A boy sat alone in the corner of the classroom, gazing peacefully out the nearby window, as boys tend to do when deep in thought. Outside, a crisp cool breeze whispered hints of the coming fall. The leaves in the neatly trimmed trees had already begun to change their hues. The scene below was pleasant enough: students clad in blue and yellow walked along the intricate brick pathways, laughing and enjoying their lunch hour. In the backdrop sprawled the grounds of the prestigious Ouran Academy.

The boy seemed to look right through the serenity of the scene before him. His mind certainly was not on the buzz of excitement surrounding the start of the school year. Rather, he dreaded the start of the year, in particular the start of his first year of high school. New school years always brought new students, and new students liked to stare and whisper loudly.

What's wrong with him?

Oh, you mean you don't know?

I feel so bad for him.

He's never going to inherit his father's company if he doesn't get better.

He felt his cheeks and ears burning as the offhanded remarks echoed inside his head. People could be so cruel. They had to know he could hear their callousness. He knew they did not mean offense, but the lack of regard his classmates held for his position hurt greatly.

Almost unconsciously, he drew up his trouser leg to stare at the cause of his anguish. His left leg was striped with a dozen surgical scars, the muscle atrophied so greatly that he could almost wrap one hand around his calf. There were still sutures from his latest surgery, the black of the thread standing out starkly against his pale skin, though the skin had pulled together and a vivid pink scar was nearly formed. This was what had won him the attention of the other students, inspiring pity.

The pity was what he hated the most. He could put up with the stares and the discussion of his future, and even the disgust at the appearance, but he could not stand the pity. The sympathy he saw in some classmates' eyes was enough to make him want to scream.

In a flash of emotion, he lashed out his strong leg at the crutches that were neatly leaned against the wall, sending them flying across the room. A fist struck the wall as he breathed deeply, attempting to resettle his nerves before the other students returned.

"Feeling alright, Kushida?"

The boy at the window whipped his head around to the door, where a tall bespectacled student was standing, apparently unperturbed by the small outburst.

"O-ootori! Forgive me, I did not realize you were there," the smaller youth stammered.

Kyoya Ootori waved a hand dismissively, striding over to take his seat. "Think nothing of it. I assume it has something to do with your recent visit to the hospital?" He readjusted his glasses, expression neutral and seemingly disinterested in the answer to his question. He had his little black notebook out on his desk and seemed to be reading through it.

"How did you know about that?"

Ootori sighed, snapping his notebook shut and resting his head on the back of his hand, elbow propped up on the desk. "It's not that hard to determine, being as that seems to be where you go whenever you miss school. Even if you hadn't gone to one of my family's hospitals, it would have been an easy guess. Not that I know what transpired this time. That would be a breach of…privacy." The other boy did not enjoy the inflection that accompanied the last word.

Ryoji Kushida dropped his gaze from Kyoya's unwavering eyes. He did not respond to the unasked question, preferring to leave it hanging uncomfortably in the air between them. Rather, he stood and hobbled his way to the fallen crutches, favoring his left leg and bracing himself on the desks. Upon retrieving them, he left the room, pausing just for a moment at the door to say one final statement to Ootori.

"I will not be returning to Ouran again for this school year."

A/N

Disclaimer: OHSHC belongs to Bisco Hatori, not me.

It's been a while since I have written anything, so bear with me.

Reviews are greatly appreciated, be it for plot, grammar, style, or characters. Thanks!

-Bichir