Neverending blue. That's what it was like crossing the ocean. The sky is blue. The water is blue. Not a cloud in the sky. Nothing that could possibly slow this journey across high waters. Cloudless. I wished life was cloudless.

I turned from the window and then shut the cover, so that I would stop searching for land. There was still two hours until the plane landed, and I had already been flying for nine. The flight attendants paid special attention to me, and kept interrupting me to see if everything was alright. I was a minor on an eleven hour plane ride. However, the interruptions only made the flight last longer. Mark Twain and Pixar were the only things that kept me alive on this trip.

I looked back down at the book. 'okay, page one' I said to myself.

I finished the book when the wheels hit the runway. "東京へようこそ" A voice began on the loudspeaker. I couldn't comprehend what he was saying, so I tuned it out until I heard English. "Welcome to Tokyo. There are many sights to see here in this beautiful city. This time of year, we have lots of ski resorts up north that you can check out! Other activities can be found on the brochure you received upon landing. Have a nice day!"

I got off the plane and searched for my name on one of the cards, but it wasn't there. I sat down.

"Brigette Johnson?" a high voice asked. I looked up. "Ah, yes! Hello, I am Renge Houshakuji. I will escort you to the school, and also give you a privately exclusive tour of Ouran Academy! I will also give you a free, VIP pass to see the Host Club backstage, when they are not working!" Her voice dropped and rose in pitch at a quick pace. She also squealed a lot. My first impression of her was not a good one.

She helped me with my one bag and I carried my carry-on. "So why did you transfer all the way from America to Ouran Academy?"

I had already prepared my list of lies if questions were asked. The answer came smoothly from my lips. "My father wanted to introduce me to new cultures from around the world, and he thought Ouran Academy would be the best place to do this."

"Oh, how tragic! Whisked away from the only home you knew to someplace completely unfamiliar. You must be devastated!"

"Not really." I said, brushing her off.

"Of course it must have been! I don't believe you!"

"Who did you say you were again?"

"Renge Houshakuji, manager of the Ouran High School Host Club!"

"That's nice." I dropped my bags in the trunk and the chauffeur pulled onto the freeway. I looked at the city as it flashed past, with its many bright flashing lights. It was just like I had always pictured Tokyo.

"Not just nice! The Host Club is an amazing place where beautiful men entertain beautiful women."

I choked. "Pardon?"

"Where men compliment women in every way that a woman wants to be complimented."

Japan is weird, was my first thought. But instead, I said, "And this is a club?" She nodded. "Sounds… Interesting."

"You should swing by after school. First visit's always free and we'll even throw in a free magazine." He shoved the glossy papered book into my hands where blonde boy smiled at me from the cover.

I slipped the book into my bag without another glance "You'll love it here. We've got a private garden, great food in the cafeteria, beautiful campus. And I hear you're staying in the unused master bedroom on the top floor. Ouran academy is the most beautiful school in all of Japan!"

"I'll take your word for it."

She was unhindered by my lack of enthusiasm. "I will give you a personal tour myself!"

"Do you know a student by the name of Kyoya Oturi?" I interrupted, changing the subject.

"Not you too! Trust me, I was engaged to that jerk for a while and he was the worst! Take my word for it. That boy's trouble."

"No, it's not like that! It's just… family ties." I tried to come up with a valid explanation. "My…father… needs some information from his father. I'm the messenger."

She nodded, and was solemn for a moment. "Hey, you're mom died two days ago, right?"

My eyes snapped to hers. "Yeah? What about it?" I said, trying to stay calm.

"I'm so sorry. That's got to be awful."

I pursed my lips. "Yeah. It is."

Her eyes suddenly focused past me, conversation forgotten. She smiled brightly. "Here we are. The wonderful school of Ouran Academy."

I turned to where she had pointed. The school loomed before, tall and strong, but still haunting. My father proposed to Mom as soon as the press found out that he had a daughter. Mom and I both knew there was no love involved, but we were on the brink of poverty, and she thought I could make it big with the studio time I would get if the owner was my legal father. She did it for me, and now she's gone. She probably would still be here if she hadn't married him. But I had only been with him for four years. I grew up in small schools for the majority of my life. As I looked at Ouran, I had to wonder how big the classrooms were, and how many rooms were actually in the building. I was almost in awe, but to me, it still looked like just a giant prison.

"What do think?" Renge asked.

"Just how I pictured it." I said sarcastically, but she didn't catch it. I was starting to think she heard every other word I said.

Once we got to the top floor, floor six, she dropped my bags with a big sigh. "Man, what do you carry in there!"

"My entire life." I murmured, turning my face away.

"Just leave your bags up here. No one comes up to the sixth floor anyway so it should be fine. Plus, we don't have any kleptos at this school. No one would dare risk their spot at head of the family business."

She started at the first floor. "Here is the main hall where students gather during recess and breaks between classes, this is the dining hall, for food and socializing. Right here we have the English language class, for the few students who never learned. By the way, can you speak Japanese."

"I leaned Spanish. LA is right next to Mexico."

"Well, lucky for you, most of the students are fluent in both English and Japanese at this school, as well as French, Russian, and even Latin.

"Neat." I said, and I was honestly impressed. I can barely speak Spanish at all. All I can do is basic conversation, and that's only if the conversation is spoken incredibly slowly. To think all of these students are already fluent. They must have high expectations.

"As you can see, we wear uniforms at this school. I'm sure you have one waiting for you in your room. And here is the student council room." She knocked on the partially opened the door, and then opened it completely. I pursed my lips as she pulled me in behind her.

"Hello, everyone! Sorry to interrupt but I wanted to introduce you to the newest member of your class, Brigette Johnson!" She squealed.

A boy in dark hair and glasses stood up and approached me. He extended his hand and bowed to me. I stared at him a moment, then moved to shake his hand. I pulled it away though, when he raised it to his lips, quickly wiping it on my jeans.

"Hello, there." I took a small step back.

My rejection didn't hinder him in the slightest. He pushed up his glasses and looked at me unnervingly. "Hello. My name is Kyoya Otori. And may I say I've found that your voice caresses the air in the gentlest way." The girls sitting in the seats behind him sighed dramatically, leaning closer with every word.

"Uh… thanks…" I answered, not sure what to say.

Renge quickly grabbed my arm. "Yeah, yeah. Come on Brigette, I need to show you the rest of the school. There's still loads to see: The private garden, the courtyard, the gym, the—,"

I snapped my hand back and turned back to the boy. "Did you say your name was Kyoya Otori?"

"Yes, I did. Why do you ask?"

"As in Otori Smoke?"

His eyebrows furrowed down in confusion. "Yes…"

I smiled sweetly. "Do you mind giving me a tour of the school. I'm sure you know it better than she does."

"But—I'm giving her a tour of the school! That's not fair!"

He bowed his head. "Of course. I'd be honored." He draped an arm over my shoulder, which made me tense, but I didn't step away until the screaming Renge was out of sight.

He guided me through the ground floor and then out into the courtyard. There was no one there. I grabbed his arm and he stopped mid-sentence.

I bit my nail for a moment.

"Yes?"

"I—So your parents run Otori Smoke, right?"

"As well as a private police force of one hundred men and hospitals all over Asia. Why do you ask?

He looked at me oddly. I put my hands in the air. "No—It's not what you're thinking. I don't want a cigar!"

"I did not immediately assume that you wanted a cigar."

"You gave me a weird look…"

"I was merely wondering why a beautiful and refined young lady such as yourself would ask about my family's cigar company," He responded dramatically.

"Uh…Right…" I pulled the Ziploc bagged cigar out of my purse. "My… father was asking for some information on this cigar. He bought it online, and wanted to know more about it…"

"That's weird. We only sell directly to the buyer, no middle man, and I know our cigar company is strictly Japanese. We make no international sales with this specific brand."

"Oh… No, he got it from a friend, but now he's running into immigration trouble, so he needs to know the license number of the buyer, and he can't get a hold of his friend… so do you think you can get it for me. I'll deliver the information to him."

He pulled out a thinkpad and began tapping the keyboard rapidly… I think I found the person you're looking for… What was your father's friend's name again?"

"He… didn't tell me?"

He met my eyes and pushed up his glasses. "Your father didn't tell you his name?"

"No… He didn't think it was necessary…"

He sighed. "I am truly sorry, but clientel is strictly private. But if it is truly necessary, you can take the issue to my father, the head of the Otori business."

"But isn't it right there on the screen, just let me look at it." I reached for the thinkpad in his hand. He dropped it smoothly back into his bag before my hand closed around it. "You'll have to take this up with my father.

"But…" I became desperate. "Well… The real reason my father is so attached to the cigar is because…" I quickly lied, making it up as I went along. "It was a gift to him from my mom… and not that she's gone… It's the last thing he got from her… It's important to him." By the end, I was a little proud of the lie.

"I'm sorry to hear about that, but client information is strictly private. You'll have to take this up with my father."

"Oh, come on—," I began to beg.

"I am truly sorry."

I glowered at him, then smiled fakely. "Thank you for the tour." I stormed past him.

Well, that was no help, I thought. Time to get the intel by force…