Matsuri Honoka was a physically delicate child. Her lungs were weak, and she had a condition that made her unwell frequently. Her family was a traditional household, however, and she was raised on the principles of honor and strength and honesty and silence. She had taken to her family's private lessons like a fish to water, and she flourished quite well despite it all.
Though meek and quiet, she was straightforward when asked a question and willful with her private belongings. She was delicate, yes, but proud. She stood tall, always, with clouds hanging in her eyes, and a tongue of fire and acid ready to lash.
Despite her distant nature, however, she was far from imbecilic and actually carried within the top ten of the school, often third in her year. She preferred day dreaming, but she was not unobservant.
And, looking out the window to her left, she pursed her lips into a tighter frown and refrained from grumbling under her breath like a child. Shifting her purple gaze to her cellular device, she tapped agilely across the screen with her thumb and flipped thoughtfully through her photo gallery.
No, this would not do.
She mentally fortified herself and the onslaught of fury made her defenses all that much stronger. She scrubbed at her face with her hands and had to blink away angry tears. Slamming her palms against the table, she stood and the noisy classroom silenced as all turned to look at her. She stared back unwaveringly and raised a sharp eyebrow. A slow, careful smirk colored her face and her classmates turned away rapidly. She flipped a few stray strands of her hair over her shoulder in malicious mirth, then pocketed her phone.
Marching out the door, she stalked her way through the fanciful campus and up a large flight of red-carpeted stairs. She grew winded on the stairwell, having to pause frequently to catch her breath. Pressing her hand to her chest, she winced at the sheer number of steps and declared internally that she would never do this again. The tightness in her chest cavity clamped hard around her heart and she coughed, and coughed, and coughed, having barely retrieved her handkerchief in time to cover her mouth.
Her coughing fit lasted the rest of the way up the stairs, and she had since lost some of the outrage that fueled her journey but she was nothing if not determined. Dabbing at her lips for excess saliva, she closed her eyes and braced herself. She would probably regret this later, but if she did not say a word, would she not regret that even more?
Folding her cloth, she placed it in her pocket and threw her arms wide to toss open both doors of the music room.
There was just over an hour before club hours, and she knew only members would be present for her hissy fit. Her gaze swept over the entire room, and she ignored the Suoh heir outright. Brushing him aside with a literal wave of her hand, she simultaneously side stepped his notoriously grabby hands and twirled about the coffee table said princely host's advances had almost knocked her into.
No, her attention was on the Shadow King of the host club.
He sat at his usual table in the back of the room and had not even bothered to look up from his laptop since she had walked in. That did not bother her in the least. She was founded enough, still, in her anger that a slight like that could not even phase her. Instead, she stood opposite him with her arms folded and patiently tapped her foot against the floor.
Soon enough, he pushed his glasses further up his nose and looked over them at her, "May I help you. . . ?"
So that was how he wanted to play? She found herself amused despite her rage. He was fishing for her name. It both amused and insulted her. Did he think her a fool of some sorts? She knew without a doubt he already knew her name. She was not skilled enough to avoid the Ootori's background checks. She would be utterly unsurprised if he could list her family's most profitable ventures off the top of his head.
"No, no you may not," Honoka answered his half-forgotten question so coldly ice could almost be seen on her breath. A cool glare to match pinned him in place, and she whipped out her phone with a masterful grace only haughty girls could be capable of. She leaned over the table until her face was inches from the host club's financial manager, and hissed. "I really have no problems with you, or the host club, or your unnecessarily loud hobbies. Really, I don't. However, I draw the line at purposely letting bullying continue right under your nose for the sheer sake of your own amusement and benefit."
To hammer her point home, she leaned back just a touch and looked over her shoulder at the ginger haired twins. "Pranks are one thing," she said, the cold sneer still not quite wiped from her face, "They are meant to make others laugh, to make fun. They can be taken a tad too far, but as long as those pranked can still laugh about it, that makes a good prank."
She switched her sharp gaze to the Morinozuka and Haninozuka heirs. The littler of the two visibly flinched at the coldness on her face. "A man with great strength must temper it with passiveness and patience, lest his anger be used against him." She said it distantly, almost as if she were reading it straight from one of the instructional ledges they kept at home.
Then her attention snapped back to the present, to them, and they were again taken aback at the ferocity in her gaze, "Letting others be harmed out of your own negligence only disgraces your honor."
She whipped around, rising to her full height, and pointed a finger straight at the blond Suoh heir. She paused, coughing vigorously into her napkin until blood pooled in the corner of her mouth, and she grimaced. Clearing her throat, she straightened yet again. This time, she continued calmer. "And you," she managed to bring the bite of winter into their warm clubroom, "You gather girls at your side, and you flirt, and you fill them with tea and fanciful tales, and you put stars in their eyes and the idea of love in their hearts."
"You make yourself icons to the female population and the envy of the male population. Then have the gall to pull a bystander into your circle of affairs without taking precautions," she finished in a quieted roar, "You do not check to see whether your fans might spawn jealousy at having your attention so suddenly diverted." It was, however, her next words that struck an arrow straight through the Suoh's heart, "Your negligence both disturbs and disgusts me."
Turning back to the table, and coincidentally the third Ootori heir, she pulled up one of the photos on her phone and spun the machine across the table. The lit screen spiraled to a still perfectly lined up before the brunette.
"I do believe," she said slowly, as though talking to a child, "That Ouran Academy has a zero tolerance policy, correct? I am not above having this little party disbanded if your behavior is not corrected. It cannot be known that the heir to the academy advocates bullying, now can it?"
She snatched up the device before he could completely analyze the picture, or the words she had spoken, and slid it into her pocket for safekeeping.
By the end of her lengthy spiel, the hosts surrounding her were quiet speechless, and even the Ootori had both eyebrows raised. "Bullying? I must ask where such an allegation comes from, Matsuri-san."
She smiled then, but it was chilled and cold on her brittle features. "I see," she said as her eyebrows pinched in the center. She shook her head pityingly at him, "You know precisely what I speak of, Ootori-kun, and you will see it right. Or by the grace of all that is unholy, I will have this practice disposed of altogether."
The stress on the honorific was not lost on him, she could tell by the widening then narrowing of his eyes. Oh yes, she was a senior and she was not above pulling rank. Especially in a situation like this.
She turned on the snap of her heel and nodded curtly to the Morinozuka and Haninozuka heirs. Their families were close associates of her own. She would not be surprised if she had a marriage contract with one of the families waiting for her upon graduation. At the door, she glanced back at them over her shoulder and cleared her sore throat. She had never spoken quiet this much in probably her entire life. It was certainly more than she had said in the past year, put together.
"I have nothing against you gentlemen personally. But you certainly have no idea what the real world's really about. You say you entertain ladies," she couldn't help but sneer at the word, "but I have yet to see anything but delusional girls flock to your galas. When you can determine the difference between a girl and a lady, perhaps then I will acknowledge that you are not boys playing a man's game. Goodbye."
With that, she bolted. Slamming the door shut behind her, she sank against one of the decorative pillars outside. There, she pressed a hand to her chest and whimpered as the pain finally overtook her. Shaking, she could only wait out the waves of agony pouring out from her chest. Rapid footsteps passed her hiding spot and she looked around it to see the host club's king bolting out of the club room.
Oh god, she was beyond nervous. She stood by what she had said, but she was in class 3-B for a reason. Her family, though wealthy in their own right, would not stand a chance against the boys she had just gone to insult.
She cringed. Oh, what would her mother say? Worse still, what would her father do?