Chapter 1
They had crossed paths many times in high school. Exempt from the uniform as a scholarship student, it was always a surprise to him given her lineage. She could have easily afforded tuition, being the middle child of a real estate tycoon.
They shared the same science classes. Calculus, as well. She scored high, though never as high as he did. She didn't seem to care. In fact, they never made eye contact. She was, in his eyes, a mediocre student with nothing special to her. She was thin air to him, as far as she knew.
Tamaki knew her better than he did. They both shared music classes together, but Tamaki revelled in her technique that surpassed his. He only played for fun. She played to win competitions and scholarships. For her, the class was an easy A.
Mari Takuya was on her way to becoming a professional pianist – worthy of playing for the top conservatories across the world.
Needless to say, the only time they saw each other was after school. She practiced in the other music room, oftentimes her playing would seep through the walls. It offered a soothing background noise for the Host Club. Until one day, when the shattering of the vase coincided with the slamming of the keys.
It began when she knocked on the door – after hours of the Host Club when Haruhi had broken the vase. She poked her head through the frame, cautiously like a cat. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the frilly Victorian furniture that adorned the room. She pursed her lips and shook her head. Her eyes travelled along the entire horizon of the room.
Large sweater. Glasses. Messy short hair.
Probably a scholarship student. Maybe a year younger because she'd never seen this person before in her classes.
Vase broken. Probably worth millions of yen.
She heard the scribbling of a pen against a clipboard. Kyouya Ootori wrote things down hurriedly. Whoever broke the vase was in a lot of debt. They made eye contact and she sighed.
It didn't matter if she asked them to quiet down – this damn club was always a ruckus and she read the room easily. She slipped out of the room just as quietly as she came in. No one knew.
He caught her walking through the halls, her backpack half-opened with the piano scores slipping out of her bag. Their calculus homework had been completed, crinkled along the edges and shoved in between another book of scores. She was messy. She didn't care.
"Ootori-san," she called out without turning her back. She could hear his footsteps behind her. Her voice was deeper than he thought. He hardly ever heard her spoke in class, and she was never called upon. "Please tell your friends to quiet down."
He tilted his head, watching her push through the glass doors.
She was a classically trained pianist, beginning at the age of 5. Taught by a Viennese pianist who had studied at the most famous conservatories across Europe, Mari's technique was prodigal with the right tutelage.
Yet, she was nothing special. She did not stand out. She took the scholarship entry test on a whim, before she was meant to be enrolled at Lobelia. What difference did it make if she didn't make it? Her grades were average. But her piano playing was excellent.
Well, it is up to you where you'd like to go then, Mari. After her parents had received news that she had gotten into the school with a music scholarship. The only caveat was that she had to represent Ouran Academy on national, and if possible, international competitions to build upon the school's elite reputation.
It was difficult to say that she was a different breed than the Host Club members. She too, was bred to mingle with the rich and famous. But alas, Mari chose another path. While her brother was destined to inherit the real estate business, her younger sister was at Lobelia and in a frivolous stage in her teenage years.
Her mother doted on the youngest of the family. The father groomed the eldest to be the heir. Mari was… well, she was Mari. Free as a bird. An afterthought. The forgotten middle child. It used to bother her until she listened to the conversations in class about overbearing parents and expectations to fulfill as the heirs of their family empires.
She did not envy that life. Mari quite enjoyed the freedom that she had. But like all of her classmates, minus the commoners – she had classes for etiquette, dancing, foreign languages, and of course, music.
There was something nice about being in her own bubble. And of course, Mari enjoyed the freedom of wearing whatever she pleased. The obnoxious yellow dress as a uniform was a nightmare in her eyes. Commoners often mistook her as one of their own given her lack of uniform.
Mari of course, welcomed it. Her friends worked twice as hard to stay in school. They laughed over the frivolous things that the rich complained about. They often made jokes about the Host Club. Somehow, Mari found them to be much more relatable than the rest of her regular classmates. So naturally, Mari grew to find the members to be rather annoying.
Mari never spoke about her family to her friends. And somehow, her friends never asked – they'd always seen Mari to be down-to-earth like the rest of them. Mari was a commoner, for all they knew.
Her friends were other scholarship students, those who could not afford the fees of the Host Club and thus, were never a part of the client list that Kyouya kept. He would see them eat lunch together in the corner of the cafeteria. Her younger cousin, however, was a client and fancied the company of Honey and Mori. She was a sweet young girl, two years younger than her. Her cousin spoke fondly of Mari.
"Ah, Mari-chan will performing during the same night as you, Tamaki-san. The music students hold a performance at the end of each term, right?"
"Ah, yes!" Tamaki chirped up. "She is so talented! Is that her playing now?" A quiet murmur of Chopin filled the Third Music Room.
The cousin nodded. "She's always practicing so she can keep her music scholarship."
Kyouya overheard the conversation and deemed the information to be useless. She was nothing special. They never spoke during class. She sat a few rows behind him. There was no doubt that she knew who he was – who didn't? He was Kyouya Ootori. His family's wealth surpassed her family's by a factor of 10.
The entire Host Club came to support their friend, and of course – leader of the Host Club at the end of the term for his performance. Haruhi was dragged along, under the bribe of her debt being lowered by 1% for every half hour that she spent with the club (at the expense of Tamaki's own salary, of course).
The group of friends gathered backstage to meet the blonde. The rest of the performers were playing their own instruments – violinists, flautists, oboists and everything in between. It was a bit of a chaotic time as the musicians tuned their instruments and made last minute adjustments to their performance. Mari sat in the corner with her headphones in, studying the score of her piece.
She wore a silk black gown that pooled to the floor. She blended in with the curtains – understated as usual. Her hair was in a simple bun. She looked sophisticated for a sixteen year old. Her makeup done to perfection. Her fingers moved along the beat.
"That's Mari Takuya," Tamaki pointed out, half-yelling over the noise. "She's going before me."
"Shouldn't you also be reviewing your score?" Kyouya pointed out. Mari was deep in concentration while Tamaki was bouncing around the walls, a nervous wreck of energy that the Twins only fuelled with their teasing.
"Aye Tono, wouldn't it be hilarious if you froze and forgot your entire piece?" the Twins laughed and slapped each other on the back.
The leader of the Host Club groaned. "Haruhi! Tell them to stop!"
"I'm only here to decrease my debt," she grumbled, wanting nothing to do with the growth that had suddenly latched onto her arm.
"This is a good chance for you to experience culture as a commoner," Kyouya pointed out. To which, Haruhi rolled her eyes.
"Hey, isn't she a scholarship student?" Haruhi had seen Mari around the halls – also uniform-less. Or at least, before she got a uniform herself. "She blends in very well tonight. I wouldn't have been able to tell her apart from the rich."
"She is rich," Kyouya muttered.
"Oh," Haruhi was pleasantly surprised. "Didn't seem like it."
Mari noticed the sudden crowd that formed in her peripheral vision. The damn Host Club was here. She watched as Tamaki bounced off the walls, the Twins following closely behind the boy to taunt him. That short haired one, the scholarship student who magically got a uniform after all these months seemed to be the only sane one with the quiet giant who stood with a sleepy little blonde. Honey, if she remembered correctly.
She huffed. They were a distracting crowd.
Mari stood to get some air. She had fifteen minutes before the show began. She was the opening act. The plan was to play, bow, and leave. All within half an hour.
Mari was certainly an accomplished pianist. Her introduction had varying titles strewn at the end of her name, far more accomplished than Tamaki in every way.
"Is this the set list? Ah, that Takuya girl is performing isn't she? I heard her play with the Tokyo Orchestra a few months ago. She is brilliant. True to the score in every way possible. Highly technical. A bright future in music for that young lady."
Kyouya raised an eyebrow at the conversation behind him as he settled in the rows of seats in the theatre.
"She plays in the exact opposite of Tamaki," Haruhi noted.
"Hm?"
The girl beside him shrugged. "Just a thought."
Kyouya slipped away from the theatre to review the finances for the club. Something in the books didn't add up. There were four acts in between Mari and Tamaki. Quite frankly, Kyouya couldn't have cared less. He found a quiet spot in the crook of the staircase, before bumping into a crouched figure who sat on the marble steps, the fabric of the gown pooling around her. It was a tripping hazard. Kyouya glared at the girl who had just gotten off the stage.
She raised an eyebrow at him. What?
He was expecting an apology.
She wasn't going to give one to him. Mari refused to bow down to someone like him. He was nicknamed the Shadow King and to hell with that stupid title, she thought.
She blinked up at him, her eyelashes fluttering innocently. Mari wasn't about to apologize, not when she had this spot first.
"You're in the way," Kyouya gritted through his teeth.
"There is an alternate route, Ootori-san." Mari clicked her tongue as she got up gracefully with her heels. She walked up the stairs with the train of her dress purposefully in the way of the Ootori. Only the sound of her heels filled the deafening silence. She took her sweet time, annoying the Ootori who glared daggers into her back.
Mari was never one to be petty. She was taught better than to do things out of spite.
But he was something else. The way he ruled the entire class, as class president or as the Shadow King with everyone under his grip – it was unfair. Mari didn't expect to be on his radar, ever. Never in her life did she expect herself to be worthy of his attention and she never wanted it either.
Mari spoke with Tamaki on the occasion – he often invited her to the Host Club, to which, she always politely declined. He understood, given their shared class of music. It was not easy to win competitions without practice.
Mari ran into that other scholarship student one day. Her clumsy self had dropped her piano scores as it fell out of her backpack. A pair of feminine hands had reached down to help her gather the loose sheets.
Mari looked up to see that it was the same person who had broken the vase.
"Thank you," she softly murmured. "You didn't have to."
"Oh, it's nothing," the voice was surprisingly high. Short hair. Feminine hands. Large brown eyes.
Huh, I didn't know the Host Club had female hosts.
"I'm Haruhi," she held out a hand.
"Mari," the pianist reciprocated.
"I heard you play last term at the performance with Tamaki," Haruhi noted. "You were excellent."
She blinked. "I…try," Mari humbly accepted the compliment. "You're… a host?"
Haruhi nodded.
"Against your will?" Mari offered in explanation.
"How did you know?" the female host widened her eyes in surprise.
"I heard a vase break in the beginning of the year." And it threw me off my practice. "The walls are thin between the music rooms," she explained. "You're a new face." Mari put the pieces together quickly.
"Ah," Haruhi nodded. "You're also a scholarship student, yes?"
Mari nodded in confirmation. "I'll see you around." The student turned to the adjacent door and opened it to begin her practice of the day.
"Yeah. See you," Haruhi waved goodbye.
The youngest host opened the music room door to find the Shadow King standing right behind it.
"You cannot tell people you are a host against your will, Haruhi. What kind of business are we running? A brothel?" The Shadow King growled. He quickly whipped out his padfolio and began taking notes.
"You're not… adding more debt… are you?" Haruhi wailed.
The Ootori did not answer. He gave a quick glare.
There was a knock on the door. Neither of the two answered it.
"Whatever your business is – it's illegal and adding more debt to that poor girl does nothing but smear your reputation."
Keyword: girl.
Kyouya narrowed his eyes and violently opened the door to find Mari with her arms crossed, standing aloof. He was quick to drag her in before anyone else heard about the secret that had been garnering more profit for the club than ever before. She yelped in surprise and her fury only grew at the Shadow King.
"How did you know about Haruhi?" Kyouya began interrogating.
Mari blinked. Their entire business plan was based on Haruhi as a male host. It suddenly made sense.
"It would be wise not to cross an Ootori, Takuya-san." The Shadow King's patience was waning thin.
"Oh," she softly said, her eyes widening in amazement. Those bright orbs mocked him in every way. It made Kyouya's blood boil. "So you do know my name."
"Answer the question, Takuya-san," Kyouya growled, obviously annoyed that the girl had no reaction to his threat. Was she stupid?
"Well – if I tell you, will you decrease her debt?"
"No," his answer was firm.
"Hm," Mari shrugged. "Well then. Best of luck, Haruhi-chan. Oh wait – why not just tell everyone that you're a girl so you'll get out of this dumb club?"
Haruhi opened her mouth to answer.
"That is not an option," the Shadow King interjected. "Do you know how much power I have?"
"As an Ootori?" Mari scoffed. "Yes. We all do," she rolled her eyes. Mari huffed and turned her heel towards the door. She had enough of this bullshit and she was already behind schedule in her piano practice, anyway.
The Shadow King watched as the girl unabashedly walked out of the music room, daring to defy his orders.
Who did she think she was?
"What if we bribe her?" Hikaru suggested.
"Yeah, she's poor, isn't she?" Kaoru piped up.
Mori stayed silent and Honey only watched the events unfold as he ate his strawberry cake. The Host Club had an emergency meeting after hours.
"She doesn't need money," Kyouya growled. "She's rich."
"Oh?" Tamaki raised an eyebrow.
"Not as rich as us," the Ootori clarified.
Haruhi blinked at the members of the Host Club, confused by their panic. "It doesn't seem like she would tell anyone. She seems quite nice, actually."
"Haruhi, do not be so naïve," the Shadow King rolled his eyes. "What we need is dirt."
"You mean, blackmail?" the Twins corrected.
Haruhi groaned. "She doesn't respond to threats, Kyouya. She didn't even bat an eye earlier today at you – and you're terrifying."
"Thank you," Kyouya monotonously responded.
"It wasn't a compliment," Haruhi muttered.
Tamaki sighed. "No, do not blackmail Mari-chan. That is not gentlemanly."
The Twins snickered. "As if we're all gentlemen here."
"Why don't we just talk to Mari-chan?" Honey suggested.
"We did," Kyouya snapped. "And she was uncooperative." He still remembered the way she looked at him. Eyes fierce enough to fight any battle he threw at her.
"Well, to be fair…" Haruhi interjected. "You were threatening her."
The piano playing from the 2nd room stopped during a lull in the Host Club's discussion. Kyouya shook his head at all of his friends and exited the room to intercept Mari before she left. The door creaked open at the same time, revealing the Shadow King waiting patiently to unleash his fury upon the innocent young lady.
Mari glared at the boy and made the move to side step her way around Kyouya.
"Not so fast," he held up his hand. "Unless you want to run away like a coward."
Mari scoffed. "Get to the point, Ootori-san. Not all of us have all the time in the world to dilly dally and play host."
"Are you calling our establishment a waste of time?" He narrowed his eyes. As if she couldn't be any more irritating.
"I'm calling you a waste of time," Mari grumbled, adjusting the strap of her backpack on her shoulder.
"Oh ho ho ho…" the Twins snickered. "We like her!" they yelled from the back.
Tamaki popped his head out of the door, scurrying to Kyouya's side.
"My apologies, our Shadow King is… not very well accustomed to being…" Tamaki trailed off, looking at Kyouya for him to step in with an apology.
"Human?" Mari suggested.
There was a chortle from the music room. Probably the Twins again. It was Haruhi's turn to come out from the music room.
"It would do you well to watch your tongue," the Ootori warned.
"So you could waste resources to sue me because your family has enough money to do so?" Mari scoffed. "Please, as if I haven't heard the rumours about you."
"It isn't a rumour, Takuya-san."
Mari shrugged, calling his bluff.
"I could make your life a living hell," the Ootori gritted through his teeth.
"You can try—" the musician rolled her eyes.
"Alright," Haruhi put an end to their bickering. "Mari-chan, it would be nice of you if didn't tell anyone about me being a female," she got straight to the point.
Mari nodded. "If that's what you want. I can respect that." She was agreeable much to Kyouya's surprise.
Haruhi narrowed her eyes at the Shadow King, as if to prove her point that it didn't take threats nor blackmail to get their way. Kyouya rolled his eyes. She was naïve.
"How can we trust you?"
"I'm more trustworthy than you are," Mari pointed out.
"Aye, she has a point there…" One of the twins piped up. A mirror image appeared. "Kyouya has always been a scary guy. Wouldn't mess with him y'know?"
"Please, Mari-chan," Tamaki gave his puppy dog eyes.
Mari looked directly at Haruhi. She was searching for some sort of plea. A cry for help. Anything.
"Like I said," she repeated. "If that's what you want." Mari gave Haruhi one more chance. But Haruhi smiled at her, her eyes brightening up and nodding. Mari couldn't for the life of her understand why the poor commoner would want to hang with the group of shenanigans, but she was not one to overstep her boundaries either.
"Alright," Mari turned to side step around Kyouya once more. Her shoulder brushed against his unintentionally, bumping against him.
"Watch where you're going," he narrowed his eyes.
Mari would have apologized but decided that he didn't deserve it. Instead, she rolled her eyes and gave a half-assed wave of goodbye.
She was always one of the first people to reach class and of course, the quickest one to leave. Mari spent her mornings playing the piano at school, and her afternoons practicing as well. Home was for homework, of course. Piano lessons were on the weekends, extensive six hour sessions that spanned the entire afternoon with a half hour break.
Mari did not take kindly to mornings. Her playing was sloppy, her brain unable to keep track of the beat of the metronome with ease, and none of the scores were able to imprint into memory.
Her presence irritated him – ever since she told him to tell his friends to quiet down. How stupid she was, to even dare to cross one of the most powerful families in Japan. She was unabashed in her ways. The way she sauntered around – without a uniform no less, in her commoner clothing that he swore only consisted of oversized hoodies and jeans. Her hair was always in a rat's nest. It disgusted him.
As class president, it was only natural for Kyouya to show up early. Every morning, she would show up with a scowl in her usual outfit – like a pan handler. Kyouya scoffed at the way she trudged her way into the classroom, drinking her coffee in some beaten up travel mug, riddled with scratches. He could smell the coffee and he deduced that it was probably much too sweet.
She even drinks her coffee like an uncultured peasant.
He glared at her.
She shot back an equally icy look.
Mari took her seat behind him, her chair screeching against the wooden floors purposefully to mess with the Shadow King who ruled the realm of Ouran.
Tamaki watched the whole ordeal, sinking himself into the background. The tension between the two of them only made him shiver. How little these two could speak to each other, and yet their look in their eyes only screamed how much they despised one another. Tamaki was too afraid to even ask why he hated her so much.
Mari was pleasant during his classes with her. She always had been, especially when he asked of her opinion on his piano playing.
"I like how you channel your emotions so freely into your playing, Suoh-san."
He still remembered the time she complimented him after one of their seminars in class. Her critique was fair and very helpful.
"Softer on the pedals through the second phrase, between measures 55-68. You want that crisp sound with a growing crescendo."
It was like taking a master class with a seasoned professional that had been playing for decades – Tamaki was blown away by the fact that they were the same age. Tamaki thanked her for her critique, especially after acing his final performance exam.
"Oh, please do not take my comments too seriously. Every musician interprets the score differently, Suoh-san. You play wonderfully – better than I do in many aspects."
Mari was a wooden block when she played. Stiff and stoic. But her fingers moved gracefully across the keys, she interpreted the score as is. She respected the composers in every way possible, bringing each composition out in its true form.
In the same regard, Tamaki also never quite understood why Mari disliked the Shadow King so much. She was nice to everyone – except Kyouya.
Tamaki could have sworn that his best friend didn't even blink twice at the musician before she had discovered Haruhi's secret. She was thin air to him, as far as he knew. But now, Kyouya regarded her like an enemy, sneaking glares of disgust at her whenever he thought no one was looking.
It was obvious that he hated her.
Mari was not oblivious to the glares that he shot at her every chance he got. Was it a tactic to try to scare her? He infuriated her. He always had.
First with his stupid smirk that somehow all these girls found attractive. Second with his obnoxious attitude that ruled the realm of Ouran, playing the part of someone cool – he was honestly just a jerk. Thirdly, he was nothing more than a con man who capitalized on every single opportunity for money.
He was everything that Mari grew to find unfair and unjust. It was no surprise that they butted heads and her sharp tongue had gotten her where she was today.
It was a miracle that no one even noticed their tiff. The war that they fought on a daily basis. The dirty looks. The screeching of their chairs. The scoffs. The eye rolling.
Mari stuck to her usual schedule of practicing after school. By 6 PM, Mari stopped playing and packed her bag.
Kyouya stayed behind after hours of the club, tidying up the finances after Haruhi had cleaned up after the rest of the members. The same click of the door revealed both of them stepping out of their respective rooms to go home for the day.
Mari pursed her lips and locked the room. She began walking, avoiding any form of contact with the Shadow King.
Kyouya followed in her footsteps shortly after.
They waited for their respective chauffers outside the gates of Ouran. Mari leaned against the iron gate, untangling her headphones as she readied herself to ignore the Ootori at the maximum level. He eyed the girl.
Of course she'd have her earbuds tangled. Her homework was always crinkled with coffee stains. She wrote her calculus homework in pen and would scribble out the mistakes. Mari was a mess. Messy Mari, he thought to himself. He chuckled.
"Something you find funny, Ootori-san?" the girl snarled.
The Ootori stopped himself and raised an eyebrow at her.
"Yeah, I thought we were better off ignoring each other too," she snidely responded, tilting her head up to avoid his gaze. Her long fingers stuck an earbud into one of her ears before looking down at her phone to choose a playlist.
It was an old model of a phone from two years ago. Kyouya rolled his eyes. He didn't understand why she chose to live like a peasant when she clearly had the funds to invest in a better quality device. He couldn't fathom why she was never resourceful. He sighed.
"Okay, cut it out," Mari gritted her teeth. "If you're going to make noises like that then you might as well tell me what you're thinking to my face instead of silently judging me for what I wear and how I act."
Kyouya Ootori smirked. "Oh, so you care about my opinion?"
Mari exhaled as her nostrils flared. "You're right. You just reminded me that your opinion is worth nothing."
"Worth nothing? For your information, the Ootori Corporation's stock went up by 0.5% today. I don't see your family business being listed on the Tokyo Stock Exchange."
"Your wealth is inversely correlated to your integrity, Ootori-san," Mari shot back. "I wouldn't be so proud of that."
"I wasn't aware that you were a member of the moral police. By all means, please arrest me."
Mari opened her mouth to argue before Kyouya beat her to it.
"Except that it seems as though the Ootoris are the ones who own a private police unit, and you… have a petty amount of land in your family."
"Real estate developments," Mari shot back. "Do your research, Ootori-san."
"Oh, I have," the Ootori assured. "You are more than wealthy enough to afford tuition and yet, you choose to appear like a peasant amongst the rich. Your friends don't seem to realize that you are, in fact, one of us."
"Is that a threat?" Mari lowered her voice.
Kyouya smirked.
"Wow – that's truly low," Mari murmured and shook her head. "What are you going to do? Tell them that I'm rich? That I don't deserve to be a scholarship student? Make sure all my friends turn against me? Render me a loner for the rest of my high school years?"
"Surely, I believe your… friends," he spat out the word like it was poison. Scholarship students were synonymous with being commoners. "Wouldn't appreciate you lying to their face about your family background."
Mari narrowed her eyes. "Kyouya Ootori – mark my words: you are a cruel bastard with no moral compass. I dare you to sue me for slander but I know you won't because you revel in the fear of others. The power you hold. The enjoyment that is plastered across your face when you watch people squirm under your grip."
A black BMW pulled up against the curb. Mari reached for the door.
"I hate you with every fibre in my body."
And with that, she left.
I hate you with every fibre of my body.
You are a cruel bastard with no moral compass.
You revel in the fear of others.
Kyouya Ootori let the words ring at the back of his head.
These were compliments, right? But why did he feel so uneasy around her? He had achieved his goal already. He was obviously the one with the power. He had shaken her walls, broken through the front. He was part of the wealthier family. He had higher grades. Kyouya Ootori was the one with better prospects.
All Mari would amount to was a professional pianist. Who knows? Maybe she would study at a conservatory some place across the ocean, in Europe. Play some concerts. Earn a bit of money. Marry into another family of similar wealth – surely, it wouldn't be too hard for her. Assuming that she would take care of the rat's nest on her head and stopped wearing oversized sweaters. She cleaned up fine at the performance - she could do the same for a spouse. After that, Mari would disappear off the face of earth.
She was nothing. Irrelevant. A speck of algae in the midst of the Pacific ocean.
And yet, Mari Takuya was someone that stung him each time he saw her. Somehow, she saw straight through him in the lens that he found to be the most deceitful.
He was used to being revered by the female population. They fawned over him. Kyouya Ootori was feared by the rest of the school. And anyone who knew the name knew to never cross him. He carried his family's name with pride and he honoured it in the best way he could by upholding the highest standard for himself.
Mari Takuya was mediocre. Her grades were a little above average at best. She wasn't particularly pretty, either. Nothing to attract attention.
So why did he hate her so much?
Mari always sat near the back of the class. Second row from the back, near the windows. She liked the natural sunlight – it kept her awake, especially during the rough mornings of piano practice and being only half awake to function like a normal human being.
So naturally when the new term began, Mari gravitated towards her usual spot.
"Mari Takuya – please follow the seating arrangement."
Mari reluctantly turned to the blackboard, sighing at the voice of their new biology instructor. She squinted at the names.
Mari Takuya. 3rd row from the back. At least it was near the window, she thought. Her eyes glazed over to the name beside hers.
Kyouya Ootori.