The Maxims of the Rich

Ten lessons and rules one should know about Ouran Academy...

A/N: this story would get boring if I wrote about just the club characters! Well technically Renge is part of the club, but she's not a host or a main character. This was a challenge, writing for a character I don't particularly like. Yay for early posts ^^

All characters © Hatori Bisco

Lesson 5: Everyone at Ouran has their assets--even the Otakus.

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It was with less enthusiasm than usual that Houshakuji Renge uttered a "Good afternoon, everyone!" as she entered the third music room of Ouran High. This was in part due to the weather—it was late November, the skies were dark, and cold season had officially arrived. The other cause for her uncharacteristically crestfallen mood today was simply that…Renge felt utterly fed-up with the Host Club.

Wait, let's backtrack; perhaps that was somewhat of a malapropism. Renge was not tired of the Host Club, (which was running quite well, actually. The influx of customers was uncannily high this month) per say, but the Host Club's boys.

Renge had hoped that Japan's elite would befriend her more easily than the ones of France. She would never admit it aloud, but it shamed her that at almost sixteen years old she had never once had a true friend. All of the girls her age felt repelled at her unhealthy obsession with dating sims, manga, and anime. They couldn't understand what Renge saw in that kind of stuff, but they dared not make fun of her for fear that her father would nullify all of their familys' business industries. That was alright, for a while. Renge would just spend all of her time playing sims; they were the only friends she needed, even if they weren't actually real.

But here at Ouran High she was finally in the real world, amongst real people. They were so much different than her sims! Renge was fascinated, like a terrier pup laying eyes on a bone for the first time, by her peers. Unlike her sims, their reactions could not be predicted or simulated. She never knew what they would do, despite her ability to see their characters clearly. And, it was because of this that made Houshakuji Renge want to befriend these people more and more.

After declaring herself to be the Host Club's female manager, the otaku found that being accepted was no easy feat. One did not simply make friends in the snap of a finger. Renge tried to fit in, she really did. Like in France, the high-schoolers here could not understand her otaku ways. And, when she could get close to no one, she only tried harder.

Now, to the Host Club boys. Renge knew that they didn't particularly like her. She knew that her high-pitched squeal of a voice and her hyperactive and bossy mien annoyed them to no end. And that fiasco when she had first arrived with the film…Renge shuddered just remembering what a humiliating opprobrium her behavior had been during that incident.

They didn't hate her, though. On occasion they would compliment her on her character-enhancing talents and enthusiastic dedication to the club's weal. But even so, Renge couldn't help but feel despondent after every meeting. Her attention-loving demeanor failed to be satiated, and she found that they were too engrossed in their little world to pay much notice to her at all. She always used to comment on how their personalities were "not good enough," but lately, she had begun to wonder who the one who really needed the improvement was.

Those Hitachiin twins were the worst. They were cute, but their looks insidiously contradicted their mischevious mien. Even though she was strong-willed, she couldn't help but feel her pride take a blow when they tactlessly made fun of her on multiple occasions. "Get lost, Otaku," was their favorite phrase. Athough spoken with perfunctory annoyance, it made her feel sad all the same.

Tamaki, despite his claims to "please women," always regarded her with a false courtesy, as if being polite to her was just a propriety. He only really talked to her when she made a mistake, scolding her, in French, with a tone colored in polite disapproval.

Honey-kun always seemed very wary of her, as though she was some frenetic gorgon with a head of writhing snakes ready to devour him alive. His cousin was wordless, but seemed to act even more overprotective of Honey whenever she was around.

Renge always felt the most depressed around Haruhi-kun. She had taken a liking to the newest host, and found his oddly feminine looks extremely appealing. Yet, Haruhi-kun didn't seem to return her feelings in the slightest.

And Kyouya-sama… even though he complimented her every once in a while, she knew that she would never win his acceptance despite the deals their families held. She had loved him with all of her heart at one point, and would have easily sacrificed everything for him. But, Kyouya had given Renge her first taste of real human nature, showing her the hard way that people were not always as she expected them to be.

So it was with a look of surprise that her gaze fell on the only figure in the music room. He was casually tilted back on a chair with his eyes closed, the screen of his laptop pulsing with a soothing white glow. His head lolled back, causing dark bangs to fall away from his face and his glasses were still resting on the bridge of his sharp nose.

Her feelings for him had not been completely effaced, and Renge felt her heart stutter wildly as she saw him sitting there. She stared for a moment, realized that he was asleep, and breezed past him, smiling to herself and suppressing a squeal that threatened to burst forth.

As she walked by, the otaku realized that Kyouya-sama, for it was he, looked a little too pale. Walking on the balls of her feet as not to wake him, she backtracked and laid light brown eyes on his face once more. Renge noted with surprise that there were hectic red blotches on his cheeks, a thin sheen of sweat covered her prince's face…and he was wheezing slightly.

It did not take a rocket scientist to tell that something was amiss. Renge hissed in a little breath between her teeth as she felt Kyouya-sama's forehead. It was on fire.

The French girl threw a glance behind her to see if anyone was around to help, but of course there was no one here yet. With nimble and cautious fingers, her motherly instincts took over as she gently loosened Kyouya's necktie so that his breathing would come easier. With even more vigilance she slipped a hand into the pocket of his sky-blue Ouran jacket, finding what she desired. The hand, as delicately as a trained surgeon's, extracted the tiny cell phone.

Renge quickly exited the third music room and headed for the girl's lavatory, thumb brushing through Kyouya's contact list on the telephone until preferred name came up.

"Hello, um, is this Tachibana-san?" Renge chirped worriedly as a man answered formally on the other line. She cradled the phone in between her ear and her shoulder as she pushed open the door to the lavatory, listening to him speak.

"No, I have his phone right now, this is Houshakuji Renge. Can you come to the school right away?" she asked. "Kyouya-sama's quite ill!" And with that Renge snapped the cell phone shut, feeling rather accomplished. She grabbed a fuzzy towel that hung on a rack of shiny brass in the bathroom and soaked it with ice-cold water. With the phone stuffed into the pocket of her dress she jogged with the dripping towel back to the third music room. Once there, Renge placed the towel over Kyouya's slick forehead and returned his phone. She took a seat by her beloved megane after she had finished and waited somewhat quietly for someone to arrive.

The remaining members of the Host Club appeared not too long before Kyouya's bodyguards did. They filed in, and Renge watched their faces contort into confused expressions and their eyes widen as they saw who was seated by her.

"Kyouya!" Tamaki rushed over, unconsciously taking charge as the others followed. "What happened?" he gazed at their self-proclaimed manager, blue eyes ardent.

Renge fiddled with her long, honey tresses and began, "Well, I came in and—"

"—Kyouya-sama!" Tachibana and the other two black-clad bodyguards had arrived, bursting in and curtailing the French girl before she could finish.

"Were you the one that called?" one of the men asked Renge succinctly as they approached their master.

Renge nodded, uncharacteristically timid before these daunting men. "I—I came in, and Kyouya-sama was lying here looking like this, and he was having a little trouble breathing so I loosened his tie and put a towel on his head…" she trailed off, unable to finish her run-on sentence.

Tachibana nodded once. "Thank you, miss. We will take Kyouya-sama home now. Call for the family doctor," he added to the man on his left, who whipped out a cell phone and began dialing with lightning speed. The other two hoisted the unconscious Kyouya up and, like a life-sized rag doll, carried him out of the room.

The other hosts stared with troubled expressions after them. "I wonder if Kyou-chan will be alright," Honey-senpai thought aloud. "He never gets sick…"

Tamaki flicked a lock of light hair out of his face and regarded Renge with gracious eyes and a determined mouth.

"Renge-chan, I believe I owe you thanks," he said softly, in Japanese. "You were there for Kyouya when we were not. For that I am in your debt." The Host King gave a little bow.

"Yeah, that was really nice of you, Renge," the twins said in perfect unison from behind. Renge's eyes widened at the use of her name as opposed to the usual "otaku."

Honey-senpai wrapped his small arms around her middle then and squeezed. "Thank you for helping Kyou-chan," he grinned. Mori made a little sound of agreement. "Would Ren-chan like to eat cake with me today?"

"T-that would actually be nice, Honey-kun," Renge said quietly, with a little surprised smile playing on her lips. All thoughts of moe were temporarily forgotten.

With warm brown eyes, Haruhi-kun leaned in. "Renge has a nice personality," he exclaimed. "I'm sure Kyouya-senpai will be appreciative of that when he gets better." Renge blushed furiously.

"So you guys…don't hate me?"

At this Tamaki threw his head back and let out a bright peal of laughter. The others looked puzzled before laughing themselves.

"Of course not, Renge-chan!" the Host King said, wiping his eyes and snorting. "Even though your ways of doing things are a bit…over the top at times, we've always known that you are a kind person."

Hikaru and Kaoru nodded. "We like people who are unique," they said.

Renge blushed an even more florid shade and went to go sit on a velvet rose settee. "Thank you, everyone," she said as Honey-kun handed her a plate of chocolate cake and a silver fork.

So the day took a turn for the better, Renge thought as she actually sat down with the Host Club that November afternoon. A week later Kyouya-sama returned, sniffling away the last vestiges of his cold, and thanked her genuinely. Renge noticed that his smile was so much nicer when it was a real one.

Maybe she could make friends here after all.