This is my first fanfiction in a long time. I hope you guys enjoy. :)

"There are set rules in this estate, girl." The woman she called her obasan quipped. The mansion she was in seemed to be listening in, waiting to see what she would do or say in return. "We will only provide you your tuition, a bed, breakfast, and dinner. Do not expect us to treat you like family. Do you understand?"

Hana looked at her for a long time. She could see the similarities between her obasan and her father; she wore her dark, graying strands of elastic hair in a bun. Her skin was as white as bone. She wore a thin, permanent frown. The only difference were her eyes—they were like small clumps of coal, pasted to her face. Her father's eyes were blue, like the sky after a storm.

"Do you understand, girl?"

She read her obasan's lips, and Hana nodded.

"Ah!" she mocked. "It understands me. Good. Your room will be downstairs before the servant's quarters." Kimiko seemed to have collected the words in her hand, pat them tightly together, only to hurl them at her niece who bathed in anxiety. "Don't bother coming to me for anything. I won't understand, anyways. It's a shame you're deaf," the woman sighed. "What you do with your hands is unbecoming."

Kimiko started to walk away. She stopped and looked back to her niece, and raised an eyebrow.

"You really can't hear me much, huh?"

Hana knew for sure she didn't know sign language, British or Japanese. The girl thought for a moment, before opening her mouth to speak in a soft, raspy voice.

"I..." Her hand rested on her chest. "See..." With that same hand, she pointed a small finger to one of her green eyes. "Your..." Then, she pointed at the woman she barely knew. "Lips..."

"Hm," Kimiko wrinkled her nose. Hana felt her stomach tighten. That was a known trait for the Furukawa family; her father often did that when he was deep in thought. Unabashedly, Hana did the same. "When did this happen?"

"I went..." she began to sign. "Deaf... last year..."

"When you were sixteen?"

"Yes."

Kimiko hummed under her breath. "I thought you would sound more... deaf."

"And I thought my obasan... would be a kind person."

The woman pursed her lips at her niece's quick response. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

"Dinner will be sent to your room. You'll attend Ouran Academy starting tomorrow. The Furukawa family has a reputation to uphold, and I expect you to maintain it."

When Kimiko turned to walk away, Hana decided to do the same. Her hands were folded tightly behind her back, her green eyes downcast and her teeth grazing over her bottom lip. She knew that her father did not maintain a loving relationship with his family, and due to that their distaste boiled down to her. After all, Hana was the reason why her father left Japan in the first place. She knew, for the most part, what Kimiko said—and those words clobbered Hana in the back. She just hoped she wouldn't have to meet her ojisan, let alone her cousins. She prayed that they were distant.

She arrived to her room and took a good look. It was bigger than her old room in England; a large bed with violet, silk sheets, and soft carpet that felt like clouds beneath her feet. Two grand windows were on one side of the room, and on the other side was a photograph of crimson snapdragons. Graciousness and deception.

Hana pulled apart the curtains and watched the world outside what she now called her home. The sun had slipped behind a mountain, and the light had fallen flat. Branches were full and ripe with cherry blossoms, the warm spring wind stripping pink petals off the tips. If only she could hear the soft croaks of a Nightjar, or the trees rutting up against the window when the wind would intensify.

She tried. She really, really tried. But at that moment, tears spilled down her green eyes and her lip trembled like an earthquake.

Her hands flew to her eyes and she continued to sob until her throat was dry and her vision was blurry.

She couldn't even hear herself cry.

There are three places Mori would be found in: the kendo club, the music room, and the garden—all in that specific order. Before host club hours, he would stop by the kendo club to see his classmates and underclassmen practice. He would occasionally strip out of uniform and into a comfortable gi, and grab a spare bokken and practice with them. It was a nice routine for him to break a sweat before hosting. Honey would be taking a nap, sometimes before the club and sometimes after, and he'd wait patiently for Mori to finish.

The host club was a different story, and rather much more complicated to explain. Everyday was different, and he now found it more interesting and exciting with Haruhi (forcibly) joining the club. She was still new and trying to get accustomed to the everyday craziness. To Mori, while he didn't speak much, he found the host club to be the most amusing part of his day.

And if he needed a break from anyone or anything, he'd find himself wandering the gardens of Ouran. Cherry blossom trees were full and vibrant. Patches of pink moss and violets scattered in clumps throughout the courtyard. Mori particularly enjoyed a spot under a marble gazebo, flourished with red roses and vines. It was a spot far away from noise, from clusters of people, and even from his friends. Not many people knew of his secretive spot.

A brisk wind wove through the bushes and cherry blossoms surrounding him, twirling the leaves so that their pale undersides fluttered towards the sun. Like children thrust suddenly into the spotlight, flitting between nerves and self-importance.

That's when he saw her—the foreigner. The girl with freckles and green eyes, sitting under the gazebo with a thick, worn-out book on her lap.

He had overheard that a foreigner was being transferred to Ouran, but she would be taking... different classes. She was nearly the same age as him, he thought. Rumors spread fast in this vast academy.

He cleared his throat, but she didn't look up. Her forest eyes locked on the words on each page. Her round lips were pursed, eyebrows furrowed together, and for a second Mori thought that she was pretty. Unique. Peculiar.

She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, revealing one of her hearing aids.

Oh. That's why.

He began to turn around, not wishing to disturb the girl, but he heard a small noise from her direction, a noise akin to a squeak. A mouse.

"I'm sorry," she spoke softly in his native tongue. Her voice had a thick accent, he noted. The girl began to move her hands at the pace of her speech. "Is... this your spot?"

His gaze went from her features, to her hands as she spoke, and directed back to her eyes. Mori is a very perceptive man, as well as considerate.

"No," he shook his head. His hand went to his chest, and he shook his head once more. "Not mine."

"Oh," she sighed. She stood up, folded a page in her book, and cradled it tightly to her chest. "Well, would you... like to sit with me? There's room for two."

He stood there silently for quite some time. She was short—not as short as Honey, but shorter than Haruhi. The longer he looked at her, the more he realized that she was soft on the eyes. Gentle. And with that calming, accented voice was like a cushion. If he were to be honest, he'd much rather listen to that than the screams from the customers at the host club.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again, this time using her hand as well to create the motion. It clicked in Mori's mind that she was also using sign language to communicate, though he wasn't sure if it was the equivalent to Japanese Sign Language or otherwise. "It must be... odd for me to offer..."

"No," he held up his hand before she could make any step away. He waved his hand as a no, hoping she would understand. "Not odd. Don't leave, please."

Her face relaxed, and Mori's cheeks reddened. It was refreshing, honestly, to see a girl who didn't fawn over him. The girl sat back down and moved to make space for him. Gently, she patted the empty spot next to her, eager for his company. And of course, the third year obliged to her innocent, and encouraging request.

"What's your name?" she asked politely, lifting her head to meet his gaze. Even when sitting down, he still towered over her. He wondered if it hurt her neck to look up that much.

"Mori."

"M...Mo...ri?"

He nodded. "Mori."

"Forest?" she spoke in English. It took him by surprise, but he nodded again. He came to the conclusion that he liked her accent.

"Yes."

She lifted her hand and stretched it out. She held it sideways in front of her face, and waved it outwards.

"Forest. Mori."

He nodded, and she smiled. A tint of pink coated her cheeks, and he found it precious.

"I'm Hana."

"Hana." Mori repeated, then he spoke in English. "Flower."

When she read his lips and pieced the words together, she eagerly scooted closer to him. "Yes! Flower. Flow-" she lifted her hand towards her left side of her mouth, and folded her index finger and thumb together to make an O-K sign. "-Er." When she finished, she had moved her hand to the other side of her mouth. "Flower. Hana."

Mori repeated the motion, though carefully. "Ha-na."

When Hana would smile, her freckles would turn into commas. The outer corners of her eyes would wrinkle, and there was some sort of spark in her eyes that sent Mori reeling. He wasn't sure what the feeling was, or whether it was a good thing or bad thing. But he wouldn't mind offering his company to this tiny, foreign girl. He was already enjoying himself, even if he wasn't showing it.

"It's nice... to meet you," she spoke and signed at the same time. "I'm sorry for... being forward."

"Don't apologize," he said rather quickly. Hana blinked once, then twice, and shamefully sighed.

"I'm sorry, I... don't think I caught that..."

The tall host member reached into his bag for a pen, and tore a piece of notebook paper from a notebook he barely used. He held it down against the bench and scribbled down some words, then handed it to her.

Don't be sorry, Hana.

The girl held the paper gently, and smiled.

"Okay then. I won't be."

Another slap of wind flew by. The bottom of her skirt fluttered on the concrete ground, and her dark hair whipped through the air like a kite. She giggled at the force of mother nature, and tried to smooth her hair down before pulling a pink petal tangled in her locks.

"It's beautiful today," she mused, twirling the petal between her fingers. Mori didn't take his eyes off her.

"It is."