REMINDER: I don't own OHSHC. :)


2: Welcome to the Host Club!

MUSIC ROOM #3

Reika stared up at the swinging plague, wondering not for the first time what would await her. The girls had made a huge fuss about the club, squealing on and on about how dreamy all the members were. And then there was Jasmine. "I'd be careful with that one if I were you," she had said as the Art Club spilled into the hallway. "Kyoya was more than reluctant to take part, especially without a contract." It seemed the only reason he had agreed to participate was because of Tamaki, a boy who insisted that the club would make a good impression on the artist - because apparently it was wonderful enough that they didn't have to worry about anyone not liking it - and would therefore gain positive promotion. Free positive promotion.

Reika had already decided that she would paint whatever it is she wanted, positive or negative. Art was about expression, not recognition (although she was learning that not a lot of people thought so).

"Well," breathed Reika, placing a lithe hand on one of the doorknobs, "I've got nothing to lose."

Actually, she had a lot to lose, but that wasn't the point.

Slowly, Reika opened the door.

Cue magical sparkle sound effects. Rose petals fluttered out of the room, and for a moment Reika was somewhat oddly reminded of Rose Zephyr, an oil on wood painting by American artist Kris Lewis. The draft itself carried a floral scent, fitting for the scene. Once all the special effects died down, Reika could see that inside were seven - well, six; she classified the blonde as cute - handsome boys.

"Welcome!"

#o#o#o#

"A new customer!" Tamaki almost gasped.

In the doorway stood a girl, dressed in a classic Ouran Academy dress, pencils and sketchbook in one hand. Red and fringed bangs fell artfully into her face, where violet eyes were surrounded by dark lashes.

"We just love first-timers," continued Tamaki. "So tell me - what kind of guys are you interested in? Is it the Mischievous Type? The Natural? Boy-Lolita? The Strong and Silent Type? Perhaps the Cool Type? Or," he hooked his arm around Reika's waist, pulling her against him and gently brushing her hair back, "I bet you're into a guy like me."

Their faces were inches apart, so that they were breathing the same cramped air. Too close for strangers.

Reika blinked. "I don't have a 'type.'"

Tamaki paled, wearing a blank expression of shock. He was quick to recover, however, releasing Reika and putting one hand on his hip. He brought the other to his forehead, as if he were thinking deeply or contemplating the meaning of life.

"Surely there must be something you prefer," he insisted.

Reika lifted one shoulder in a shrug. She said, "If I like someone, I like someone. If I don't, then I don't."

This was not the answer Tamaki had anticipated. He began rambling on and on, pacing slightly for a few moments before slamming a fist into an open palm. "That's it! A quiz! We'll have her take a quiz!"

"I don't think a quiz will work, Senpai," muttered Haruhi.

Something tugged on Reika's sleeve, and she looked down to see Honey looking up at her expectantly with round eyes. He asked, "Hey, what's that notebook for?"

She smiled, opening her mouth to speak, but Kyoya beat her to it. "She's the artist we've been expecting," he said, adjusting his glasses as he read from his binder. And by 'we' he meant Tamaki and himself. "Her name's Reika Asuna. First year and member of the Ouran Art Club. Her father is the founder of the Asuna Art University, a college for those majoring in the Fine Arts, and her mother is one of the most respected art critics in Japan. She is also," said Kyoya, referring back to Reika, "friends with many who were previously customers and are now not."

"Why didn't you tell me she's the artist we've been expecting?!" Tamaki demanded, teeth razor sharp as he turned on the other male.

"It seemed you two were getting acquainted fine to me," mused Kyoya.

"THAT'S NOT FUNNY!" Small sparks of fire erupted from Tamaki's mouth, but Kyoya didn't even flinch. Reika pondered for a moment on how the hell this guy, with his cool expression and amused smile, still had his eyebrows. A mental image of him with flaming eyebrows rose in her mind, and she was forced to bite back a laugh. She bet he'd still try to act cool, even then.

"Rei-chan!" declared Honey, clinging to Mori's neck. If having Honey hollering in his ear bothered him any, he didn't show it.

"Thanks for saving me an introduction," Reika said uncertainly. Who was that guy with the glasses, anyway?

"So what're you saying? She's out to get us or something?" asked Hikaru, without pause.

"Not likely," said Kyoya. "It seems she befriended them either after or much before they stopped visiting the Host Club, so I doubt she had any kind of involvement."

Reika commented, "You're talking about me like I'm not here."

"She's here to paint us," said Tamaki, ignoring her complaint and sitting gracefully into a conveniently placed chair.

"You're here to paint us, huh?" smirked Hikaru, coming up behind her and leaning on her shoulder (even though she was only about three inches shorter than them, unlike Haruhi).

Kaoru occupied her other side, mirroring his brother and mimicking that devilish tone. "Does that mean you're going to draw us in the nude?"

"That's exactly what it means," joked Reika, a smile tugging at the very edges of her lips.

"That's Hikaru and Kaoru," introduced Tamaki. "And that's Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai. Over there's Kyoya-senpai and Haruhi. And I'm Tamaki," he finished, smiling all the while. "Welcome to the Host Club!"


A/N: I never noticed how nobody in OHSHC speaks twice in a row until I tried to write a fanfic. XD Everybody just blurts out randomly... Anyway, thanks for the reviews! I apologize if I upload too fast or slow. :p