Hello y'awls! I want to thank last chapter's reviewers from the bottom of my heart:

Ravenclaw Alchemist

Quinhwyvar

loved2readandwrite

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a. b. sparkle

Your support is, as always, an inspiration to me. I love you all, thanks for the feedback :) And special thanks to Quin, who has officially agreed to read through all my chapters and has made this one much better with her well-placed criticism and critiquing. You are awesome, thank you!

Eventually I got to sleep, and my dreams, if I had any, were peaceful and Kyoya-free.

I woke the next morning to the irritating buzz of my cell phone, which was going off for the second time in the past twelve hours. I groaned and glanced at my clock, and then threw the blankets over my head, ignoring the noise. Eventually the ringing ceased as the person hung up, only to start again a moment later as they redialed.

"Arg!" I yelled as I flung the blankets off and grabbed the phone; I didn't even bother checking the call display before I opened it and roared, "WHAT IN FUDGE DO YOU WANT? IT'S ONLY SIX-FREAKING-THIRTY!"

Shocked silence responded, before a timid voice said, "Uh… good morning to you too, Rin-san."

"Who are you?"

"It's me, Rin-san. Haruhi."

"Haruhi?" I repeated, momentarily distracted out of my sleepy anger. "How'd you get my number?"

"I asked Kyoya-sempai for it," she responded.

"How'd he get it?"

"I don't know. He knows lots of things he shouldn't. He asked me to call you and make sure you were alright."

"Ah… I see."

There was an awkward pause during which I nearly fell back asleep.

"Soo…" the natural type said, drawing the word out. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I said, more sharply than I'd intended. "There was no need to call, I'm okay."

"Are you?" Haruhi asked, worried, and I balked at her tone.

"Of course. What would make you think otherwise?"

"Ah, nothing," she replied. I could just hear the worry in her voice. "Just… you don't sound alright."

"Well I am," I growled. Then, in a slightly softer tone, "I'm always alright, Haruhi." Always.

"Right, I'm sure you are," Haruhi said in a kind voice that suggested that she did not quite believe me, but at the same time invited no argument.

It's too early in the morning for this.

"Are you coming to school?" Haruhi inquired.

"Did Kyoya tell you to ask that?" I shot back. Haruhi hesitated for a split second, just long enough for me to know that I was right.

"Well… Maybe, but that's not the point."

"I suppose not… alright then; no, I'm not going to school."

"I'll tell the host club not to expect you."

"Okay. Um… thanks, I guess. For checking on me." Only after the words were past my lips did I realise how… normal they sounded. Like something one friend might say to another, instead of what I would normally say to a classmate.

"You're welcome, Rin-san," Haruhi said brightly. "I'll see you soon, I hope you feel better."

"Yeah," I responded. "See you." I flipped the small device shut and plopped it onto my pillow as I lay back. I stared up at the ceiling for a moment, watching the tiny shafts of dawn light filtering through my window and hitting the gold walls, turning them into a beautiful metallic color.

For some reason, the short conversation with Haruhi had felt totally bizarre. Bizarre, but not unpleasant.

I sighed contentedly, and a totally uncharacteristic contentedness spread through me. I'm not sure why I wasn't irritated; usually I was a grouch in the mornings. But that day, as my eyes bored into the top of my room, I had to admit to myself that I was actually happy. Maybe because Haruhi had called. Maybe because it was Kyoya who had asked her to. I wasn't sure.

Darn that host club, I thought, mostly out of habit. I closed my eyes, a soft smile tugging on my lips,and went back to sleep; or at least, I tried. It took me fifteen minutes of lying there with my eyes shut to realise that I wouldn't be getting any more sleep that morning.

I groaned and sat up, cursing Haruhi for the early wake-up call as my hair fell in a messy river around my shoulders. Absently I picked up a strand of red and twirled it between my fingers. The crimson color stood out from the black like a neon sign stands out on a rainy day, and it fell back to its normal straightness when I let go of it.

I got off of the bed and made it out of habit, carefully pulling the grey covers until they hung neatly. Satisfied, I then sauntered over to my closet and looked inside.

"No leather today," I said aloud, glancing at the beams of sunshine filtering through the blinds. "It's not a leather-type day." Surprisingly, finding an outfit that was not entirely comprised of leather was fairly easy; five minutes later I ended up with a pair of navy blue skinny jeans, a black, long-sleeved shirt and a long, button-down black jacket that hung down to just above my knees and tied at the front. To match the style I had found a pair of knee-high boots which were not made of the ordinary leather material; they were black suede, which despite its smoothness was surprisingly strong. The entire outfit was still extremely dark in color; the only exception to black were the navy-blue jeans, most of which were covered by the long coat and high boots. I didn't put the clothes on yet, instead I brought them to the bathroom with me as I walked over to check my leg.

Inside the bathroom, I plopped the pile of clothes on the counter and placed the boots side-by-side on the floor before sitting down on the counter and rolling my pajama pant leg up till my calf was bare. I winced as I observed the cut.

The actual wound was covered in white gauze, running up my leg in a two-inch strip and taped to the skin. It was the flesh around the slice that worried me; it was red and puffy, with tiny swollen veins running through it. I touched it experimentally and yelped at the contact.

Ow.

I undid the tape carefully, peeling the sticky substance away from my sore leg painfully. The knife wound was red and angry-looking, and a tiny trickle of blood dripped from the deepest edge. I ransacked the cupboard and managed to come up with some antiseptic and bandages, with which I treated it. Ten minutes later I was dressed, my leg complaining loudly as I zipped up the close-fitting boot. I stopped as it twinged, and then decided that I would forget the boots for a day. It wasn't like I was going out or anything.

Back in my room, I raided my closet till I happened upon a pair of hardly used flats. The shoes were my size, but they felt tiny without the usual extra material covering the lower third of my legs. I slipped them on and frowned at the light sensation that came with the absence of leather covering the bottom half of my leg. I shrugged it off and limped downstairs in search of breakfast, hungry from missing supper the night before.

"Rin-sama," a maid said when I entered the kitchen. "Would you like something to eat?"

"Yes," I replied, eyeing the half-finished scrambled eggs in the pan on the stove.

"I'll bring it to the dining room," the maid told me, and I nodded before wincing my way out of the kitchen and to the dining room table, where I collapsed on one of the satin-covered seats. I stretched my sore leg out and tucked the other securely underneath it.

A few minutes later, the maid brought out a tray full of steaming eggs, some bacon, and of course my favourite breakfast food, waffles with strawberries. My stomach growled loudly at the sight.

"Thanks," I muttered as she set it down in front of me, prompting a surprised glance. I pretended not to see, and she scurried back to the kitchen to do whatever maids do. Honestly, was I really normally that angry, that I didn't make a regular habit of saying thank you? I brushed off my brief feeling of guilt and dug into my breakfast with indecent gusto.

Five minutes later, I got up from the table and wandered into the living room, already finished eating. What can I say, I was a fast eater – most food only lasted a few minutes once placed on my plate. Dimly I heard the shuffling of dishes as the maid returned to the dining room and collected the breakfast dishes.

I'm not going to go into too much detail about my imprisonment – I mean, recovery time – at home, but suffice to say that by the end of it I missed Ouran. I lazed around, thought about doing homework, hung around and unnerved the staff, and pretty much just waited for my leg to heal so I could get out of the house again.

Tamaki called the next day, wondering how I was doing and if I was coming to school. Basically it was the same conversation I'd had earlier with Haruhi, with the addition of Tamaki's craziness. I hated to admit it, but I was glad he'd called. I don't know what's wrong with me.

With the use of only one leg, I went metaphorically insane from not being able to run or practice martial arts, or to do anything physical. I was used to a rigorous routine – go to school, come home, practice karate, go for a run, practice judo, maybe run again, shower and do my homework. Needless to say, to suddenly be practically invalid was very… taxing, I suppose you could say.

Finally, after wearing down my own and the servant's nerves almost to the breaking point with my continued brooding presence, I was able to return to school. Kyoya texted me in the evening of the second day and told me that I should probably use a crutch for the first bit of being back at school, but as usual I completely ignored him. I was irritated enough with having to take time off; there was no way I was going out in public with a crutch. Nothing ruined a bad-girl reputation like showing an obvious weakness. I texted him back asking him to check his limo for my book bag, but thankfully I had another one I could use in the meantime. I was just thankful that my laptop hadn't been in my bag when I'd lost it.

So, three days after the incident in the alley, I showed up in my black limo at the gates of Ouran Academy, sporting a still-healing slice across my cheekbone, a very sore leg, multiple bruises and no crutches, thank you very much.

I was quite proud of myself when I made it all the way inside and up the red carpeted staircase without so much as flinching. I did my best not to limp, but with pain spiking through my leg at every step, it was difficult. I had patches of discoloration all over my arms, as well as on my ribs, but the most noticeable mark was the cut on my face. It was the most obvious thing in the world that I'd been in a fight. I attracted the usual stares plus some as I walked inside my classroom, and as usual I didn't mind them and sat down at the back, propping my feet up on the desk.

I was back in my normal black outfit, complete with heeled leather boots and a studded belt, but I'd done something new with my hair. Instead of wearing it all down and straight, I had left just the black parts of my hair down and pulled the red chunks back into a bun on the back of my head, so that the two colors were separated. I fiddled with the red bun as the classroom filled up and the bell rang.

Tamaki and Kyoya walked in together a few minutes before the bell, and Tamaki cast me a quick smile as he passed. Kyoya nodded to me coolly, already scribbling something down in his notebook, and I gave a small jerk of my head to acknowledge him. Neither of us smiled, but for some reason I felt happier the moment he stepped into the room. It didn't escape my notice, either, that the Cool Type did not acknowledge anyone else in the room.

"You know, just because you're pretending to be nice doesn't mean they like you," a nasally and slightly familiar voice sneered from behind me. I swivelled in my seat to see Emi, the blonde girl from the host club the week before, and her two cohorts – what were their names? Ayano? Ayaka? Something like that. The three stood close together, with Emi in the center, and old habit forced me to my feet at their aggressive postures. I growled wordlessly and forced Emi back by stepping forward.

I'm really not in the mood for this.

The blonde was tall – only an inch or so shorter than me – but that inch was enough to intimidate her, and I knew it. Rule one of confrontations: never show that you are anything but confident. The two brunettes cast nervous glances at their leader as I got in their faces, clearly wondering if provoking me had been the best idea.

I stopped when my bottomless black eyes were level with Emi's cold emerald.

Honestly, compared to the weapon-wielding criminals in the dojo, little girls weren't very scary.

"Don't," I said simply, adopting a low, feral tone. I could probably make them leave without using the tall-dark-and-scary approach, but I didn't. "You're better off not messing with me. So don't."

My gaze locked with Emi's, before sliding over her to meet briefly with each of the other girls. Their eyes were appraising my appearance, running over the few bruises my jacket left visible and the cut on my face. The disgust I saw in their eyes hurt, even though that kind of emotion was exactly what I'd spent sixteen years training myself to disregard.

Darn it, those hosts are making me soft.

"Your charade doesn't scare us," one of the brunettes stated.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you come out from behind Emi then?" I inquired. It was true; the girl was practically hiding behind the taller, more confident blonde, who was herself making sure to stay a 'safe' distance away.

Said blonde interrupted, apparently unpleased that I was speaking directly to one of her subordinates. "None of us are intimidated by you." Lie. "You don't scare us." Lie. "No one likes you." Truth. "We just wanted to let you know that just because your father is an important businessman, that doesn't mean you can do whatever you want. Our families have some ties as well; you're not in ordinary school anymore."

That got my attention. "Do whatever I want? Emi-san, all I ever wanted was to be left alone."

"Liar!" she snarled. I was seriously considering clouting her at that point. "You want to steal the boys of the host club. But trust me, Rin-manko, they don't like you. You are simply an anomaly, and like all anomalies, once the newness has worn off you'll disappear back into obscurity."

My eyes narrowed infinitesimally at the crude cuss word she paired with my name. I understood the bit about fading into obscurity – in all truthfulness, it would be better than dislike – but I didn't like name-calling.

"Obscurity was all I ever asked for," I growled softly. I think this conversation is past the point of considering violence, I decided. I was just about to strike her – a close-handed blow that probably would have broken her jaw – when sensei entered the room. Normally, that would not have stopped me, or even caused me to hesitate; but things had been very weird recently. And by recently, I mean since visiting the host club.

I abandoned the violent course of action and settled for sending the three bit– I mean students – cold glares, making sure that they knew it was only the teacher's entrance that had saved them from something very unpleasant. My fist uncurled and relaxed as I turned and stalked away from them, hiding the tremors that wanted to run through my form. I didn't look back; I just glided to my seat, making sure to position my chair so that my back was not to them. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the three blots of yellow move away before they exited the classroom.

I looked away and began cussing myself out internally. What was my problem? Why didn't I just hit her? Why was I having trouble acting like the usual me?

If you were really badass and mean, you wouldn't have trouble acting like it.

I squashed that thought the moment it formed. I didn't even want to think about the implications.

"Hey," a voice said from beside. I forced myself not to be happy that he was talking to me, not to let my mouth tilt upwards in the smile that wanted to surface.

"What do you want?" I snapped. Then I winced. Tamaki looked taken aback for a moment, but his smile wasn't long in returning.

"Are you alright?" He inquired, seeming honestly worried. A cold stare was the only response he got. Apparently used to my behavior by now, Tamaki didn't wait too long for a response and asked another question. "Are you planning on visiting the club again today?" He sounded hopeful, and I hated the flare of happiness that rocketed through me at the prospect of going.

That flare of happiness, that brief feeling of gladness, frightened me more than I would ever admit. Before I could think about it I was snapping, "No, I'm not coming back! Ever! I told you I don't do host clubs, so that means I don't!" I halted abruptly, a strange tightness in my throat choking me. "I never asked you to do this, I never asked you to be my friend. I just… no, I'm not coming back. Stop talking to me." By the end my usually sure and even tone was wavering, and there seemed to be something stuck in my throat.

I pushed my chair back and practically fled the room, not caring that the final bell rang just as I was passing through the doorway or that Kyoya's grey eyes were following me with something akin to worry.

I never asked for this.

I stormed down the near-deserted hallway, sending the straggling students racing to their classrooms when they saw me coming. I passed a few teachers, but even they did not attempt to stop me – the glint in my eye was enough to ensure their silence.

I never asked for my safe world to be disrupted.

I was going at a good clip when I rounded a corner and ran straight into someone's chest. I let out a quiet oof of surprise, but that was all the reaction I made. I was about to yell at them, or maybe just curse and walk off, before I realised who it was.

"Mori-sempai?" I said, rubbing my forehead from where it had collided with his collarbone. Mori looked down at me and nodded. I sighed and looked away as I stepped back. Why did I have to run into another member of the host club?

"What's wrong?" It took me a moment to realise that it was Mori who had spoken.

My walls are cracking and I can't stop it.

"Um…. What?" Oh, real intelligent, Rin. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong, why would something be wrong? There's nothing wrong."

Mori just stared at me expectantly, obviously not fooled by my inadequate explanation, and I sighed. I hate observant people. "It's fine, really." Stop staring at me.

I stepped around him and was about to continue walking when Honey rounded the corner as well, obviously having heard our short conversation.

I stopped again and growled. "What is up with you guys? Is it physically impossible to get some space here?" I didn't wait for a reply as I pushed past the smaller student and continued my trek down the hall.

"Rin-chan?" I heard Honey mutter in a hurt and confused tone before I took a sharp turn and was hidden.

I rounded the corner and then burst into a sprint, desperate to escape the sensations flittering around in my chest. I didn't want to feel like that… I didn't want to feel at all. I never asked to be able to feel! My family hurt me so deeply, I shut down my emotions and refused to ever love anyone. But these people… they make it so difficult! I pushed those thoughts aside and just ran, ran from the emotions, the unruly thoughts that always came with the host club.

Soon I exited the school; I didn't even look where I was running, I just ran.

I realised later that I headed into the gardens, but at the time all I knew was that when I stopped, I was surrounded by green. Bushes, grass, flowers and even a few trees, none of which I recognized. I didn't care. I could have been off school property, or at the town park, or anywhere really, for how aware I'd been of where I was going. Vaguely I recalled passing a white peeing statue and came to the conclusion that I must still be inside Ouran's extensive grounds, not that that helped much.

I sniffed and sat down hard, collapsing onto the rough green carpet. I hugged my knees to my chest and just sat there, steadily forcing my emotions back into their little box. How the little box had gotten open I wasn't positive, but it sure wasn't going to happen again.

Slowly but surely the feelings started to recede, allowing me to crush them into a little ball and hide the ball in a tiny dark corner.

My time at Ouran had made me soft. That was the single realization that I came to. The host club, Tamaki and Kyoya in particular, were not good for me. A dry, shuddering noise that might have been a sob escaped my lips, before I once again locked down on all emotions and reactions and forced myself to remain composed. I was becoming soft, and I hated it.

"I will not be weak!" I snarled under my breath. I repeated that phrase once, twice, then again. I will not be weak. I cannot afford to be weak. Vulnerability is not an option. I repeated the single life lesson that my parents unintentionally had taught me, that I had taught myself. The strong survive, the weak do not. I lowered my head as a single spike of pain shot through my chest, but I pushed it away with great effort.

How long I sat there, I do not know. I focused all my discipline, all my training, all my years of practice on crushing every single hint of feeling inside me.

When I felt like something resembling my old self, I stood up. All emotion disappeared off my face – the way it should be – and my body moulded by habit back into its usual tense, combat-ready position. I growled slightly. My name is Rin Amaya, you bastards, and I do not show emotion.

I shook off the remainings of feelings and ignored the brief picture of black hair and glasses that flashed in front of my eyes.

"Time to go," I muttered aloud. "Enough moping, Rin. These people have claws under their fancy clothes; if you keep going like this they'll get the wrong idea."

A streak of crimson hair escaped the bun on the back of my head and fell rebelliously into my eyes. I smirked at the little streak, the bright red a poignant and much-needed reminder of who I was – and who I was supposed to be. I reached back and yanked the rest of the red-dyed hair down, combing out the bobby pins. When the ruby locks hung evenly with the midnight black, I turned back the way I'd come and started walking. The elbow-length hair swished comfortingly around my shoulders, reminiscent of many other, less peaceful times, and I smirked again; I could practically feel my past catching up with me, consuming me. The past three weeks had all gone by without me getting in a fight at a bar once, and that was an uncomfortable stat that would soon have to change. I had altered since starting at Ouran. Now, I would alter again; I would return to the cold, quick-fisted rebel that was the real me.

I smiled – or leered, more like – as I attempted to make my way back to the school.

Now, lots of people would assume that with my recent record, I got lost again. And they would be right.

"I hate this garden," I muttered twenty minutes later. "It's too frickin' big."

"That's interesting, because I quite like this place," an achingly familiar tone said from behind me. I froze, a powerful surge of emotion attempting to sweep through me. I closed my eyes and forced it back into the box.

"Hello, Kyoya-san. What are you doing out here?" my tone was clipped and cool, and void of any and all expression.

"Searching for you," he replied just as coolly. I blanched and the emotion box rattled, before he added, "Tamaki asked me to see if you were alright." The box promptly snapped shut.

Huh, I thought cynically. Figures Tamaki made him.

"Well, you can tell Tamaki that he does not need to check up on me," I growled. "I am perfectly fine. Now if you wouldn't mind, which way it the school?"

Kyoya pointed a slender, pale finger. "That way."

I nodded and stalked past, intentionally bumping shoulders with him on the way by. I didn't stop, look back or thank him.

A few paces later, I realised that he was following. I stopped. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you get back," he responded smoothly, but I could see the light of what looked like concern glittering in his eyes – or, glasses. I snorted and ignored it.

"I am fine. Go away." I continued stalking away, and was seriously frustrated when, fifteen feet later, I turned around again to see that Kyoya had caught up and was walking a few paces behind me.

"What part of 'go away' do you not understand?"

"The part that involves leaving you by yourself in this state."

I paused. "This state?" What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Kyoya shrugged slightly. "You seem different. It is my duty as a Host to ensure that you are alright."

"We're not at the host club anymore," I stated the obvious. "And whether I am alright or not is none of your concern."

"I am afraid I cannot quite agree," Kyoya asserted. "After all, as Tamaki says, 'the happiness and well-being of all host club guests is always a hosts' concern'."

"Does everything come back to Tamaki with you?" I snapped rhetorically. "If you weren't such a clever bastard I'd say you didn't have a mind of your own."

Kyoya stopped walking, and I continued past him, uncaring. Soon I rounded a corner in the maze of bushes, losing the cool type somewhere behind me.

I did my best to not dwell on the brief, near imperceptible flicker of hurt that had crossed Kyoya's features as I walked away from him.

And Rin officially shuts down. The next few chappies are gonna be an emotional roller-coaster, hope you guys are ready :)

Now, I would like to say something about reviews, just briefly. Did you guys know that I have thirty-five alerts to this story, but only four regular reviewers? That means that thirty-one of you aren't reviewing. And to you, I have one thing to say – if you like my story, then please support it. And by that, I mean reviewing, not just favouriting and reading. Thanks!

And, once again, a humungeous, gianourmous thank-you to everyone who has reviewed already, you guys are my favourite people in the whole world. Seriously. Without you this chapter would not have been published; your feedback effectively smashed my writer's block into a million pieces. So THANK YOU!

I have a question for you guys, just as a point of interest to me; how many of you read this story's sequel 'Why Does It Hurt' before I removed it? I want to know because I'm considering changing the ending I have planned, but I need to know if any of you remember what happens in the sequel before I can make any plans. So if you could let me know that would be fantastic :)

Love you guys, and see you next time!

-Rose