he felt slightly irritated. It hurt his neck to be standing so awkwardly. Not that he would ever mention that he was annoyed or uncomfortable, or adjust his stance. He was humoring Tamaki's request for a more "stylish" assembly. Humoring people was something he did often.

Mitsukuni, knowing him and his irritations tugged his sleeve to remind him that it was only a few minutes.

Just as he was about to twist his head away from the front and stretch his cramping neck, the door on the other end of the hideous floral print carpet creaked open. He smoothed the look on his face to something that suggested an impassive contentedness as opposed to disgruntled irritation.

And for naught, he thought, as a mousy ragamuffin of a boy stepped into the room. His demeanor did not change back however, as now the host club members were free to move about and could thus see the look on his face. He turned his whole body to face the door, a held breath escaping his comfortably silent lips.

"Welcome!" chimed the host club in unison. The boy jumped, the books he was carrying flying from his hands to the floor. Clutching at his chest with one hand and supporting himself with the other against the closed door, the boy looked frazzled.

Well. More than he already was. His hair was a mess. Surprising really, since everyone at Ouran looked particularly well groomed at any given moment. Tamaki and the twins had been talking about the boy, but Mori had not been listening. Kyoya chose that moment to explain how thick skinned the mouse must be to attend a school such as Ouran.

"In short Fujioka, you're a trailblazer!" gesticulated Tamaki, spreading his arm to a blazed trail that only he could see. "You're the top student in your class, but poorer than a church mouse! Some may call you a weed, or despise your low-class status!" As he continued to explain the boy's situation animatedly, Mori congratulated himself on his choice of the word mousy to describe him.

But was the boy really so poor? No…not poor. Just common. It was easy to forget that the majority of planet Earth wasn't as well off as the people at Ouran sometimes. He took note of the twins turning their noses up disgustedly at the raggedy sweater that the newcomer was sporting. It was ridiculously oversized, and he was practically drowning in all of the fabric. Could it be… a hand-me-down? It was more than likely.

"What is your type? Wild?" Mori snapped to attention and focused on the boy. He did NOT want to host for another man, no matter how effeminate he looked. "Boy Lolita?" And while Mitsukuni didn't look like he would mind the attention, Mori decidedly did not want him to serve a male customer either.

"N-No! I don't want any type, I was just looking for a place-

"Haru-chan, are you really a crusader? Do you have tales of rescuing princesses? I love those!" Mori belatedly realized that his small cousin had approached the mouse and was tugging on his sleeve. He knew already that this would end poorly for Mitsukuni, and walked purposefully toward the short pair.

"WHO YOU CALLIN' HARU-CHAN?" The brunette yelled, practically growling into Mitsukuni's face. When the small blonde turned away in tears, Mori was there to console him.

"Look, I was just trying to find a quiet place," the boy began to backpedal, but didn't notice the extremely expensive vase behind him. "So excuse me-

And then, too late, he realized something was amiss as his back hit the very expensive vase, and that very expensive vase hit the very hard floor. As it shattered, Mori glanced at Kyoya. He looked particularly displeased.

Mori had expected a silence to follow the deafening crash of the pot on the ground, but Hikaru and Kaoru filled it with verbal guilt.

"That vase was by Rune. It was to be the featured item in the next school auction…" one of them said, a dry look on his face.

"The bidding was going to start at eight million yen, but I don't think it'll fetch that now."

"I-I'll pay for it!" the newcomer stuttered, staring at the broken pieces of the vase in horror.

"You bet you will, but how?" Kaoru said, almost taking a pitying tone with the boy.

"You can't even afford a uniform!" said Hikaru, scoffing.

"Well, Tamaki? How should we handle this?"

Tamaki seemingly ignored Kyoya, and directed his question at the boy. "Fujioka, are you familiar with the phrase 'when in Rome, do as the Romans do?' and this – 'if you don't have the cash, pay with your carcass?' As of today, you're the host club's dogsbody!"

Fujioka visibly paled, and looked like he was going to be sick.

"Is he going to be alright?" Mitsukuni whispered, looking up at Mori confusedly.

"Mhm."

"Takashi, what do you think?" Mitsukuni asked sleepily, hitching a ride on the taller's shoulders.

"…He'll be okay."

"I meant about just him." Mitsukuni buried his face in his cousin's hair, wishing he could go back to sleep.

"…Well what do you think?" Mori didn't really have an opinion about Fujioka yet, and so he turned Mitsukuni's question back onto him.

"He's going to have a hard time, I think," the blonde said slowly, "but I want to make it easier for him, Takashi."

"Mm." That meant that Takashi would make it easier for him, too. At least, he would try.

Stepping into the club room, the two were met by greetings from host club and customer alike. As Mitsukuni explained their tardiness, Mori noted that Fujioka seemed to be halfheartedly apologizing to Tamaki for something, and the twins were pushing the crouching blonde on the floor. He was still scruffy; it seemed to Mori that it might be more prudent to dress Fujioka well themselves if he couldn't afford it, but he didn't say anything.

Mori felt eyes on him as he dropped Mitsukuni from his back to the floor near his guests. In his peripheral vision, he saw Tamaki and Fujioka looking at them both. It didn't bother him; he imagined that if anything needed to be explained, it would be the two of them. Fujioka's head tilted to the left and looked at Mitsukuni: no doubt wondering his true age. It was hard to tell through the glare on the scruffy boy's glasses if his puzzled look had made it to Mori or not. Despite his slight discomfort, Mori settled himself and his cousin at the table.

This table, Mori's favorite, happened to be in the corner. He liked it best because he could see the entirety of Music Room #3. He preferred it this way; he was able to keep an eye on everything, and more importantly, everyone. He considered it his duty to be the watchful hawk for the hosts and their guests. Mori's few guests were used to his taciturn manners, and didn't mind that his gaze occasionally swept the room. He served tea to his and Mitsukuni's ladies, and cake as well, then spent the next ten minutes drifting between the conversation at his own table and others. Mainly, he watched how Fujioka handled Tamaki's zealous training methods. He tuned in as the conversation between the king and the dog turned to Fujioka's family.

"He works at night."

"Guess that puts a crimp in things. He doesn't pay tuition either?" Tamaki seemed to settle as the conversation turned to a more sobering subject.

"It's not that...I mean, we're okay. He just has money problems. It's been rough, y'know? I don't want to burden him. Along with everything else, he was stuck raising me all by himself for ten years."

I wonder what happened to his mother.

Tamaki seemed to blubber incomprehensibly, before yelling something that was quite a shock to everyone in the room;

"If you can garner 100 customer requests, I'll waive your debt to the Host Club!" He seemed pretty pleased with himself.

Fujioka, however, did not. He looked fearful: almost as if Mitsukuni had challenged him to a fight.

Sympathizing with Fujioka, Mori watched for the better part of an hour as Tamaki began to relay as many "gentlemanly" manners to the ragamuffin freshman as he could spit out. In fact, Mori almost didn't notice as Mitsukuni excused himself from the table, Usa-chan hugged to his chest.

His eyes followed his tiny cousin as he approached Fujioka.

"Haru! Wanna share some cake with me?" His cousin's smile could charm the fuzz off a peach.

Fujioka's reply seemed to be polite refusal, as Mitsukuni then offered Usa-chan to the boy. He seemed to refuse that as well, but after a few moments, smiled gently and took the stuffed rabbit into his arms. Hunny returned to the table triumphant, and beamed in Mori's direction.

Interesting.

Soon after, Tamaki called for Haruhi.

"Fujioka! We're out of coffee!"

"So? What do you want me to do about it?" His tone was confusedly indifferent, as if expecting an order.

"Go to the market and get some, of course! Kyoya will give you money. Be back by four!" Tamaki turned back to his customers, leaving Fujioka to his own devices. Mori looked to Kyoya, who was opening his briefcase to remove the appropriate funds.

Two pairs of glasses spoke quietly to each other, and from his place at the table, he saw an expression of pure terror flash on Fujioka's face, followed by Kyoya pushing up his glasses. He could only imagine what threat the vice president had issued Fujioka.

"Does Haru-chan know where to shop?" chimed Hunny, swallowing a large forkful of cake. Mori gave him a look that said, 'Take smaller bites.'

"I'll go."

"Okay! Be back soon, Takashi!" Mitsukuni cut himself another bite of cake, half the size as the last. Mori excused himself from the table as Kyoya dismissed Fujioka.

"Does he know where to go?" Kyoya was tapping away on his laptop once again.

"I offered to give him directions; he said he could figure it out." Kyoya continued to type. "Besides. What kind of a dogsbody would he be if we have to send someone with him every time he goes out?" Kyoya seemed to be enjoying the fact that with Fujioka around, Hosts didn't have to give up appointment space to customers to run errands.

Mori was about to get more snacks from the cabinet when a grating voice piped up from the couch behind him.

"I've heard, Master Tamaki, that you're raising a kitten without a proper pedigree." She made no attempt to mask her disgust.

Kyoya looked past the tall senior, at who Mori guessed was the owner of the voice. He did not turn himself; he recognized the voice as one of Tamaki's regular customers.

Tamaki didn't seem to pay attention to her tone, and played along with the metaphor until the conversation moved on.

Kyoya gave Mori a glance that seemed to tell him "Keep your eyes on that one."

Not that he needed to tell that to Mori, of all people.

Fujioka returned a short time later with a large grocery bag. Tamaki jumped up from his place on the couch to investigate what he had come back with, and his customers followed suit.

There was a brief scuffling as the king unpacked the bag, and confusion in the air as he examined a small container full of brown powder.

"Not ground coffee. Instant." With these words, the whole room's attention seemed to be diverted to the container. When Mitsukuni got up to join the group near Tamaki, Mori followed.

"So it's true! Poor people don't have time to grind their beans!"

Mori watched with interest as the group fawned over Fujioka making the coffee, and Mitsukuni's excitement seemed to rub off on him as well, though he didn't show it. He took a few steps away from the table to observe the room.

Now that he was really looking, the grocery bag that Fujioka had brought in wasn't really that large; he was just a small person. In addition, he noticed that the girl who had spoken nastily of Fujioka earlier had remained in her seat, and was giving the besweatered freshman a very dark look.

Mitsukuni handed him a cup of the instant coffee. He tried it; it was painful at best. He quickly grabbed a forkful of fruit tart from the nearest table and as Mitsukuni took a long sip of the coffee, held it up to the blonde's mouth.

As he had expected, Hunny spit the coffee back into the cup promptly and tears welled in his eyes.

"It's so...burny!" He began to sniffle until he saw the bite of tart in front of his face, taking it from Mori and chomping happily.

When Mori turned to look for the girl on the couch, she was gone. He looked to where Kyoya was sitting, and he was gone as well.

Hm.

The next day he and Mitsukuni arrived on time, only to find that on one of the tables in the club room, seven boxes were lined up evenly across the table.

After Tamaki's explanation of the seven boxes (which happened to be boxes of instant commoner noodles), Fujioka showed everyone how to make them.

Mori was working with a box of what was supposedly yakisoba noodles, though after opening it he had no intention of eating it. After listening to Fujioka's instructions, he poured the water out into a sink. He opened the lid to see what exactly he had made, only to find that the contents of the "seasoning packet" that he had emptied onto the noodles were now on the lid.

Bah. I did it wrong.

"The seasoning's on the lid..." he showed the coated lid to Fujioka, who looked directly at him for the first time since entering the music room for the first time. He looked pleasantly surprised.

"That's okay. Sometimes that happens. I normally just put the seasonings under the noodles to start with."

Oh. That would've been smart.

He looked over at Mitsukuni, who was happily slurping up a cup of noodles.

"Look, Takashi! I did it!" Pieces of noodle flew from Hunny's mouth as he spoke. In a gentle motion, he closed his cousin's mouth with his hand.

"Don't talk and eat."

While he was talking to Mitsukuni, the twins and Tamaki had been fussing between themselves over Fujioka.

"I had contacts, but I lost them during the admission ceremony..." Mori watched as Tamaki took off Fujioka's glasses, the Frenchman's expression going blank.

"Hikaru! Kaoru!" Tamaki snapped his fingers, and the normally disobedient twins were at attention. They seemed to understand what Tamaki was asking.

"Kyoya! Ring up the school tailor! Mori, fetch your spare disposable contacts!"

With all due speed, Mori found his bag and retrieved an extra pair of his contacts. He actually felt a bit sorry for Fujioka, as Tamaki didn't seem to understand that prescriptions for contacts weren't universal...

But, despite his pity, things seemed to work out. Fujioka didn't complain when he put the contacts on, and they did him a huge favor. He wasn't bad-looking once he was all cleaned up, but he was a little on the androgynous side. His small stature wasn't helping him either.

Before they knew it, Fujioka was sitting at a table with three guests who had agreed to see him instead of their regular consignments. From a distance, all the members of the Host Club looked on with interest; it was time for the new kid to sink or swim.

Mori and Hunny wanted him to swim.

And there you have it. Ideally I'll be echoing a chapter in the manga with a chapter in this, but it won't always be the case.