There are those who are born special, and those who the previous group make special. All of the members of the Ouran High School Host Club would fall under the first category, and when Haruhi Fujioka shattered that vase, she became part of the second category.
Kyoya Ootori believed firmly that the true meaning of power was remaining in the first category, (being born to one of the richest families in Japan pretty much took care of that), and controlling those who were accepted into the second. The Host Club was a means to that end, for through it they gave the ladies they entertained a glimpse of what being made special could feel like, though the only one they'd fully adopted was a commoner girl who looked like a boy.
Until now.
Chapter 1
Tamaki was dying. He could feel the world growing cold before his eyes, could see his beautiful skin withering as he stared in absolute horror at the Ouran Times. "No," he whispered, and the girls behind him swooned at the look of princely woe on his face, "It cannot be."
"What cannot be, Tamaki?" Kyoya was getting impatient. The blonde "king" of the Host Club had been staring at Ouran's student-run paper and moaning for the last five minutes, and it was getting on his nerves.
"Yeah, and since when do you read the paper anyway?" the twins sidled up behind Tamaki, and Kyoya watched, wondering if they would be able to snap Tamaki out of the state he was in. Hikaru and Kaoru had a particular talent for doing that.
Sure enough, Tamaki's back straightened as he flung out a hand dramatically. "My dearest daughter proclaimed that all the educated read the paper," he declared, eliciting another squeal from his customers. (Really, Kyoya thought, it was just too easy.)
"That doesn't answer—" Kaoru started
"—our question," Hikaru finished.
They smirked. "What are you doing reading the paper?"
"Stop it, guys," Haruhi said wearily. The brown-eyed girl stood up, hefting a thick math book. "I'm trying to study. Why does it matter why Senpei's reading the paper anyway? Isn't it more important to see what got him so worked up?"
Kyoya blinked. As always, the sensible commoner states the obvious. He picked up the paper, which had skidded near him after Tamaki's dramatics. Flipping it open to the page Tamaki had dog-eared, he glanced at the heading. "The most popular people on campus," he read aloud.
And number one was—he frowned. "Kaiya Sakura?"
"What?"
"What?"
"Oh, Kichi-chan! Takashi, you remember her, right?"
"Yeah."
Tamaki whimpered, looking at Kyoya with big, teary eyes. "How can it not be me?" he asked piteously, "After all I have done, dedicating my life to bringing joy and happiness to these lovely ladies—"
"Not all of the students in Ouran are ladies," Haruhi pointed out, "According to the paper, the polls were open to both girls and boys." She'd abandoned her studying to sit next to them, and was scanning her own copy of the Ouran Times thoughtfully.
Hikaru and Kaoru exchanged looks. "Do you recognize her name, Haruhi?"
"I think so—" Haruhi's forehead wrinkled as she thought. Turning to Honey, she asked, "Didn't you say you knew her?" The small third-year boy was currently shoveling down a piece of cake bigger than his head, but he nodded vigorously anyway.
"Shmm ah mmphhoo!"
"She's a middle-schooler," Kyoya translated, earning several strange looks from the other hosts. He shrugged, "Just because I don't choose to reveal all my talents…"
"Kaiya skipped a couple grades," Kaoru explained, scratching his head, "She's in our class, but most people call her Kichi. You remember, the one who tied with you during finals week for first?"
"Her family owns a lucrative chain of hotels," Kyoya cleared his throat. "Very lucrative." Haruhi glanced at him and blanched, sidling away slightly.
"The Sakuras?" the twins asked simultaneously, "Kichi's their daughter? We always thought her parents were the tea-set makers!"
"That's Keiko Sakura," Kyoya said dryly, "He's male." His glasses glinted as he pushed them up his nose, "However, I have to agree with Tamaki—I expected one of us to top the list, though I'd be lying if I said I expected it to be Tamaki."
"Yeah, I can't believe we're a lousy third," Hikaru grumbled, "Who knew you were so popular with the student body, Kyoya?"
"What are you complaining about, you hoodlum?" Tamaki cried, "I'm seventh! Seventh!"
The Hitachiin smirked, "Yeah, tough luck, Boss. Everyone except Haruhi beat you out." They turned to look at the boy/girl, who was busily serving tea, "Speaking of which, Haruhi, how'd you get all the way down to fifteen?"
The girl shrugged, "With the Host Club and studying, I don't get out much," she said, "It doesn't really matter." The girls around her swooned at the honesty in her face, and Haruhi smiled at them, "I appreciate you ladies voting for me though, it's a real honor."
Across the room, a group of girls were trying to comfort a pouting Tamaki. "Don't worry, Tamaki-senpei," one of them said, "We still love you, it's just that Kichi-chan's so—" she broke off, melting back into the group. "So cool!" another voice supplied, helpfully.
"And cute!"
"And smart!"
"And nice!"
Tamaki felt each compliment stab into his heart like an arrow as the girls went from praising him to praising this—usurper. A thought clicked into his mind, "I have a question for you ladies," he declared, rising from the ground, "If she is as an accomplished lady as you all say she is, why has she not visited the host club?"
"I've asked Kichi to come," a plump girl whose father was ran Japan's biggest fast-food chain supplied, "She always says no."
"Then we must convince her otherwise," Tamaki said, "I must meet this, 'Kichi!'" He turned to Kyoya, "Kyoya—"
"Fine," Kyoya said, cutting the boy off mid-sentence, "I've been wanting to meet her myself. There aren't many girls who haven't stepped foot in the Host Club at one time or another, even if it's just out of curiosity." He turned to their guests and gave an apologetic smile, "So sorry, ladies, but we will be closing early today. Does anyone know where Ms. Sakura is during club hours?"
"I do!" Honey raised his hand high, "Kichi-chan's in the dojo!" At the others' (minus Mori), surprised looks, he continued, "Kichi-chan's adopted, and she told me that her parents got her to help take care of her brothers and sisters. I know she's supposed to be serving her big brother Kaisei today."
Serving, Kyoya thought, Interesting way of putting it. Adopted or not she is a Sakura, and surely they would not treat one of their own as a servant…
Then again, the rich were known to have all sorts of strange habits, and the Sakuras in particular had always been an eccentric bunch.
OHSHCOHSHC
Despite having attended the school for a good five months already, Haruhi had never seen the inside of their dojo. She'd had no reason to—athletics weren't exactly her thing and though the thought of watching Honey and Mori train had piqued her curiosity at first, it had quickly faded after the water-park incident.
She was surprised by how fresh the place seemed. The air was clean and free from the smell of sweat and other body odors, and the ground was as smooth and white as marble. Haruhi bent down to inspect it, and groaned inwardly. Only Ouran could afford solid marble floors and a lobby for their school dojo.
She caught Honey grinning at her and he beamed even brighter, "Do you like it, Haru-chan? It's so nice, right?"
She nodded, and followed the others as they made their way into the dojo. The immediate aroma of hot, sticky bodies hit her like a fist in the stomach, and Haruhi had to suppress a sigh of relief. So they were human after all. Boys wrestled, fought hand-to-hand, and received training from men with muscles thicker than her thighs.
Honey and Mori led them across the floor, heading for the area where older boys practiced kendo. Haruhi had to admit, they were impressive, spinning and slashing each other faster than her eyes could follow. "That one's Kaisei," Honey said.
Haruhi's eyes followed his finger as he pointed to one of the sparring boys. He was obviously winning the match, his opponent barely managing to block his thrusts. Finally, there was an opening and the Kaisei twisted the other boy's katana out of his hands before leveling his own blade at the others' throat.
Haruhi blinked. Wait, katana—
"Only the most experienced fighters are allowed to use real weapons," Kyoya said blandly, and Haruhi jumped, wondering yet again if the Shadow King could read minds. It wouldn't surprise her. "All of us," the older boy added, "Are qualified to use real weapons. Excluding you of course."
This surprised her. She'd never really thought of the Host Club—besides Mori and Honey—using weapons. Then again, they were required to take P.E. classes, and she supposed it helped explain the lean muscles that drew in their customers.
Kaisei pulled off his helmet, revealing sweat-slicked black hair and intense blue eyes. He held out his arms, and Haruhi wondered if the dojo had attendees to help the boys take off their padding—but no, the other boy was pulling off his own gear.
"Ah, there she is," Kyoya said, and Haruhi instinctively glanced to her right, just as Kaiya shot by her and skidded to a halt in front of her older brother.
I know, no character description yet—I wanted to get some feedback first. Like it, hate it? Have some ideas you'd like to share? From what I've described so far, how do you guys envision Kichi? Review and let me know!
