[ A/N: Disclaimer We don't own the characters used in this fanfic...even tho we wish we did...All (C) goes to Bisco Hatori Enjoy. ]
It is now the year 2053 and the fangirls have ruled the world, with Renge as their leader.
No one can complain about homosexual people anymore because they have all been obliterated by a Moe bazooka . The fangirls have successfully captured the world, threw all of world's system down the drain, and united the people of anime to become permanent residents of their vast kingdom.
Ouran Private Academy have been thwarted and thrown off its reign through the power of the ultimate Queen of Moe—Renge, now the age of my grandma—who quickly turned the glimmering towers of pink royalty into gallantly shining pillars of moe and trap students and her beloved host club within the evil gates that stood by her power. She would cackle on her megaphone and it would resound through the glittery halls that blind every man and woman that steps foot onto the campus. She booted off Chairman Suoh and denied all graduating students from ever leaving the school. (Not like they actually move grades in the manga though…)
Caught up in their never ending high school life, the lovable first year twins—Hikaru Hitachiin, Kaoru Hitachiin—have now shot past the age of 61, lost their mischievous ways and became crabby, denture-popping old people. The second years, also the President and Vice president, Tamaki Suoh and Kyoya Ohtori , have gotten their own retirement homes and have acquired a skill of a ten-second delayed reaction, despite the normal functioning statistics of everyone's grandparents out there. Takashi Morinozuka's growing powers were quickly snatched away, and instead of growing ever since he was 19, he began to shrink and become a poor crippled old man. Mitsukuni Haninozuka, on the other hand, shot high over 9 feet tall and is stilling growing.
A new horror to behold.
An evil tyrant that one she is…
The Host Club has never been so slow in the whole entire life of their high school years. Profits went down, Kyoya had said, pausing every so often to use his rusted yet sharp brain. He raised a finger, his eyes closing rather smartly.
Ten seconds passed, and it seemed like he was thinking a bit too hard—
"We need…" He paused a seemingly long pause. "To…"
And life began to move on.
The Host Club did poorly in their duty of serving the ladies. Silence managed to sneak in while Tamaki, the worn king, tried his best to summon up his once well-known praises seemingly out from nowhere. Alas, he kept his eyes closed too long and only produced nothing but a well-stretched snore.
The twins, no longer interested in doing brotherly act, taken to the crabbiness of all old people—yelling at the customers in loud cracking voices (not losing their sync at all) to get off their damn lawn. Disregarding the fact that there wasn't any lawn that was of their property there in the first place.
Kaoru's dentures popped out and landed within two feet of him, and they spent the rest of their time searching for the lost false teeth when it was shining, all in its glorious splendor…two feet in from of them.
Mori, oh poor Mori, the sad gentle giant. He no longer stood up taller than his cousin. In fact, his legs became so short that it now dangled from the seat, and he no longer appealed with his tallness. His cousin sat next to him, nibbling quietly at the cookies and cakes that he was given, having lost his charms so many years ago when he began to grow taller. Such a strange tragedy as such to have lost their moe…
And she…
Yes…
She…
She walked through the door as normal as she could be with rose petals flying, eyes closed in frustration, as she straightened her uniform from the previous chaos outside.
"Hey, guys, have you seen what was happening-" Her eyes popped open. "Whoa…What…the…?"
Yes, people.
This.
Was the last host member, ever.
And she was…
"H-Hasumi…" the king croaked, trying to narrow his dulled blue eyes at her. He couldn't see her very clearly, only a faint outline of the cross-dresser. "Izzat…you…?"
She flinched at the sound.
He sounded like a dying cow.
Two minutes passed and he maintained his pose for quite…a long time.
"HARUHI!"
She jumped back, eyes springing open. "Uhm…yes…that's me…" she said cautiously, backing away from the door. After all…she haven't seen people…like that…so…wrinkly… "Do I know you…?"
Was she losing her mind?
…she wondered.
"OMIGOD, IT'S—"
Pause for a few seconds and a high squeaky sound of breathing filtered through the air.
"HARU—"
"Hiiiii—"
She sat up quickly, eyes wide and twitching in her bed.
She looked at the calendar, beyond disturbed by the creepiest dream that she ever had.
Good…
It was still the current of 2013
"Hey, sweetie pie! The sun's singin' over the high—" A dry wheeze. "Hills— -coughcoughwheeze-"
...the yellow pages of the calendar buckled over and fell from its rusty nail.
Haruhi twitched, disturbed.
That really sounded like something was dying.
Fujioka Haruhi, the only normal and teenager host that there is left, pondered inside of the infirmary long and hard thinking of what she was to do. But she knew one genuine fact that she have learned of this place, the mere threads of this world—was not of reality itself! It was the fabrication of the fangirl's minds. Their will to dominate all shojo and shonen manga characters and throw crazy story plots of many different dimensions have overruled the already complex shojo/shonen life that they lead through the strokes and lines of the mangaka's pen.
Haruhi will not let this world she had lived once to fall from the gray scaled screen tones of the once proud book of Ouran. NO. She will not stand by it and allow herself to be wasted away like the other Host Club members, forced to repeat the same grade over and over again, all for the fact that all fanfictions are based off the threads of the canon.
The world cannot all be about school, school, and more school.
If she goes on like this—
She'll become like the rest of them! Wrinkly and saggy, perfectly unable to satisfy the girls at Ouran anymore!
She has to do something about it.
-Sometime later…
An email popped up onto the screen, blaring so brightly in the dark room:
With most and utmost polite regards towards the high and mighty mangaka Bisco Hatori,
We love your manga, but We REALLY need a life.
Sincerely,
Your Heroine of Ouran High School Host Club,
Haruhi Fujioka