06:43, G, 100 words
It was 2ft by 3ft, with a solid wooden door that let no light through. He'd cleared the heavy coats out himself - no need to call the servants for something as personal as this. Kneeling at the threshold of the open door, back ramrod straight and eyes closed, he filtered out the sounds of his cousins playing. He was ten years old. Eyes opened, he shuffled on his knees into the cramped space, leaned up and pulled the door shut behind him.
Mitsukuni sat for 6 hours and 43 minutes in the cupboard, and didn't once make a sound.
Switch, G, 100 words
René stumbles through Tokyo International utterly bewildered. The airport is heaving with people, parents yelling at children, businessmen yammering into their cellphones, hundreds of voices blurting out syllables in a stormy ocean of noise. Whirling in confusion, he collapses against a marble pillar and tries to make sense of this strange new place where the signs are no longer familiar and nobody speaks French.
By the time the Suoh servants arrive, René has calmed considerably. They call him 'young master' in smooth Japanese, and when he looks up at them, a smile on his face, he says, "Call me Tamaki".
Declaration of Intention, G, 100 words
Another love letter. "Dear [twin. I really admire you. Can we meet? Love from [inane girl". They tossed scornful looks at each other, penned the reply together: "Sure. At the arches along the east path?" So repetitive, but there was still satisfaction in proving that it was just them - HikaruKaoru - no room in the middle for people to squeeze in.
Kaoru hides in the bushes, Hikaru on stage, but the third wheel in this week's production is entirely unexpected. Tall, blond, striking ... male. Tamaki shrugs, strolls away, tosses over his shoulder, "I just wanted to see."
Blooming, G, 100 words
He's emptying the wardrobe when he finds it. White satin unmarked by the passage of a few short years. It's beautiful in the way vases are when empty of flowers, just a shell of potential. So wrong ...
Between one blink and the next, Ryoji is standing in front of a full-length mirror. The dress doesn't look right - he's a pale imitation - but for a second he can feel ... he can see ...
She's not in the mirror when he opens his eyes again. He runs his fingers over the shiny material and doesn't take off the dress until morning.
Reversal, G, 100 words
It's business as usual at the Host Club, even though Haruhi's at home with the flu and Honey is away on a training exercise in Korea. With two members down, Kyouya's pushing the remaining Hosts to the absolute limit. No customer will leave unsatisfied.
In the end, it only takes five calls from Honey to convince Mori. The fangirls go wild - with glee or laughter - when he steps into the sunlight wearing a sheer blue dress, studded with starry gems. Tamaki's entrance on a white steed is to great applause, but Mori's glare at Kyouya could cut glass.
In the Dreaming, G, 100 words
Nekozawa can't watch them - they're outside, under the blazing sun, unprotected from its merciless heat - but he can listen, and imagine.
In his mind's eye, the jangle of cowbells matches the way Haruhi perches on a three-legged stool, deftly squirting milk from the udders in his hands into the bucket. He turns slightly, laughs at someone just out of shot. Nekozawa pretends its him for a moment, pretends he has a present for Haruhi. A kitten, maybe, pristine white, a pink ribbon tied to its collar.
Pointless. He shudders in imaginary sunlight, and goes back to his altar.