Ouran High School Host Club © Bisco Hatori
Eden
I.
"What have you done to your hair?"
Her grandmother's voice was quiet and monotonous in that way it only ever got when she was so befuddled, she could do nothing more but become angry. Yoon Ah knew that to make a sardonic comment now would be like signing her own death warrant.
So instead, she placed her book down on her silk coverlet, glancing up at her grandmother through long, black eyelashes, and remained silent for a few seconds. Then, she said dismissively, "I got it cut and dyed when I went to the salon today."
It was silent once more, before her grandmother interrupted it with a deep, dissatisfied sigh. "That I can see," she acknowledged, then frowned. "Yet I am sure that we agreed you could dye your hair a lighter brown than you usually get it done. That would have been acceptable, Yoon Ah."
"I decided that I didn't really wish to dye my hair brown again," Yoon Ah replied, shrugging. She folded her legs up underneath her body, and smiled coyly. "Is this not alright, Obaa-san?"
Her grandmother pinched her lips sourly. "No," she answered immediately. "Blonde is not alright."
"It's not too bright, though," Yoon Ah explained calmly, twirling some of her waves through her thin fingers. "Almost akin to a rose-gold color. Not garish at all. It's quite nice, in my opinion. Hal-abeoji thought so, as well."
Oshiro Noriko stilled at the casual mention of Yoon Ah's maternal grandfather, then sighed once more. "You start at Ouran Academy tomorrow, Yoon Ah. You cannot go to the Academy with that hair."
"Cannot?" Yoon Ah repeated. She couldn't help the triumphant smirk that twisted her lips as she slowly began to unfold her legs, and continued, "Or do you perhaps mean should not?"
Her grandmother shook her head from side-to-side, clearly unimpressed. She rubbed her pale, wrinkled fingers across the bridge of her nose in obvious exasperation, but nevertheless conceded the point by saying, "If you truly do not care what the others shall think of you, then do it. If you really want to, do it. I will not fight you over this tonight, Yoon Ah."
Once her grandmother had dismissed herself from the room, Yoon Ah grinned and flopped back onto her stomach joyfully. She picked up her copy of Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire and marvelled at the length of her eyelashes now that she'd gotten those extensions she'd been wanting for so long.
::
The uniform was not the prettiest shade of yellow Yoon Ah had ever come across, but the design of the dress itself diminished the unfortunate effect the color had on it. It could have been worse, she admitted. The shoes were quite nice as well - a beautiful, shiny, ruby-red color with a modest heel. Not her usual type, but classy and clean-cut.
Seeing her own reflection in the hallway mirror helped Yoon Ah's opinion concerning the uniform tremendously, too. It didn't look half bad on her, if she was being perfectly blunt. The socks were a bit of a pain to keep above her knees, but she figured if she bought some new garters after school it wouldn't be as annoying to deal with for the rest of the semester.
Taking some bobby pins and pinning her fringe behind her ear, Yoon Ah found herself wondering just what Ouran Academy would entail. Would it include just as many mind games? Would every word still have to be meticulously calculated in the shortest amount of time possible? Would every person, as always, wear a mask and call it their face?
Would it be just like Pandem Academy?
Yoon Ah slipped a silky red headband over her hair and allowed a bittersweet smile to overtake her lips. She wouldn't be surprised at all if Ouran was exactly like Pandem had been.
"I'm leaving, Hal-abeoji," Yoon Ah said, glancing at her grandfather through the mirror. He continued staring into the raging inferno inside their fireplace, not responding at all.
One, two, three, four, five, six… And then he turned and grinned at her, a wordless hum escaping his mouth.
Yoon Ah grinned back, and left for the limousine waiting for her outside of the mansion.
::
Suoh Yuzuru-sama's voice was loud and clear as he proclaimed to the student body gathered in the admittedly large gymnasium: "At Ouran Academy, lineage comes first; wealth, a close second."
She was a little disappointed in herself at the tightening of her chest once the words had left the Chairman's mouth; for having any miniscule amount of hope that something else would come out of it.
Why had she expected it to be any different?
Nevermind that. Yoon Ah took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders and observing the students and teachers in the room with her. It was best to ready herself for anything and everything Ouran could throw at her, whether it be her peers or her betters that were doing the throwing. Everyone was a potential threat in a place like the Academy.
Everyone.
::
Well, she mused, sipping on her cup of gyokuro, I'm glad I prepared myself earlier.
Glancing up at Ayanokoji Seika, Yoon Ah wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin carefully. "You say my classmate runs a… club?"
"A Host Club, yes," Seika answered. "Led by both of your classmates, actually, Oshiro-no-kimi. Suoh Tamaki-sama and Ootori Kyoya-sama."
The two younger girls who'd joined her for this lunch date at the request of their generously self-appointed guide - Kurakano Momoka and Sakurazuka Kimiko - tilted their heads in askance. "Who are they?" Kimiko asked. Momoka didn't look nearly as confused as to who the boys were, but she did look curious as to what Seika's opinion of them was.
Yoon Ah, likewise, flicked her gaze from the two girls to her elder companion, staring up at the redhead through thick lashes. Seika caught her eye and smiled in a way that perhaps was meant to look dainty. To Yoon Ah, she just looked as slimy as a snake, and as dumb as a dog.
Ayanokoji Seika was a subpar actress - yet she continued to act without a thought to that little issue. She didn't notice much outside of what had to do with herself and her own opinions; a terrible blend of narcissism and a superiority complex. Not new to Yoon Ah, but certainly still troublesome to deal with.
"Kyoya-sama is the third son of Ootori Yoshio, of course," Seika answered. "The Ootori run Ootori Medical and the small branch of the police force that is hired solely by their family. Old money, you see. Very wealthy, very powerful, and very intelligent. Tamaki-sama, on the other hand, is the only son of Ouran's Chairman of the Board, Suoh Yuzuru." At this point, the third year glanced around the table to gauge everyone's level of interest.
Kimiko looked to be at the edge of her seat, whilst Momoka looked only politely interested. Yoon Ah stared blankly at her companion, neither confirming or denying any possible intrigue regarding the topic. Seika either didn't pay attention to that or simply didn't care, for she smirked behind her cup of tea once more and then continued to speak.
"He's quite handsome, you know, if not ever so silly. Perhaps that lack of intelligence comes from his mother's side of the family," the older girl suggested. She raised a pale hand up to her lips to cover her giggle, as though she'd just been particularly subtle and coy and was proud of herself for it.
Yoon Ah resisted the urge to scoff. That had to have been the saddest segue she'd ever had the displeasure of being privy to. Nevertheless, she raised her eyebrows in order to feign attentiveness when Seika looked up again, and from the corner of her eye, Yoon Ah could see Momoka's mouth curl up into a peculiar smile.
Kimiko, however, fell straight into Seika's trap, much as a child of inferior intelligence would. "What do you mean, Ayanokoji-senpai?" she asked in a whisper, eyes wide.
Seika finished off her sencha with one last sip, then dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her pristine, white napkin. "Well," she murmured quietly, gazing down at the table, "his mother was just a… funny little French blip on the Chairman's radar."
Kimiko gasped, flinging her hands up to cover her mouth. "A mistress?" she muttered, disbelief coating every inch of the word. Seika nodded, yet again allowing her pride in herself to shine through every inch of her skin. "So Suoh-senpai is… a child out of wedlock?"
Yoon Ah made direct eye contact with the older girl, and spoke exactly the words she knew were on Seika's mind. "A bastard, is indeed what she's trying to say, Kimiko-san." Seika flinched, but then carefully constructed her face into that of oddly amused offense.
"My, you've got quite the blunt mouth on you, Oshiro-san," Seika reprimanded. Unsubtle, as was her wont.
Yoon Ah smiled. "My apologies then. But if you'll excuse me, Kurakano-san, Sakurazuka-san, Ayanokoji-senpai, I really must take my leave." She flipped her white cuff up and took a cursory glance at her watch, noting that she had about fifteen minutes before her next class began. "Perhaps I shall meet up with you all later."
"Of course, Oshiro-san. And there's no harm done." Seika's eyes were as sharp as glass and her smile as predatory as ever, yet this time, her contemptuous attitude did not go unnoticed by anyone else in their group. Momoka observed both of her seniors silently while Kimiko shifted in her seat awkwardly, twisting her fingers together beneath the table in anxiety.
Yoon Ah simply bowed her head, hiding her smirk, and then left the cafeteria without a backwards glance.
Sometimes she wished she could just take a break from all of this.
::
Yoon Ah stepped out of the bathroom stall quietly, taking a cursory glance to her left and right. The sinks on this side of the room were bereft of any washers aside from her. Yet on the opposite side of the bathroom - which was split in two by the rows of stalls behind the seventeen year old girl - she could hear the indistinct chatter of some other girls.
Yoon Ah flipped the tap on, dipping her hands into the cold water and tilting her head in order to listen in on the conversation on the other side of the room. As she was reaching one hand out to soap up her hands with the vanilla scented wash, rather than the lavender or tangerine ones, she heard her voice speak up loudly above the rest.
Seika giggled teasingly. "Her father is the head of Oshiro Architecture, you know."
"Oh," another girl cooed. "Oshiro, as in-"
"Yes, the Oshiro," Seika confirmed. "Old money," she continued dismissively. "Rich, powerful, somewhat intelligent - even if the Oshiro tend to be more lax about familial relations and societal policies than most old families. But, well," Seika huffed out a disbelieving laugh. Yoon Ah turned the tap off, flicking her hands into the sink a few times before reaching out for one of the lilac towels folded neatly onto the white marble countertop. "You know who her mother is, don't you?"
Yoon Ah glanced up into the mirror, pursing her lips. Involuntarily, she could feel her fists beginning to clench and her nails digging into the soft fabric of the towel. Of course Seika would bring up her mother - girls like her always did.
"I've heard rumors," a new girl piped up hesitantly. "Are you saying they're…?"
"True?" Seika interrupted impatiently. "Of course they are. Her mother is just some upstart Korean-American interior designer. Nothing special. Not even really new money, either, just some upper-middle class commoner who snagged up a stupid, rich man with her greedy little claws. Isn't that just hysterical?" The redheaded girl let out another tinkering laugh, except this time, it sounded victorious to Yoon Ah's rapidly reddening ears.
She was not embarrassed, though. She was furious.
"Now that I'm thinking about it… perhaps that's where her uncouth attitude and blatant dismissal of her own pride comes from. Have you seen her hair?"
Yoon Ah painstakingly released her white-knuckled grip on the purple towel, straightening out the dents her nails had made in it with shaking fingertips. Then she refolded it, placed it in the wooden laundry bin where all used towels went, and gazed at herself in the mirror one last time.
The sound of Seika's laughter slipped out of her mind like the sound of the Cheonjiyeon Falls in the summer. Yoon Ah's face was deathly pale and her ears hellishly warm, but her eyes were hard and her thin lips were pulled taut with anger. If Ayanokoji Seika really wished to speak of things she had no business speaking of, then Yoon Ah had no qualms about jumping right back into the thick of things.
Not anymore.
::
She thrust the door to the Fourth Library open carelessly, making to step over the threshold into the hallway, but was inevitably distracted by the sounds of suffering coming from the direction of the lavender-tiled floor. Yoon Ah tilted her head down curiously, lifting an eyebrow at the sight of a brunette boy in shabby-looking, oversized clothing. His hand was lifted, pressing his taupe sweater sleeve against his nose, and his bag was flung to the floor beside him.
Yoon Ah appropriately dealt the blame for his pain on herself and knelt down beside the boy, placing a hand on his forearm cautiously. "I'm sorry," she offered quietly. "I'm afraid I was a bit foolish in my haste to leave the library. Here, let me get your bag for you." She grabbed the strap to his bag, looked at the boy again, and then stood up slowly.
She coughed delicately, holding her hand out to him once more. "Is your nose bleeding?" she asked. The boy finally looked up, doe-like brown eyes staring up at her through old-fashioned glasses. Yoon Ah's eyebrows raised imperceptibly.
He removed his sleeve from his nose, flickering his gaze across it quickly, then said, "No, I'm fine." His hand, when he'd finally grasped her own in order to help himself up off the ground, was squared and slightly calloused, but still small, pale, and thin-fingered. His nails scraped across the back of her hand lightly. "Thanks." He took his proffered bag from her hands and then turned-tail and all but ran back down the hallway, away from Yoon Ah.
She rubbed her hands together slowly, staring out the window across the hall in thought. A few seconds later, she mentally berated herself for losing track of time in her assessment of the other student and pushed him from her mind. It's not like he really mattered all that much anyway. What were the chances she'd ever see him again, in the long run?
She flicked her cuff up and checked her watch. It was finally time to go home.
::
"Good evening, Obaa-san," Yoon Ah greeted cheerfully, swinging her shopping bags from side-to-side as she walked into the house, toeing off her shoes. "How was your day?"
Her grandmother hummed, looking up at her through her rounded spectacles. "Fine, Yoon Ah. How was Ouran Academy?"
Yoon Ah allowed a small smile to form on her face. "Well, it went as well as could be expected," she began, ignoring the soft scoff that escaped her elder's lips. "But of course, there were some problems I'll need to address before the end of next week."
Noriko raised her eyebrows, setting her book down on the coffee table at her elbow and turning to face Yoon Ah fully. "And how do you plan to address these problems?"
"About that…" Yoon Ah trailed off, twirling her hair between her fingers. "May I borrow your office for a bit?"
"Why my office?" her grandmother asked, suspicious. Her eyes were squinted in that way that suggested if Yoon Ah didn't have a good enough reason, or an interesting enough evasion, she wouldn't get her way no matter how much she begged or needled her grandmother later on.
"Your computer is much faster than the one chichi-ue has. And you keep your files better organized," she explained, waving her hand in the air indifferently. Placing her bags on the table in the hallway and fixing her hair in the mirror, she glanced at her grandmother from the corner of her eye.
She was watching her contemplatively, lips pursed. "You need to see my files on some of your classmates," she inferred easily.
"Not quite," Yoon Ah denied. "One of my seniors."
"Who?"
"It doesn't matter," she responded, smirking derisively at her own reflection. "She'll be subdued by the end of next week. If I can borrow your office for the night, of course," she tacked on at the end, turning around to stare, wide-eyed, at Noriko. "Please, Obaa-san?"
The elder woman huffed and picked up her book once more. "Just make sure to leave it as clean as it was before you got in. If there's a single sheet of paper out of place, Yoon Ah…"
"I know," she interrupted, grinning. "Thank you, Obaa-san." She grabbed her bags off the table and left, a skip in her step.
As she passed by the dining room, she saw her grandfather and father sitting at the table, each nursing a cup of tea and skimming magazines and newspapers that caught their fancy. "Hello Papa, Hal-abeoji."
"Yoon Ah," her father responded, placing his paper down and smiling. "How was your first day of school?"
"It went as well as could be expected," she repeated from her earlier conversation. "Hal-abeoji?" She turned to her grandfather hesitantly, biting her lip. "Can I borrow your camera?"
Her grandfather stilled suddenly, loosening his grip enough on his magazine that it drooped onto the table sadly. He stared, unblinking, at the dark, shiny wood in front of him, and did not respond.
One, two, three, four, five, six… Yoon Ah counted, crossing her fingers mentally. Then, he lifted his head and grinned at her, nodding emphatically. Yoon Ah grinned back, skipping out of the room, planning now to stop in her grandfather's room before heading to her grandmother's office.
Yes, her mind hissed triumphantly.
Ayanokoji Seika would have no idea what hit her.
::
Although Yoon Ah hadn't expected much from the files she'd managed to unearth from her grandmother's office, she had still been a bit let down at the startling lack of possible blackmail she could use and abuse. But that was fine, since that's what she'd borrowed the camera for.
She'd find her own blackmail to use and abuse the redheaded girl with. It'd take a lot of time, and a lot of effort, but she'd do it by the end of next week.
Yet it was by pure, dumb luck she'd managed to stumble upon Seika taping a sewing needle to the inside of a younger student's jacket collar on her way to lunch on her fifth day of school. Although she was a little befuddled, she was also more than a little smug, and so she quietly took out her grandfather's camera and snapped a few pictures of the scene.
She lowered the camera slowly and watched as Seika clenched the discarded - and now booby-trapped - jacket tightly in her fists. Yes. This would be perfect. Of course, she felt a little bad for whichever young first year boy had managed to anger Seika that terribly. He'd be in for a horrible week.
But Yoon Ah would be there to document it all. He'd be fine.
A/N: I got really into Ouran again within the past few weeks. I couldn't help but want to write about it, but I wanted a complete tonal shift from the basic story. So I created a character that was a little more Slytherin than the cast of Ouran usually is; one who could bring a different point of view to the world than the humor and lightheartedness that the others are commonly found doing.
Of course there's still going to be quite a lot of humor in this story - it wouldn't really be Ouran without it. If you have any questions or requests for things you'd like to see happen later on in the story, feel free to ask me about them.
I should be able to update this within the next two weeks or so, as long as I'm able to keep up with my outline and not get sidetracked by... other things. I can't force it to come out, but I seem to be having a pretty easy time churning this out. Ouran is a fun world to play with! And next chapter we should get introduced to our main character and maybe a few others. Should be fun... ;-)