Although he walked into school as though it were any other day, Kyoya was keenly aware that it was not. He wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, much less himself, but he had been just a bit more careful that morning, triple checking his tie and hair, careful to look perfectly put together.

Today was the day that Ariella LeFevre began her education at Ouran Academy.

Ariella Lefevre was like many of the girls at Ouran. Rich, of course. Well connected. She would be entering Class 2A, with Kyoya and Tamaki. She was transferring from a French finishing school where she had studied mainly art. Her father was one of the world's leading businessmen in medical equipment.

Which is where Kyoya's interest came in. Some days earlier at the breakfast table, Kyoya's father had mentioned that the LeFevre girl was to be enrolling at Ouran.
"Kyoya," he had said thoughtfully, "it would be...prudent for you to be friendly with this girl. Her father and I are in business together and he's brought up several times that the two of you should meet. I wonder if it didn't have anything to do with his choice to move her here, to Ouran."
Kyoya pondered this as he walked down the marble hallways to class. Corporate families had replaced noble ones, and here they were, operating the same way. Vying for money, power. Eldest sons reigned after their fathers, youngest scrounged for what they could get. Even after all this time, they were so little advanced. His father was arranging a marriage for him. He didn't need to come out and say it: He knew Kyoya would not object. If he wanted to someday lead the company, or any part of it, what Kyoya needed more than anything in the world was to meet and exceed his Father's every expectation. He would not compromise his Father's opinion of him for anything. And his Father knew that. Knew how he longed to push past his elder brothers and seize what he wanted, what he felt he deserved.
Still lost in thought, Kyoya took his seat. He looked around, but he didn't see anyone new. She was probably speaking with the school's administrators before class. Tamaki came in and began to babble at him, but he didn't listen very much. He was too distracted.
Then it happened. Homeroom was beginning, and with a knock at the door, a new girl strode in and was introduced to the class.
She did not look like her photographs. That was his first thought. She was surprisingly tall, and very thin. She had a long face, framed by short but lively brown hair, curling around her ears and sweeping across her forehead. Her eyes were gray, and almost sad shaped, making her expression look deeper than it probably was.
He looked at her as she was introduced by the teacher, and watched her eyes rove over the class until they found his.
And when they did, they filled with fire.
He looked at them, and forget any notions of their sad shape. All he saw there was fire and a challenge. She looked at him and made it all too clear that she was unhappy with her situation, unhappy to be here, and unhappy that he even existed.
Kyoya felt his heart drop a little bit, and as much as he wanted to he couldn't pull his eyes away from hers. She stared right at him through her entire introduction, even as she spoke. She had an accent, but was also perfectly fluent in Japanese: like Tamaki, one of her parents was Japanese and the other French, but her time in France had certainly affected her speech.
Finally, she took her seat, and Kyoya realized he hadn't heard a word she had said, although his attention and gaze had never left her. Unlikely as he was to admit it to anyone, she had utterly terrified him. She sat just a couple seats ahead of him, and a row to the right.
He turned to look at Tamaki, and found that his friend had somehow not noticed the staring match, with her fiery gaze.
"That's incredible, that she's going to be doing an exhibit! The school she went to is one of the leading art institutes in France, I would love to see her pieces!" Tamaki whispered loudly to him. He cringed as he saw her turn to look at them, but Tamaki just waved in a friendly manner.
She surprised him by returning the wave with a friendly smile. She ignored Kyoya, which irked him a little.
After all, she had never even met him. Who was she to draw conclusions about him? He warranted a little respect. It was their fathers, especially her own with whom she should be angry. He was as much a piece in their game as she was. He sat through homeroom, secretly steaming, not hearing any of what was said, and the moment the bell sounded he stood up and strode to her desk, all fear forgotten.
"Hello. I'm Kyoya Ootori, I just wanted to introduce myself." He extended a hand and looked at her. She ignored the hand and stared right back up at him.
"I know." She said calmly.
"I believe our fathers know each other."
"Oh, I think we both know that they do." Her voice had a little ice in it this time, and he cringed inwardly.
"Well, I don't know that we should let that should color our opinions of each other. It would be a pleasure to get to know you better, and to see some of our art. My friend says the school you transferred from was very prestigious for art."
"It was, and I will draw my own opinion about you in any way I see fit."
With that she turned back to face the front, presumably waiting for him to walk away. He began to turn, but then turned back.
"In any case, it would be an honor if you would visit the club my friends and I run after classes today."
She turned back to him, intrigued. "A club? What kind of club?"
"A host club," he replied, trying to bury his smugness. Yet another thing he admitted to no one, he took great pleasure in the way the host club was something no one expected of him. It surprised people and made them take a second look at him, and Kyoya liked that.
"A host club," she repeated, narrowing her eyes at him. "I don't think so."
"But Miss LeFevre!" Tamaki exclaimed, coming from seemingly nowhere. "I would be most honored if you would grace our club with your presence. It isn't every day we get a new student as beautiful and talented as you are."
She stared at Tamaki, nonplussed for just an instant, but then her friendly side returned. "When you put it that way, how could I refuse? I'm Ariella LeFevre."
"Tamaki Suoh, at your service," he said, bowing gallantly. "In that case, Miss LeFevre, I eagerly await your presence at the club today. We meet in Music Room 3!"