Everybody sat at the table, to eat breakfast. Breakfast was a good sign, in Yuki's point of view. It usually meant that his father would tolerate the group. Who could fight when they had a mouth full of poi? Unfortunately he wouldn't get any from being grounded and all. They were offered a decent breakfast. Not too big not too little. Yuki sat apart from Kyouya, as if to keep the secret agent in constant sight. He didn't trust him one bit. Everybody else might have felt comfort from him, but Yuki knew better than to let Kyouya get any hook into a family topic. As far as Yuki was concerned, the term Shadow King, fit him like a custom made glove. He squinted his eyes, letting him know he was being watched. Kyouya was not welcome in his life, and he would waste no time letting him know that.

Next to Yuki sat Mr. Nakajima. While Yuki glared down Kyouya, Yuki's father rested his gaze on Tamaki. His was only half as intimidating, but Tamaki looked twice as frightened. He was seen prancing around with his youngest child, and probably didn't raise any points with him. The tension had a slight break when the chefs came out with breakfast. It was Portuguese sausage, and eggs, with a side of rice.

"Oh, my favorite." Yuki said as he started to make his plate. The others were a bit skeptical. They weren't use to something like this.

Kaoru looked at the plate with confusion. "This is your favorite breakfast, Yuki?" To them this was foreign breakfast.

Ahmya nodded. "Of course. Mom and dad ate it all the time back when they lived in the ocean." She ripped up a piece of Hawaiian French Toast, and gobbled it down.

Yuki couldn't help but laugh. "What she means is Hawaii. That's where we lived before coming to Japan. My parents are from Japan, and that's where I lived when I was younger... back when I was poor." Yuki wasn't afraid to admit that he had lived out his younger years in poverty, as did plenty of other Hawaiians. Before I could barely afford clothes to go to school.

Honey Senpai looked appauled. "Poor? So you used to struggle? You aren't even Japanese?"

Yuki's mother intervened, with a chuckle. "Oh, don't be silly. We are Japanese, darling. We just weren't born here. Many people in Hawaii speak Japanese." They were certainly of Japanese ethnicity, but as far as background, they lived in the islands. Something that surprised even Kyouya.

"It was hard there. The poorest of the people were the Hawaiians themselves. It breaks my heart just thinking about it. Some people so poor they never left the island they lived on. Not even able to go to another island. It was hard. The minute dad made his first greatest piece of art, and sold it for a lot of money we left as soon as we could. It may seem like a tropical paradise, but don't mistake it for the fancy surface. It has it's problems." Yuki explained.

Hikaru spoke up. "So, you guys speak English when you're home alone?" Yuki nodded with an amused grin. It was his first language after all. Hikaru continued. "I don't know how you manage so many languages."

Ahmya spoke. "It's not so hard. You grow up with it, and it's like nature for us." She said looking up to Mori, and blushing at the man she played harsie with a few minutes ago. When he smiled down at her, she hid her face bashfully.

"Well, I'm glad you're here. If you were still in Hawaii, we never would have met." He looked at what looked like chocolate pudding. A chef sat it down, and he added a spoonful to his plate. "Awesome. I love chocolate pudding!" He took a big bite of it, and his face dropped. "That's not chocolate pudding." He sulked.

Laughter rang from Yuki's mother. "No, it's Poi. It's a desert. It's kind of like our version of pudding. Try it again. It's an acquired taste." Honey took a few more spoons full, and slowly gained a liking.

He eventually took it as delicious. "I think if I try really hard, it almost taste like pudding." He said gobbling it up.

"Speaking of trying really hard..." Mr. Nakajima gestured to Tamaki, as he ate the rice. "I assume you were in our paint room, to make something today?" He was smart enough to know why he would be hanging around their art room. "I expect something good from you." He said sipping his coffee. "I hope that you will show me that you are a serious student in medium, and not just a bored teenage boy that's taking the class to kill time between boyfriend club, and pedigree practice."

Those words hurt Tamaki. Yuki's father obviously thought very little of him. He was much deeper than he thought. He saw him as just some fancy shmancy rich pretty boy. That wasn't what he thought of himself. He could be deep, and show true passion. He just needed the opportunity, and after breakfast, he would show him what he was made of.

After lunch, I was hanging out with the other members, listening to the twins sing on my little sister's karaoke system. They sang some songs you don't really expect from two teenage boys. I couldn't hold in my laughter when I heard them singing "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls. Their English was not top notch, so it was a bit too much for me. I needed oxygen. I couldn't hold in my laughter, and I saw my little sister using our father camcorder to record it.

As I held in my laughter, I noted Kyouya leaning in towards me. I raised an eyebrow. He placed a hand on my shoulder. "I take it, you can do better?" He asked knowing I was most likely better since I spoke English. I gave him a look that stated I was a natural. "I'd be careful if I were you. You want those two on your high score chart?"

Once those words were spoken, I couldn't let these two clones take a spot on my high score board. Once they were done butchering the poor spice girls, I took my spot, taking that microphone. Preserving what dignity it had left. I nodded to my sister. "I didn't wanna have to do this, but Ahmya... it's time to pull out the big guns." She bounced up and down, and picked my signature song. "Watch and learn." I smirked. I cleared my throat. I didn't notice that Kyouya leaned towards Ahmya, and was whispering a little bargain.

"You might've been hurt, babe
That ain't no lie
You've seen them all come and go, oh..
I remember you told me
That it made you believe in
No man, no cry
Maybe that's why

I coud feel their eyes on me as I sang my favorite NSYNC song. I even danced to the retro nineties beat, that was so familiar. Maybe my dancing was what they focused on, but in any case, by the time that song was over, I looked around, and the others clapped. Honey, and Mori even got smitten with it. Kyouya was clapping slowly, but impressed also.

After singing, I felt a sweat work under my hairline, and wiped it away. He laid his notepad down. "With singing, and moves like that, I figured you would be willing to hide such skill. Perhaps you aren't as straight as you claim to be." This made me feel like my blood boiled. "I'm off to check on our little paint bug. See you later, my little twink." I was nobody's twink. Especially not his. That's when I saw it. Kyouya's notebook. Vulnerable, defenseless, unguarded. I couldn't help myself. A smarter host would have given it back, but a little game of keep away was always fun, and in this case informative. In my pocket it went.

They all went into the paint room to see what Tamaki painted. Mr. Nakajima was called in. Tamaki had finished his on the fly painting. It was very gloomy. Purple curtains in the back seemed to hang in an asymmetrical fashion, torn, and tattered. In the center, a vase was filled with dying flowers. They were voided of their rich colors, and now had a dry darkened bloom of petals. They were all shriveled, and sad.

Ahmya called her father inside to see what the student had made. He walked over with his hands in his pokets, ready to see what he was offered to have his opinion changed. He wlked behind the blonde looking at the completed work. "Hmmm... That's... that's something else. It's certainly not something I expected, I'll say that much." The man rubbed the space between his eyebrows. "So... what do you see, when you see this vase?" He said wanting to hear from Tamaki himself.

"I see... pain... exhaustion... " He said trying to read the vase. "The vase used to be full of gorgeous petals. So colorful, and strong green stems, with luscious leaves. The owners were so proud of the flowers, but somebody gave the flowers poison... now it doesn't want to show any color, because it doesn't even accept itself." He said in a gentle tone. He turned to the older man wanting to hear what he had to say.

The rich man looked at Tamaki, and chuckled. He was qite frightening when he did that. Yuki covered his face. He knew what the chuckle meant. "I'm gonna take a wild guess, and assume that your the vase?" He said crossing his arms. "The old, take pity on my pity."

His mouth dropped open, as he felt stabbed in the back. "You just won't give me a break. Fine I get it."

That's when he grabbed the rim of the canvas. "No, no, no. Let me finish. I think I know what happened. You wanted to prove to everybody here what you could do, so you said. "How can I prove myself to Yuki's father?" He let it fall to the ground. "You thought about it. You reached into your soul. You thought past the polishing school, and the caviar, till you hit the truth. Then when you saw the truth, you saw this vase. This sad pathetic vase. Quite breathtaking. The vase is filled with dead flowers. I think the flowers are your ego. For the first time in their life. They weren't fed."

Tamaki was fuming. If they listened they might have heard something similar to a tea pot whistling. "Who do you think you are!?"

"I think I'm telling you what should have been told to you a long time ago. I don't like shallow artists, and if I was as pathetic as you, would stick to your doodles. You aren't ready for my class. You can't paint raw."

At this point Tamaki had heard enough. "YOU WANT RAW!?" At this point he took the paint brush and pierced his canvas. "There's some raw! I wanna show you some truth!"He took two paint bottles squeezing them on the pallet, and he took a thick paint brush and ran it swiftly across the wall, making a big blotch of purple. "THAT NOT ENOUGH?! HER I'LL GIVE YOU A BIT MORE!" He took the pallet, and ran out of the room. When they ran out to the hall he was venting his frustration onto the halls, painting them with slabs of paint, that started running down. By the time they got to the front door, he had painted every reachable wall in his path. "HOW'S THAT FOR RAW? I'M NOT THE PATHETIC PRETTY BOY YOU THINK I AM! IF YOU HAVE TROUBLE COMPREHENDING THAT, THEN YOU CAN FORGET ME! GOODBYE!" He said dipping his hand in the black and leaving a big hand print in the center of his door.

The Hosts stared at the scene, as Yuki couldn't believe what he saw and fainted to the floor.

Kyouya turned to Yuki's father stepping over the unconscious Yuki, and adjusted his glasses. "Allow us to pay for whatever needs to be repainted.

Yuki's father simply looked over to Kyouya, and nodded. "I would appreciate that." He said, shaking his head. "All I can say is that kid is a riot."