Just to say, a lot of the tensions in this fic are gonna have some basis in modern history, especially from the Cold War and a little from WW2. So, basically, character relations are going to have a few strains on them because of the past, and this is a part of the plot. Oh, and I know only a very little about the intricacies of Japanese politics so please, please correct any mistakes I may make (I did double-check what I thought but I don't want to screw up any real-life details)!

Big thank yous to NK4, Black Blood of the Red Rose (and thanks for wishing me luck!), morghan. horner / Morghan. Made. Of. Kandi, Zantetsuken Reverse, The Dorky Emperess of Mushroom and Algebruh for reviewing!

Special thank yous to Hinotori-hime for showing me how to alter chapters (I've left a couple mistakes in there that aren't all that big because every time I checked I seemed to find something new that wanted changing, haha), and IwasawaKitsuneneko for offering to help me with Polish translations. As for the translations, it would really help if you could tell me if you spot anything that sounds weird or awkward or whatever and I can change it, as I don't really know what exactly I want to write before I get to that bit. Thanks again you two!

I'm, Like, a High School Student Now!

Chapter Ten – Like, Newsflash!

Kyouya POV:

It was a good job he and Tamaki were similar sizes as the youngest Ootori honestly couldn't bear to go back home now, what with his father pushing him as he was. Kyouya had always wanted his father's interest but this was...this was something else, something he didn't quite need just now.

Regardless, today would be a good day. Tamaki and he would invite that Feliks person to join the Host Club, thus rendering him under close surveillance, and then Kyouya may even attend the party at the Nekozawa's residence along with the other hosts that evening.

With any luck, he wouldn't be hearing from his father in a while.

Japan/Kiku POV:

"Who's in today?" Japan demanded, causing the secretary to flinch.

"What do you mean, Sir?" The other man answered with heavy-lidded eyes, clearly not taking him seriously. Five foot five and with the appearance of the average twenty-four year old, the nation couldn't blame him; he was even wearing stretchy jeans and an old, scruffy yellow t-shirt.

"Who's working today?" He repeated.

"A great many people, Sir, from me to-"

"This is the Diet building, so I think you know what I mean." The secretary gave him a look as if to say 'riiiiiight', before reaching for his pager.

Japan sighed; if it had to be this way, then so be it.

"You have a computer. My name is Honda – look it up. The kanji is written as-" The secretary did nothing. Finally, "I have clearance."

The man nodded almost sarcastically, tapping a few things into his keyboard.

"Oh." He said simply.

"Oh." Japan agreed with a pained smile. He had clearance alright. The computer, as he knew, stated cleanly: Honda Kiku, Senior, Full Authorisation, followed by a recent photograph (to be permanently deleted upon replacement, of course). Once upon a time, he used to tack the honorific for 'General' on the end of whatever name he was using back then to get the same affect, though that no longer worked so well in a pacifist state.

"Well, S-Sir," The receptionist cleared his throat, "The following members are currently in session..." He rattled off the names of numerous politicians. Japan shook his head.

"Can you send a message for me? There are some things I need to have discussed."

"Certainly, Sir! And who should I leave it to."

The nation thought for a moment – speaker Whatshisname, maybe? – before continuing, "Abe, preferably, though Aso will do also. Tell them to contact me immediately." The receptionist seemed surprised to say the least. No honorifics? Not even when referring to the Prime Minister and his Deputy?! Just who was this man, this 'senior' Honda? "And I think it's safe to presume that this conversation goes no further than them?"

"Y-yes, Sir." There was just something in the younger-looking man's strained expression that told the receptionist that he'd better obey.

"Good," Honda's entire manner changed as he bowed politely, and perhaps a little too deep, "Thank you very much for your time."

Really, he needed to speak with Akihito, his one-hundred-and-twenty-fifth Emperor, but that would be awkward and, besides, Prime Minister Abe would have roughly the same powers – even more, in fact, in this day and age – than the figurehead. Although, Japan doubted Abe would be as...understanding.

After the War, Japan and His Imperial Majesty had had many a long conversation about Japan's future.* They had decided that pacifism was the way forward – indeed, the only way forward.

Yet Japan had just killed a human man. And not just any human, either. It may have been self-defence, in a manner of speaking. It may have been ordered. But he still didn't want to...had never wanted to...

Obviously.

But, then, that wasn't why he needed to speak to a Boss-like authority, was it? Because, no matter how important Yoshio was to him, he wasn't massively important in the bigger picture. Now, the Ootori name – that was important.

Poland/Feliks POV:

Feliks hurried on to school, slice of toast in his mouth, having overslept again. In his mind theatre, he looked like a shoujo manga protagonist, hair screaming photogenically behind him, eyes sparkling like fresh morning dew; in reality, he still had sleep in his eyes and his hair was whipping about his head, struggling desperately to choke him. But that was irrelevant.

He arrived at the door to his homeroom mere seconds after the bell sounded, wheezing and regretting the flying breakfast.

However, just as soon as he'd arrived, Feliks noticed that something was askew.

No-one was seated, instead forming a tightly wound ring around one of the desks near the back. In fact, wasn't that...Haruhi's desk? From within the circle, Feliks could recognise a single blonde head.

Then, the blonde head noticed him.

"Feliks – greetings!" The...Host-guy, was it?...cast his arms out wide, as if to underscore his peculiar welcome. "We were beginning to think you'd never arrive." He nodded to a slender, dark-haired boy beside him, indicating that he was the 'we' the blonde was referring to, and that he was not in fact using the royal 'we' (he seemed the type) instead. The other boy smiled a thoroughly untrustworthy smile, though no no-one else seemed to see it as such.

"U-uh, l-l-like, what?" Feliks took an involuntary step back, reaching out with both hands to steady himself on the doorframe.

"Oh, no, don't misunderstand us, please," The boy held a hand out tentatively as the sea of students parted around him, "We merely had a proposition to ask you."

"Which we should probably save until later?" The dark-haired boy prompted, eyeing the clock above the teacher's desk warily.

"Ah, yes," The blonde agreed, "Come to Music Room Three during lunch. We'll talk more then." Both boys then brushed past Feliks, gracefully of course, as they exited the room. All around the disguised nation, school children cooed and giggled.

Feliks merely had one question.

"...Um, Haruhi?"

With a tranquil smile, "I know, but they don't mean to be such a bother."

"No, no, it's just...who were those guys, again?"

The room stood in awe.

They were the 'Hosts', or something?

It wasn't long until the homeroom teacher arrived and the school day began in truth.

As each bored second ticked by, Feliks found himself wondering just what those two boys – his 'senpais', Tamaki and Kyouya (yes, that last one was the kid who'd just had all the sick days), Haruhi had told him – had wanted to talk with him about.

Eventually, the lunch bell rang and, curious as ever he was, Feliks hurried over to the music room he now remembered Renge taking him to on his first day. How he'd managed to forget in the first place he didn't know, but it wasn't as if he'd had nothing else to think about, now was it?

Why was he even in a Japanese high school, anyway?

Regardless, as the lunch bell chimed, Feliks made his way up the several grand staircases before finally arriving, pushing open the peachy coloured doors to the music room (with great ceremony), only to be greeted by a familiar showering of sakura petals and the pungent mist of teenage hormones. Overdoing it much? Maybe.

This time, however, Poland didn't feel so afraid. Haruhi was here, Renge was probably near, and Liet was only a phone call away. In the scope of things, this was nothing. He could do this.

"Ah, Feliks!" The blonde, Tamaki, waved him over. To the pseudo-France's right, the darker-haired boy, Kyouya, snapped a slim black book shut and turned his attentions to Feliks.

"L-like, hi?"

Kyouya gave a subtle look that said he wanted to kill Feliks slowly. Apparently, the boy didn't deal well with timid people.

"We'll make this short," Cloying smile back in place, "We would like you to join the Host Club."

Eh?

A voice spoke up behind the nation, causing him to flinch, "Wait, what's going on here?" It was Haruhi, thank God.

"Oh, nothing, nothing!" Tamaki attempted to soothe. "We were just going to ask this lovely young maid...gent...person to join our little club." He went on to list the benefits of Feliks doing so, Haruhi interrupting sensibly every now and then. Feliks was just preparing himself to turn around and go eat lunch somewhere else when something Tamaki said caught his attention.

"Wait, wait, say that again?"

The taller blonde blinked, "I said, you'll of course earn a little money for your work here..."

"I'm, like, so in!"

A job, seriously?! With this he'd be able to treat Liet to a night out or something for sure.

"So, uh, what do you guys actually...do here again?"

Nekozawa Residence

It was too early yet for the temporary employees to have arrived, but the usual cleaning staff were out in full force.

Nekozawa Arata paced the halls, waiting with restless fervour for the front door to ring.

Should he answer it himself? Should he sit in his study and wait for one of the maids to escort his guest inside? Should he speak formally when the guest did appear, or as if they were old friends? Should he be honoured by this visit, pleased that the Nekozawa name was still a known one? Or should he be very, very scared by it?

Before he had managed to compose himself, the door bell screamed and the once somewhat stoic patriarch found himself taking the stairs down two at a time. Beyond the frosted window of the door, a great bulk of a shadow loomed.

"Mr. Russia." Arata greeted, easing the door open with all the control he could muster. He'd never seen the man himself – only ever talked to him a handful of times over the phone - but rumours were that his grandfather had known him well.

What sort of neat, calculating creature could a personified country actually be? The questions hummed unpleasantly in his skull.

Then he saw him.

"Please, call me Ivan, da? We're friends after all, aren't we?"

The hulking mass behind the door was tall, yes, but its face wasn't tight jawed or restrained, but rounded, smiling even. Its eyes were closed, hiding their colour behind thick blonde lashes. The sandy hair atop the creature's head looked soft and downy.

"Friends? Well, I suppose we are, Ivan." Nerves leant the name too much emphasis, twisting it into something odd. "Come in come in."

Arata gestured at a sturdy antique hat stand so as for Russia to take his coat and scarf off and leave it by the door. The guest merely gave the stand a sidewards look before promptly ignoring it. The coat and scarf, it seemed, were staying.

"Well, uh...shall we head to my study?" Russia followed as Arata began to lead the way up the stairs. "See that portrait there?" He pointed to a large, exquisitely-backed painting above the landing, "That's my son and successor. I also have a daughter, though she's quite young so we've yet to have her sit for a portrait. Children are children, you know?"

"Hm, not really..."

"Oh, well, I simply meant it's hard to get very young ones to sit still for an artist." Arata didn't look back at Russia as he spoke. Was that especially rude of him? "Either way, I'll introduce them both to you tonight – I understand you need to leave soon, but I am to expect you back for the party? I had hoped to introduce you to my wife but she had other business to attend to. She's been gone for two months now, though she calls me every night at eight. She's in Poland now, I believe. Warsaw. Did you know-?"

"Arata-chan?" Russia seldom spoke Japanese, but the honorifics were fun.

"...Yes?"

"You talk too much. Can we walk quietly, da?"

"...Da..."

Host Club POV:

Feliks, although dressed like a woman, proved to be instantly popular. Kyouya, to give him credit, hid the yen signs which had appeared in his eyes rather well. Besides, Feliks wasn't here to be an actual Host, now was he?

This was an investigation.

"So," Haruhi caught Feliks by the tea station, "Have they coerced you into going to the party tonight?"

"Party?" For all his hesitations, Feliks was no wallflower.

"Really? Sorry, guess I'm the one coercing, huh?" She began pouring the reddish liquid from the teapot equally into three cups. "It's this party at Nekozawa-sempai's place. Do you know him?"

The Pole shook his head.

"Anyway, it's some formal event that the Host Club got an official invitation to. I think Hikaru and Kaoru had suits made up for us or something, but you're new here, so..."

Hika-what and Who-ru? Damnit, he really had to start picking up names better!

"Well, like, it does sound kinda fun, maybe? I dunno." Looking down at the silver tray in his own hands, "I'd better take these over."

"Oh, of course. Me too."

Hikaru and Kaoru, as it turned out, were the twins who may or may not be an item. It also turned out that they had had an extra, Feliks-sized suit made up for tonight's soiree. How and why, the blonde didn't know, but they certainly didn't seem happy about it.

The Hosts, it seemed, had taken it as a given that Feliks would both be joining their club and going with them tonight. Maybe they weren't used to being denied.

"Hey, Fe-chan?" The smallest host tugged on Felik's skirt as lunch time drew to a close. "We're meeting here tonight after school for more hosting, then getting ready to head out. That OK with you?" His voice was positively saccharine and he carried a floppy pink rabbit in his arms.

"Yeah, sure. I'll call Liet – my, like, roommate, I mean." It looked liked Feliks would be pretty busy after school most days from then on, huh? And, wait, didn't Liet also say something about him being busy on Friday night?

Hani - the small Host - offered to lend Feliks a phone if he didn't have one on him, but he refused, instead taking his own one out and calling Liet. The line was engaged, so he left a totally-not-too-sassy message on voice mail.

The crowds were just beginning to thin in Music Room Three when a boy Feliks didn't know hurtled through the doors. They didn't get that many male customers here, but that wasn't what was odd about this.

"Ootori," He panted, doubled over as if he'd been sprinting a while, "Ootori, you've heard, haven't you?"

"Hm?" Kyouya's glasses flashed as he looked up. Everyone else looked up with him.

...

Suddenly, something clicked inside Felik's brain. 'Ootori'. This was Ootori? There was no-one else in the school with that name, right? Making Kyouya the youngest son. Making him the catalyst.

That idiot!

Didn't he know what kind of fire he was playing with?!

He was the Ootori son?!

The unknown boy continued speaking, regaining his posture along with a little bit of oxygen, "There's a flood of reporters outside. Apparently they heard someone with your group's name goes here, or something. Either way, the teachers are freaking out! They sent me up here to get you... What's going on?"

For a split second, the youngest Ootori menace's cool facade dropped, stripping him back to a confused high school student and nothing more.

"Reporters?" He echoed, tone heavy with disbelief.

The doors thundered apart once again.

"Ootori, you need to get home now!" It was another boy, this one more on edge than the last. He darted over to where Kyouya stood, looking more irritated at having his family name broadcast like this than anything else.

"What on Earth are you two on about?" His teeth were gritted as he spoke, though due to the silence which weighed on the room everyone heard him clearly.

"Just...just check the news." The second boy said, glancing over his shoulder as if suddenly aware of his audience.

With unhurried control, Kyouya took out his phone and tapped open the news app, Tamaki peeking over his shoulder. After discovering the boy's true identity, Poland got his own phone out and did the same, scrolling through the most recent headlines before he found it; what he read there almost made him lose his breath. Though, this was not because of the grisly details outlined within, but because he could take a good guess as to the culprit. And it was who the reporters said it was.

OOTORI GROUP CHIEF EXECUTIVE AND CEO SUICIDE

The CEO of medical conglomerate the Ootori Group has been found dead this morning after his suspected suicide. The time of death is estimated to be late afternoon to early evening on Thursday. The cause of death was a shot to the head from a Tokarev TT-33 which was found by his side. There were no other fingerprints present on the Soviet era pistol, nor any sign of a struggle in the main Ootori residence. Ootori Yoshio, it should be noted, was not in possession of a gun license.

The Ootori Group was going through a stage of financial success and mass growth, making the motive for his suicide less clear cut. Family issues are suspected, with the CEO yet to name his Group's successor. The business is currently being run by an elder group member and non-blood relation who is likely to continue running the business in stewardship until such a time when a true successor can be named.

Aside from a few staff members, Ootori was home alone. The staff members themselves claim to have seen nor heard nothing suspicious. The gun itself was reported to have had a suppressor fitted, thus muffling the sound of the shot.

The death is not being treated as suspicious.

There was more but the kanji was difficult and Poland was unable to read it.

Sending a tentative glance Kyouya's way, Feliks watched as his face turned white and blotchy. He suddenly looked as old as Poland felt.

Fingers hovering over the screen of his mobile, Feliks began to type out a message to a now oh so familiar number.

Seen the news. What's going on?

Somewhere in Tokyo, Japan's phone beeped.

*The Emperor Akihito is known for having given speeches to many of the countries Japan occupied over the War period, including an official expression of remorse to China. Up until recently, Japan was officially a pacifist state (Article 9 of the constitution), which is a pretty awesome thing to be, although they were kinda forced into it post-WW2, which is not so awesome. Prime Minister Abe, however, is one of the politician's who tried to change this, by lifting the ban on overseas military involvement and so forth; this received much opposition within Japan, though other world powers didn't pay this rearmament much mind.

Next chapter will be up sometime this month or early the next. My exams are done now so after results day and prom I'll be totally free all summer. Basically, more updates coming soon!

XD