No reviews? How heart-breaking...

Well, this is technically the first chapter of the story (it's not very good though...) a few main characters have yet to be introduced. Bad writer. Bad.

Warning(s): Just a certain model being a total smart-ass...

Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club. I wish I did, though...

*_*_*_*R&R*_*_*_*

In Japan, a male man has the most power in his family. He will have the first and final say in everything that requires decision. He has made the rules, and he will in force them with an iron fist of power. Yes, some would say that the Male species is defiantly dominant to the Female race.

But, then again, those certain individuals were total morons.

A male figure in Japan could do anything they wanted, but if he even mumbled the name Harumi Shiraga, you can bet the next topic would be about divorce.

Out of all the Japanese Woman in the world, Harumi Shiraga was voted number one Personality, number one for Looks, and number one Female Figure.

At sixteen, Harumi Shiraga was the most well-known model.

The word 'Beauty' was out of her shadows league.

'Drop-Dead-Gorgeous' cowered in her presence.

And 'Intimidating' was her best friend.

After only a month in the modeling business, she was no longer defined with common words. Her appearance was called something along the lines of "Milk chocolate hair, Intense Mahogany eyes, and Soft angel skin", with a personality total opposite; consisting of "A Devious She-Demon."

Woman envy her, men want her. What isn't there to love?

The answer is clear. Last year, on her fifteenth birthday, Harumi was the victim of a fatal car wreck.

On her way to the local Hospital, Harumi died three times from multiple lacerations and sever head trauma. She revived within seconds of each death, but once she reached the hospital, things were looking very grim in her favor. Then, there, in the operating room, young star, Harumi Shiraga died once again, this time for seventy minutes straight.

But, as we, her devoted fans, prayed for her well being, she awoke on her own!

Her doctors have concluded that she must have gone into a slight coma from the initial shock of the situation, though most fans aren't so sure that's all that happened that night.

Once Shiraga-San left the Doctor's care, it was obvious that something was very different about her.

Instead of her cute, bubbly attitude we all had come to know, Harumi was cold, uncaring, and completely dark. Instead of responding negatively to this suddenly change in personality, her fans ate it up, totally engrossing themselves in the newest, darkest, Harumi Shiraga.

Tabloid nicknamed her "The She-Demon," which she gladly accepted as her permanent title.

Using this new title to their advantage, designers and photographers everywhere signed with Shiraga-San and brought on the 'Dark Pop' Era to the fashion industry. Designers now admit that, if there had never been an accident, our latest and hottest fashions would never have been designed. So, a big thanks to you, Shiraga-San!

What will you influence next?

Che. "I'll influence everyone to knock you upside your fat head…"

An older woman, thirty-two, looked up from her beloved Dell laptop. Pulling her glasses down the bridge of her nose, she studied the younger child carefully. "Something wrong, Harumi?"

The model looked over, an annoyed look on her perfect face, before she collapsed on her plush couch. "Of course there's something wrong, Saki," she began in an overly-exasperated tone. "There's always a damn problem! Which one do you want to hear first? Your choices are the same as ever; A, B, or C?"

Saki narrowed her jade eyes, shooting imaginary lasers through Harumi's pretty little head. "You know," she started. "I think I liked you better before your accident."

"Congratulations! You have chosen choice A! Ding-Ding-Ding!" Saki resisted the urge to flip off her client. "Why does everyone seem to practically breathe off the oxygen wasted on re-telling my sad little story?"

Saki, rather forcefully, shut her laptop, pulled off her thin-rimmed glasses, and sighed with slight anger. "For the six hundredth and thirty-ninth time, trauma and tragedy is probably the best gossip material out there, besides 'who-ever got knocked-up by what-ever.' And you, darling, have both of those thing."

Harumi looked up, one crafted brow arched as if for a picture. "I'm pregnant? Since when?" She smirked when she saw her favorite manager stiffen in annoyance. Deciding to play her 'Devious She-Demon' role, she asked, in an overly innocent voice, "Saki-San, how do people get pregnant?" All the color drained from the woman's face as she began babbling on and on about useless material that Harumi already knew. But the model enjoyed anyhow.

Besides, what else was there to do?

Ah, yes. Without her dear manager, Saki-Chan, Harumi would get oh so bored.

Harumi stretched out across the black leather of the long, limo seat, her head resting on Saki's lap. "So, Ms. Manager, who has me today; Apollo, Fletcher, Momoya, Hidalgo, Christopher?" Harumi smiled.

Saki's beeping on her PDA finally stopped, meaning she was ready to stab her smart-mouthed client with her cheap, French-tip manicure. But alas, no blood shed came (not like it ever came) and the poor, abused manager simply stated, "We have Hitachiin booked for the next..." more beeping. "Six months."

Harumi's demented smile faded into a small, sweet one. "That's good."

Out of all those she had worked with before, Hitachiin-Sama was by far her favorite. She enjoyed the older woman's happy, active, and preppy attitude. It always brightened Harumi's day to see the smiling designer nod her head in approval when a picture came out perfect, or when a turn on the runway left the front row VIP's gasp in admiration. And not only that, but Hitachiin-Sama was like a second mother to her, always doting and playfully scolding her. It reminded her so much of her Mother Dearest from so long ag-

Harumi sat up straight, almost hitting her head on the roof of the long car.

No, no, no! She could not think back to that. Those memories were banished from her mind the day she woke up in that cold hospital bed. She couldn't remember; she wouldn't. Not after what she had done to get this far…

Masking her feelings once more, Harumi sat up, straightened her black dress, and gazed out the window.

Sighing, she glared at nothing in particular.

Well, there went her good mood.