Let's Not Change the World
Chapter Two
I was accustomed to having all eyes on me; it came with the territory of being the coming-of-age daughter of a prestigious family. Each business engagement or family outing was an opportunity for me to look my best and be the perfect example of what everyone wanted their daughter (or wife, as my current age group stressed upon) to be. It helped to "draw more consumers in," as my mother had once told me while I was young and impatient with the preparing process. I had long since grown used to the hours of prepping before hand, learning that it was necessary. I enjoyed or at the very least was comfortable with hundreds - sometimes thousands - of eyes staring at me in a single duration of time. I put up with the beautifying process and stood as a mannequin at my father's side, not minding in the least that I was merely there as a tool; it was part of my purpose. I could handle the overly-styled hair and caked on make-up if only to please my father and keep his business running on the top. Who wants to associate themselves with a rugged pedestrain, after all?
I learned to accept the captious stares of all of his executives. I wasn't so modest as to call my appearance unappealing, nor was I naive enough to fool myself in the belief that my father's male associates and their sons engaged in my company solely for the conversation. It was the way things worked. You accepted, learned, and controlled it. It could notoriously be known as the "art of manipulation". There were certain times I almost enjoyed the entertainment of males' attention; the thrill of getting into their minds and negotiating the next move. I had made a game from it for my own selfish entertainment. No one can deny the feeling of absolute power as you stood at the top, the center of all attention.
This, I recalled, standing before a small group of handsome young men, was the first moment I had thoroughly hated it.
All six males and the manly female snapped their necks to the door as I entered, a river of rose petals cascading into my view and marring my sight momentarily. Despite this handicap, I was unpleasantly surprised that I could still feel each one of their eyes boring into my discomforted form. I didn't think I'd been so uncharacteristically self-conscious since my first company campaign as a child - the first time I stood before hundreds of my father's business partners. How strange that after all of this time these seven simple people could pull such a reaction out of me.
The petals ceased their decline, settling at my feet and leaving me (and them, the Club) within plain view. I vaguely wondered in the back of my mind (if only to serve as a distraction, I wasn't sure) if the welcome accompanied every one of their customers. If so, how did their help clean up the mess? They would have to have a maid come between each of their visitor's entrances. What a waste of labor.
Tamaki seemed to be the first to identify me, muttering out, "K-Komori-chan...?"
Almost simultaneously, Haruhi joined him with an exceedingly more put-together, "Komori-sempai?"
I frowned deliberately, demonstrating my dislike for the situation. I took a moment to release a refined sigh, sucking up my displeasure and gliding forward a single step to bow politely before my company.
"Konnichiwa, minna-san..."
I let my head fall forward lightly in the bow, closing my eyes in inward thought. How could Haruhi possibly have motivated me to do such a disreputable thing?! What was I thinking hypnotizing myself into this?! I should have remained behind the confinements of that door - never entered!
I decided an amiable amount of time had passed in silence, enough for me to gather my wits and face the room once more. The sooner I began, the sooner I could leave. I pulled my back straight, lifting my head and re-opening my gaze.
And instantly I was met with overwhelming mauve orbs. In fact, the (admittingly amazing) colored eyes seemed to be taking up my entire line of vision, blocking out any background distractions. I startled, not at all expecting Tamaki's proximity and craning my neck backwards with a jerk only to find his hand already cupping the skin and, with a caressing touch, tactfully pulling me in even closer.
"Komori-hime, what an extraordinary pleasure it is for you to grace us! Such a ravishing creature should never be kept from the public eye for so long! Please, Komori-hime, allow me to cradle you in my arms until the world ends, protect you with my very soul and grant you any wish your heart desires! I only ask for your promise of passion in return..."
I could feel my entire being clam up, eyes darting rapidly between both of Tamaki's. I hadn't the least clue what it was he was blabbering about but I was sure it was the same treatment his guests received. Did he think I was one of them? The hazed gleam in his eyes simply oozed a sense of eternal amorous; a painstaking amount of overbearing, loving devotion. I found the act far more frightening than seductive. I could only think about how much closer he would bring our faces - when he would stop. If he would stop. How far was too far? Was there a too far for him? He couldn't possibly go that far. I was under the impression that the young men drew a line with their "hosting". Where exactly was this line at the moment? I felt he had crossed it some time ago! Why did he keep advancing? Did those love-struck twits actually enjoy this? The tip of his nose brushing - itching - against theirs? I longed to get rid of the annoying sensations; to swat it away like a degenerate pest.
And I did.
The slap cracked through the atmosphere like a whip, echoing around the silent room with baleful vibrations. My hand instantly began stinging sharply, only slightly soothed by Tamaki's warm cheek until his head had been retched too far. All froze at the moment, none of us daring to make a move or sound. My eyes widened; had I actually just done that? Had I really just hit Suou Tamaki across the face? The answer was right before me - he was still standing as close as ever, though his neck was pivoted completely to the right, chin parallel with shoulder and brilliant blond hair askewed. My eyes uneasily made their way up to his flawless cheek, now smoldering pink. How could I have ever found that much strength in myself?! I had never assaulted anyone before. Did it really come so naturally?
No, maybe this was all part of his act. Surely I hadn't hurt him that much! It must have looked worse than it felt. Then again, even my palm was suffering from the blow. I unconsciously rubbed it, eyes still unblinkingly glued to Tamaki. I had almost begun feeling horribly at fault with my actions before I remembered what had driven me to them. He had to have gotten a reaction similar to the sort before, hadn't he? Not every girl would want a man to be so unwelcomely bold. He would have known I would take it like this; he would know to apologize and speak civilly rather than try to corrupt my mind with his cheesey demonstrations. He must have encountered this type of rejection at some other time and know how to handle it like a mature adult.
I allowed myself to blink, still in the early stages of waking from my daze. By the time my eyes had re-opened, Tamaki was gone.
I was, perhaps, more startled now than I had been initially when he appeared before me in such an uncomprehendably quick amount of time. At least during that occasion my head had been lowered, eyes closed for more than just a fraction of a second. This time a mere blink was long enough for the boy to entirely vanish from my view. I stepped back in alarm (was there some type of curse in this room? Was I hallucinating? It was the only sensible explaination) hands jumping reactively up to my chest and breath hitching. My eyes widened and twitched, sweeping the room in a hectic search. I was magnetically attracted to the woeful shadow in the closest corner. Hues of blue radiated from the black cloud surrounding Tamaki's hunched back, small murmuring only competing with the barely intelligible squeak of his finger tracing the floor. What? What in the name of... what was the meaning of this?
Maniatic laughter boomed like bomb, nearly jumping me from my skin as I released an embarassing shriek. Two of the boys - or, wait? One of the boys? I must really have been separated from my right mind - I was seeing double!
The cloned boys clutched each other around the shoulders, free arms wrapped around their trim stomachs as they cracked up, heaving out laughter from the tips of their identical toes. I had completely forgotten about the others in the room. No then, my vision was serving me perfectly well. These were those freshman twins many of the girls went on about - the Hitachiins. I took deep, steadying breaths, mind and self coming together and remodeling emotions. I had to be rational - these boys were not normal and would need to be dealt with using the utmost caution. They were in their own league entirely.
They were the Ouran High School Host Club.
"Ha ha ha! There aren't many people that could hurt him this much, ne, Kaoru?"
"Aa, Hikaru! Slacking off from work, tono? Could you be losing your touch?"
The jeers sent Tamaki into another wave of anguish, only fueling the twisted twins' fire. I took another involuntary step backwards, wanting nothing more than to flee this horrid place and never set my eye upon it again. I fought to keep the raging emotions from being expressed in my appearance, managing to limit the visage to furrowed brows, tensed limbs and curled hands. It was as I concentrated on this that some four-handed demon slithered it's fingers up the length of my arms, swiftly coming to a rest at my elbow and heaving me forward, deeper into the room. I fumbled on a gasp, ashamed to realize that a whimper had left me as my heels helplessly dug downward in a vain attempt to slow to a halt. I was released into a petrified state at the heart of the chamber, not even moving the slightest as the two pairs of hands left my limbs and molded before me into mirroring forms. The four golden orbs narrowed slyly, gleamed with an unmistakable sin.
"Ne, who is this?" one of them questioned, both poising a long, thin finger to their narrow chin at precisely the same moment.
I felt my hand being grasped softly, prying it tenderly from my fingers. I snapped my head up to the culprit, knowing that the mutated brothers were still in plain sight before me. My, how friendly this group was - as I should have expected. There was no such thing as personal boundaries within this dungeonous chamber. These hosts just popped out of the walls like rodents.
"Komori Mikazuki-Karitei," Kyouya voiced, turning my palm over in his feather-light grip. His finger tips danced across the colored skin, regarding it with eyes hidden behind the glare of his lenses. "Class 2-A, age 17, eldest child of Komori Shigeo and Komori Imma."
I could sense the others' avid following but never bothered to take my gaze off the man examining my hand so carefully. Who did he think he was, touching me without permission?
A sudden sense of gallance filled me, allowing me to take control of the situation and built up my charge once more. I pulled my hand from my classmate's grip, watching his brow raise into his hair line. He looked up at the motion, having been bent over slightly in his previous actions, just enough to deflect the light from his glasses and grant me sight of his eyes. I stepped back, rubbing the offended limb to rid myself of the goose-chills and masking the notion with a leveled tone.
"I should expect as much from you, Ootori-san," I hummed, not allowing myself to cast a glance anywhere but his own mocha orbs. He was the type you had to watch out for - never take your eyes of for the slightest of moments. That was all it would take for him to gain the upper hand. "And I expect of you to know my height and weight as well?"
He smirked at the challenge, immediately responding, "height: approximately one hundred and sixty eight centimeters; weight: fifty -"
I cut him off within a flash, feeling the newly conversant sting on my palm. I pulled my hand from Kyouya's lips just as fast as it had been sent, blinking the horror from my gaze. Two assaults in one day? In a single ten minutes? What were these satanics doing to me?!
The Hitachiin energumens cackled wickedly, grips still tight around the other halfs' shoulder.
"Ah, I like this one, Kaoru!"
"She's quite the spirited one, ne?"
"More like wicked, I'd say."
"Aa, I see your point, Hikaru. A wicked vixen."
"Ee, and brash."
"Violent-"
"...bold-"
"...testy-"
"...hysterical-"
"Q-quiet!" I spewed, nearly slapping my hands over my own jaw not a moment after. Even if in self-defense, my manner was undebateably inexcuseable today. The duplicated faces were congruent, eerily displaying nothing at all. That moment of silence had settled my stomach, until the boy on the right parted his lips.
"...irritable," he resumed relentlessly, his brother following up instantly.
"...ill-mannered..."
I seethed, eyes tingling and nearly on the verge of rageous (yet shamed) tears. If my parents were to see me now - my brother! I felt like a bullied child being harassed in the school's secluded playground corner. Those delinquents! How dare them...
"Hikaru, Kaoru," Kyouya warned lightly, earning all attention. Both twins shrugged, expressions regretless. They hushed, however, Kyouya clearly being one holding the greatest respects in the brotherhood. The bespecled boy sighed, adjusting his lenses.
"Komori-san's father, Shigeo-san, is the current president and CEO of the world's largest photographic and imaging company, Fujifilm Holdings Corporation."
Another epoch of still silence passed. I was only aware of my breathing, slowly shallowing to a state of internal homeostasis. It seemed as if the group shared a collective blink, processing my status. I wondered, unappreciatively, why Kyouya had felt the need to share another's personal information so openly. It was overshadowed with gratitude concerning the silence it had produced, however.
This time it was the twin on the left who smirked first. "Fujifilm, huh? Komori Mikazuki-Karitei, was it? I suppose you're so rich you need two given names, ne?" He and his brother snickered, leering down on me like hawks taunting their prey.
I scowled, gathering my senses. "Karitei is just fine," I murmured coolly, narrowing my eyes towards the duplicated kouhai. They grinned instantly, well-cared for teeth glittering in the lighting.
"Hontou? We can really call you that, hime-sama?"
"Ne, you don't think it's too casual an addressment, hime-sama?"
My lips twitched, stomach whirling in helpless frustration. I was cornered. Utterly and hopelessly cornered. I was powerless to the situation. These two were going to kill me, I knew it. I hated this feeling of inferiority - the fear of not knowing what was coming next and being one step behind. I couldn't plan the next move. I couldn't think straight. They were purely diabolical. It was driving me to insanity. How could the other girls not feel this evil? Or had they all succumbed to it? Was that what turned their brains to mush? They had already been rotted away, taken over by the heinous whims of these people - these parasites. They fed off of the human spirit and used it to sustain their greedy lusts. This place was a nightmare - a lethal trap. I had to get away; I needed to leave! Why had I come in in the first place? I knew what trouble it would cause! Why couldn't I remember?!
"Komori-sempai? Are you alright?"
I flinched, jumping at the sound and snapping my head towards the offender. I flinched a second time at the sight. Dull plum sweater at least 3 sizes too large, wispy frizzed hair as lively as soot, thick retail-looking lenses: a horrid sight that seemed to fit in with this disaster.
Haruhi? Haruhi! That was it!
I leapt forward, startling the poor girl into a yelp as I clawed onto the arm of her sweater, nails digging into and poking directly through the second-hand fabric as I yanked on it forcefully. Haruhi was swept off her feet, stumbling into my side. I latched onto her in that position, anchoring her almost possesively, one hand still attached to her clothing and the other gripping the closest limb and pulling her slightly behind me, out of view from the males. I narrowed my eyes, daring any offenders to come forward. I had realized my mission: my purpose was back. I wouldn't lose this time.
"You two are already acquainted?" Kyouya raised a brow, whether at my sudden fierce turn or the question itself. He opened a black notebook that had been in his grasp, holding it in one arm and scribbling into it with the other. What a predictable habit.
"Yeah. Komori-sempai was assigned to show me around the school today," Haruhi grumbled, voice muffled because of our position. I could feel the sweat drop making it's was down her head on my shoulder, given our proximity. I inwardly squirmed, noting that a vigorous soak in the bath was needed as soon as I returned home. I prayed she didn't have flees, lice, or any other bodily bugs of the sort.
"Ah," Kyouya nodded to her response, marking his page one last time before the diary was snapped shut and briskly taken from our view. It seemed her words had confirmed everything for him, as expected.
"Sugoi! Komori-chan is a true hero, ne!? A beauty of wealth caring and watching after our despised lower person - an inspiring case of mother hen! What a charity, Komori-chan!! How inspiring," Tamaki cooed into the heavens, suddenly directly at Kyouya's side with clasped hands. I startled back, pulling Haruhi with me in turn. I thought he had already been taken care of? Wasn't he slumped in the corner, defeated? My fear -my loss of nerve- it must have rejuvenated and rekindled him. Now I had one more of them to break through...
"Two heroes?" a pre-pubescent voice awed. I cast a glance at Haninozuka Mitsukuni, watching as his sparkling eyes rivaled the sun.
Tamaki clapped his hands together, directing all attention. "As a gift for her selfless actions today, with sacrificing her precious time to lend a hand to this lesser being, I propose that Komori-chan is granted a free, personal visit to the Host Club!" he cheered, tone an echo of the gods themselves. Mitsukuni applauded feverishly, uplifted with his kouhai's suggestion. The twins burst out into another fit of laughter, both Kyouya and Morinozuka Takeshi holding blank faces. I, myself, dead panned, not seeming to find any possible reasoning behind this apparent "gift" the boy was offering. Was this a trick? They wanted me here longer - to break me down.
"So, Komori-chan," Tamaki purred, appearing to my left and almost effortlessly prying my grip off of Haruhi, wrapping his own arm around my shoulder and lifting me from her. "Take your pick. I, The Prince, am obviously not your type. But have no fear, that is why we have our own assortment of unique host to satisfy any preference or need! Now, what will it be? There's the Cool Type, the Little Devil Type, the..."
I tuned him out, transfixed on the demonic grins etched onto the Hitachiin's faces. I swore, just for a fleeting moment, their eyes burned scarlet. I shivered, unnoticed by the raving Tamaki. What an appropriate name - the Little Devils. My gaze flickered behind me, where Haruhi was standing awkwardly a few feet back. She looked fretful and confused, uncomfortably and understandably so. Unconsciously, I uttered her name under my breath, just loud enough to catch the main host's attention and halt his rant. I was dimly aware of him braking off, blinking down at me and following my line of vision behind our backs. I was also aware of his smirkish smile, only a moment before he had rushed from my side and flashed at Haruhi's. Now it was her he dragged forward as I watched in a trance, unable to move.
"So, what type do you fancy? Wild? Loli-shota? Or perhaps..." he gripped her chin, bringing their faces barely a breath apart. "Would you like to try me?"
I dropped my jaw in a silent gasp. Was he so daring to tread into those waters with a student he thought to be a male? The phrase "customer service" popped into my mind.
Her reaction was expected, the same I would have though any decently self-respecting woman to do.
"You misunderstood! I just...I was just looking for somewhere quiet!" she stumbled, stepping backwards frantically without taking her eyes from the advancing villain. "Please, excuse me..."
She threw herself back onto her heels, the movement halted with a dull thump. I couldn't see from this unaccommodating angle but it was clear enough to assume that she had bumped into something, the graceless fool. I squinted, the wavering of a colorful object swinging from side to side between Haruhi's shoulders. She pivoted around, flinging her arms forward just in time to miss the pottery piece as it plummeted to the floor, landing with a high-pitched shriek of breaking glass and exploding like a firework.
As oddly pleasant and fitting as the sound was, I knew this was a far cry from a good sign. With a shock of dread, I knew things were only about to get worse.
(A/N) I'm sorry that basically nothing of importance has happened yet, but I'm really trying to get my OC's characterization straight, first and foremost! I understand that it's annoying, but once things take off, everything will move a lot more swift and smooth. Hang in there ;]
Please review, as always :D