I prefer Spearmint.

AU: because I really wanted to explore this idea. And also try out something new. Like a Studio Ghibli film, you know.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club :D

"Excuse me, can I have a cup of apple juice?" I asked, looking up at the smiling flight attendant.

I swear, flight attendants must have it hard- having to deal with balancing issues (not that they had problems with it, I guess) and awkward friendly-show-all-your-teeth smiles. And if anyone were to be mean to them, they wouldn't be able to do anything, would they? They'd just have to bear it through- I mean, we're all stuck in this chunk of metal, floating in the air for a few hours, right? It's pretty much a big deal- especially if they've had a bad day- they can't just open up a parachute and jump off the plane's emergency exit, can they?

Speaking of which, a certain person with long (and white!) hair is sobbing dramatically onto me. I would guess that she has plans for that parachute, but then again you can never assume too much of strangers. I hate randomly allocated seats by the different counters; now I have to deal with a melodramatic stranger.

"Umh, excuse me," I said, trying to discreetly nudge her head away.

Glancing up at the time, I sighed. Three more hours to go. It's a good thing that Singapore's quite near to Japan, no? I'm kind of excited for this exchange programme, of course. My buddy came over five months ago, and now it's time for me to invade her house for three weeks. She's totally cool, and adorable. A little melodramatic, but still.

"You don't understand," the stranger cried, tugging on my sleeve. "My babies are acting all dumb and stupid and- and- they can't see that they love each other so much! Oh my feels-"

"You're leaning on me. Oh- is that Merlin? I didn't know that they offered this show," I remarked, peeking at her screen.

"Yes- yes- yes, oh my god those idiots still don't know-" she wailed, albeit softer, as the flight attendant brought me my cup of apple juice.

I accepted the cup, and took a sip, without spilling the divine juice from the heavenly apple juice factories of chemicals and plastic packaging. The stranger continued to sob in agony, contorting her body. I sighed. Three hours is a long time! I spared the stranger a glance, and decided that if I had to force the parachute onto someone, it would be her. Geez. Melting all over someone is an inconvenience, even if your heart was cracking at the second-hand embarrassment from your favourite show.

"Oh. Wait. I remember the ending. The blonde guy dies," I muttered- a wrong move, apparently.

Her glare made me reconsider forcing the parachute on her; I think I might need it more, now.

"Look, you didn't have to remind me of that!"

Wow, so now she's blaming me? I mean, yeah, that was low, but hey! I need my beauty sleep too!

"And you didn't have to cry all over me," I replied, shrugging my stiff shoulder. "Gee, you're quite devoted to these fictional characters, aren't you?"

"What do you know about fictional characters! They're just as human as we are! They're just as real! You don't understand it, do you! You're all high and mighty and oh-so practical that you're void of all emotions and imagination! Those people are characters who you have to fill up-" she started to rant, which was honestly the last thing I wanted to happen.

"I'm just not as invested as you are, okay? I just don't see the value in-"

"They teach us a lot of things. A lot of important lessons," she paused dramatically, and then completely altered the course of her rage orbit. "So, if you had to go into a fictional world, which would you prefer?"

I stayed silent at this, planning to ignore her. Yeah, but- well, why not just fib her with something and get these three hours over in peace and beauty sleep? I really want that lemon cake they were serving just now.

…

Hm.

The Hunger Games was definitely out.

Harry Potter… might be a choice, but it depends on the year- and people die all the time.

Sailor Moon? I'm not interested in reviving myself from the end of the world. Not when I have to do it, what, (how many seasons are there-) five times?

umh, what else is there…

Ah!

Ouran High School Host Club! It's super duper rich and fun and happy, isn't it? I mean, they even had an episode specially dedicated to cavities.

Right.

It'll be nice, then?

Plus, there'll be lots of lemon cake.

Not that I'm invested in lemon cake, of course.

I turned back to the stranger, who was regarding me curiously.

"Eh, Ouran High School Host Club, I guess?" I shrugged.

She smiled briefly- and it looked like the smile of a very-pissed-off flight attendant who was trying not to force a parachute on me, all the while shoving me into the Red Sea. I didn't like that smile.

But for the rest of the journey, she left me alone, and so- I drifted off into a very comfortable slumber.

Being hurried off the plane, while still being in a sleepy mode, was a torture. I had no idea where I was, or where my friends were- I swear, Nicole's probably pissed at me for eliminating the airplane's supply of apple juice. Or something. Not that she's familiar with my modus operandi.

I found myself standing by the conveyor belt, waiting for that familiar teal-like luggage. Geez. It's eight in the morning, and I'm just really tired. Blame me for attempting to drain the airplane's supply of apple juice, will you? I'm only fourteen, yo. Can't blame my saintly teenage hormones. Whatever. I think I need my lip balm. It should be four degrees out there right now. Bah.

Digging into my bag, I found something else- it was a folder. Taking it out, I scanned through its dull-looking exterior.

"'Moe Moe Top Secret Mission?' That's… lame."

Flipping through the contents made me realise that it was a very detailed account of a person's profile. To be more specific, it was my file. Mine. Right. How many 'Rachel Cho's have you heard of? Probably a lot. I think there was a whole list when I searched myself on facebook.

But anyway, here's the catch.

I had no file of this sort to begin with.

And guess what?

I was to be called 'Mao Fuwa', a student returning to my homeland after my parents met with an accident in Singapore. And I was to be studying in Ouran Academy. And I was supposed to be sixteen.

You have got to be kidding me.

I didn't realise that I signed some form of contract to be in some sort of Matrix-Yakuza business.

What the hell?

Wait.

Ouran Academy…

"I did say that I would prefer 'Ouran High School Host Club', right?" I murmured, hastily grabbing my luggage off the conveyor belt. "I'll just need to find Nicole and we'll write a fanfic or something-"

I'm all alone in this sea of tourists. Great. Now, I just need to get to the information counter and act like a pitiful lost brat while our group's teacher comes rushing for me, and Nicole comes- bulldozer and all (with a butterfly net to complete the image).

"Fuwa Mao-san, am I right?" a voice called my alias' name out.

I turned- only to see a vaguely familiar face.

The glint in his glasses made me shiver, as he smiled and said, "I'm Ootori Kyoya, and I will be escorting you to Ouran Academy."

What.

The.

Hell.

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