"What about this one?" I asked, holding up yet another napkin. Minako hands paused in my hair as she examined the bit of fabric I was displaying.
"Too lacy," she determined and returned to braiding. I held up a different scrap and she paused again before declaring, "Too plain," and returning to the intricate knots she was tying into my hair. Minako's mother had left us with the project of deciding on napkins for the small—though her definition of the word was much different from mine—banquet that was planned for after the wedding. Minako was more interested in deciding how my hair should be done on the special day. I held up a medium between lacy and plain and she hardly hesitated before saying, "Too ruffled." I sighed. It had taken more than two hours to decide on the exact shade of lilac for the napkins and for the past hour, we had been picking through possible textures. After we choose that, Mrs. Oshiro still wanted us to look at tablecloths.
"When I get married, I'm going to elope," I said, pushing the basket full of fabric scraps away.
"Only if you invite me," she answered nonchalantly.
"That kind of defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" Minako hummed before pulling particularly hard on a knot. "Ow!"
"Oops." She didn't sound particularly apologetic. "Shina-chan, let's take a break from napkins, please."
"Yes, please!" I begged. A pair of servants, who likely had been waiting outside and listening for our announcement, entered with a small cart carrying a full tea service. They set everything out for us without our having to ask or direct them, then left quietly. I served myself immediately—really, I should be tremendously overweight—but Minako ignored the spread and continued working on my hair while I sipped my tea. I sat quietly, letting her focus. She had her work and I had a great view out the window.
This window opened out into a little garden which was concealed from nearly every other part of the house. Because of its invisibility, the gardeners had allowed it to grow less formally than the more impressive rose gardens and hedge mazes spanning the rest of the property. The little, overgrown garden was one of my favorite places around the Oshiro estate. Minako had shown me the garden one time when we had snuck away from her nanny when I was about five and since that day, we had spent whole days there in what she like to call Our Secret Garden. Picnics had been had there secrets told and peace and quiet enjoyed when there was nowhere else to go. A year ago, we had found an abandoned bird nest, feathers still stuck between twigs, egg shell chips left behind and an old, faded red ribbon that Minako's mother had lost months before woven through the layers. The gray sky had provided a stunning backdrop and an excellent contrast to the ribbon. The resulting picture was my favorite of any I had ever taken and after having it enlarged, I had had it professionally framed and hung on my bedroom wall. Looking into the little garden at the onset of spring, I watched a tiny bird swoop in and out of the branches of the tree wondered if he had taken over my little, abandoned nest.
"There!" Minako announced, pulling me away from the window. "What do you think?" She handed me her phone, having already taken a picture of the back of my head. My hair and been separated into three braids, then all three had been twisted together and pinned into a spiral on the crown of my head, my color spiraling in and out of the inky black. Switching the camera to the front view, I examined the way the delicate twist looked like a crown from this side. Minako really was quite good at this.
"It's gorgeous," I told her, "but I don't think your parents will like my color showing in any pictures." I prepared her a cup of tea and passed it to her to serve as a distraction for her grumbling.
"But I love your color," she said, obediently taking a sip. I laughed at her childlike complaint.
"So do I," I agreed, "but we have to let them think we dance to their beat, don't we?"
"It's my wedding," she said petulantly. "Besides, it's not like they don't know about it already."
"True, but most people don't know," I reminded her. Most people would not approve of my little bit of rebellion. Her parents certainly didn't and my parents only tolerated it. "I don't think your parents want it revealed at your wedding. Just play along," I added when she opened her mouth to argue again.
"Fine," she muttered. She set down her tea cup and went back to picking through the basket of textured fabrics again, impatiently tossing each scrap to the side without giving any of them much of a look. I looked down to hide my smile from her and my eyes landed on her discarded tea cup. The shadow it created was lengthened by the setting sun and the polished surface of the opposite side cast a reflection on the table. It could have been a good picture if taken from the right angle, but that wasn't what caught my attention. The glint snagged a thought in the back of my head, something I was supposed to do.
"Dang it!" I shouted, and Minako looked up with interest. "The plate!"
"What plate?"
"Do you remember how I told you that Honey-senpai gave me a piece of cake to take home? I still have to give them the plate back. I completely forgot."
"Well, it's only been a week, right? That's not too bad. In fact, you have another week before it becomes a real problem." Her face split into a plotting grin and she pulled her laptop close, quickly tapping away. "But I know how to fix that."
"Minako," I said, a warning in my voice, "what are you doing?" She looked up at me with a smile, then went back to tapping away. Minako had always been the leader of our inseparable duo growing up, and I the willing follower. I had never minded and usually, I benefitted from her decisions and occasional meddling, no matter how rashly she acted. However, that look in her eye always meant she was planning something I wouldn't approve of.
"I'm getting you another date, of course." I made a mad grab for the laptop, but she pulled it onto her lap and spun away from me. "Nu, uh, uh," she sang. "You're not getting out of this. What do you think of this vase?" She turned the screen to face me, but kept the laptop out of my reach, a smirk on her face.
"It's gorgeous, of course," I told her. It would be a crime to lie about such a lovely piece; an antique cut crystal vase that caught the light at every angle. "But don't waste your money."
"I'm not wasting it," she said. "I'm buying a pretty vase that I think will make a lovely centerpiece at my wedding."
"Minako," I dragged the last syllable out and slumped back into my seat, raising my face to the ceiling and closing my eyes in a gesture of defeat.
"Let me spoil you," she said, "as payment for dealing with my bridezilla ways."
"You are not a bridezilla and I am not helping you for pay," I argued, but she cut off the rest of what I was going to say.
"I know you're not. Shinobu." She waited until I turned my face back to her. "What are you going to do otherwise? You can't just hand the plate back to them between classes."
"Why not?" When she began a rant about the social niceties of the high, upper-class, the danger of offending people of such high status as the Host Club gentlemen were, the importance of making strong connections with powerful people, I groaned loudly, having heard it all before. I had spent enough time around the Oshiros and their acquaintances to know how picky the wealthy were about manners. Personally, I thought it was overdone, but I also knew that breaking any of their little rules could spell social ruin. "Fine, fine, fine!" I cut over her speech and dropped my head to the table. "Buy the dang vase." I didn't look up, but I was sure she was grinning victoriously. I silently listened to her type away on her laptop for several minutes, but when she started on about a pretty pair of earrings up for auction, I jumped up and stole her computer. "You're ears aren't even pierced!" I reminded her, running away to dodge her grabbing.
"Yours are!" she argued, chasing me. She forced me out into the hallway and we only barely avoided a collision with her mother.
"Have you decided on napkins yet, then?" Mrs. Oshiro asked, arching her brow at our childishness.
"No, ma'am," we said in unison.
"Well, then, I suggest you get back to it." She took the computer out of my hands, turned and walked away leaving us to ruefully return to the basket of fabric scraps.
Hours later, I was in my own home, in my own room, sitting in front of the mirror and undoing the braids Minako had so carefully tied into my hair earlier, when my phone buzzed. The message was from Minako informing me that she had a new crystal vase and I had a date with the Hitachiin twins on Friday. The Hitachiin twins were always fun so I smiled and replied with a short thank you before returning my fingers to my hair, looking forward to Friday.
The Host Club was all dressed up. Cosplaying was a usual practice for the hosts and always sent the clients into a tizzy for days. Several weeks earlier, I had heard a group of regular Host Club clients swooning and gasping about the host's Bali cosplay. This time though, they were only wearing kimonos, not that they weren't all especially handsome in the traditional clothes. As planned, I was sitting across from the twins. "Our mother designed everything the hosts are wearing today," one twin—Hikaru, if I remembered correctly—explained. The twins were no easier to tell apart than they usual in their identical blue kimonos. "If you see something you like, we can take an order." The Hitachiins' mother was a world famous fashion designer based primarily out of France. Minako would be wearing one of her designs for the wedding.
"Our grandmother even helped us put them on," Kaoru said. Why did two teenage boys needed help putting on something as simple as a kimono?
"But you know," Hikaru added, pulling his twin in close, "the only one who will be undressing you is me." Two other girls sat with me at the twins' table and both dissolved into squeals at the display of forbidden brotherly love. I didn't know for sure if the love was real or an act, but I did know the Hitachiin twins had never minded being outspoken or playing with the emotions of others. Being only one grade above them, I had watched them sit together, tearing down anyone around them, since they were little more than ginger bobs. It wasn't until the previous year when Tamaki Suoh and Kyouya Ootori had pulled them into the Host Club that the twins became likable.
I excused myself to stretch my legs and get another cup of instant coffee while the boys continued to hold one another close. When I had first sat at their table, the twins insisted that it was the favorite drink of the Host Club and had insisted that we each have a cup immediately. The initial taste was bitter and sharp, but after I grew used to that, I had to admit that I kind of liked the buzz in the back of my skull of too much caffeine at once. I wanted more.
As I walked across the room, I observed the other hosts. Honey-senpai's kimono was bright, just like him, but was far too big for him and dragged along the ground behind him. It made him look even younger than usual as he ran from one part of the room to another, the robe flying behind him. Mori-senpai stayed in one place, but followed his cousin with his eyes, keeping watch over him. His kimono was a dark blue, nearly black, like a shadow. Tamaki was entertaining young women in a flamboyant, multicolored kimono that had too much going on. The overly busy pattern suited him well. Haruhi's kimono, though, surprised me. I had heard several other young women mention how the young man was as pretty as a girl and apparently, the Host Club had decided to play off that making Haruhi's kimono that of a girl. It was purple and pink and he even had a sweet pink barrette in his hair.
"Lady Shinobu," Kyouya called as I neared him. In theme with the rest of the hosts, he wore a dark brown kimono. Compared to the rest of them, the kimono itself was almost boring, though he still looked sharp in it and drew the eye. He was not entertaining anyone specifically, though he made polite conversation with any young woman who approached him.
"Hello, Kyouya," I greeted him, coming closer. He sat on his own, and appeared to be working, though I couldn't tell what on. Kyouya was always working, either tapping away on his laptop or scribbling in his notebook, but no one seemed to know what exactly he was doing. Maybe he was just doing homework, though somehow, I doubted that.
"We're glad to see you again. I believe this is the second time we've seen you in two weeks."
"How could I stay away," I flirted, mimicking the pretty girls around the room. There had to be some gene for charm built into the genes of the aristocracy because I couldn't quite nail the same sweet tone they all inherently had. "Besides," I added, switching to my usual tone, "I still have something that belongs to you." I pulled out the borrowed plate.
"Thank you," he said, bowing his head diplomatically before taking the plate. "I hope you didn't go to any trouble." I had to take Minako's computer away from her to keep her spending down and had ended up upsetting her mother.
"No trouble," I forced a small smile. Besides, that little bit of trouble was worth another afternoon with the Host Club. He nodded and offered me a serene smile as two girls approached.
"Hello, Kyouya," one said.
"I can't get over how great you look in that kimono," her friend added. While the comment was not untrue, my mouth twisted as I drew slightly back. The compliment-giving girl was Aoi Yamauchi, the daughter of a wealthy man with investments in, among other things, the Ootori Family's businesses. I was certain she was trying to brush up to the Ootori boy for the possible benefit of her family. "Are you planning to release any more picture books of the Host Club?" she continued. Host Club picture books? I had missed something.
"I'm afraid we don't have anything planned at present, ladies," he told them apologetically as the twins' heads peaked up over the top of the screen behind Kyouya.
"What picture books?" I asked a third year girl near me.
"You haven't seen them yet?" she gasped. Without my having to ask, she pulled out a obviously well-read magazine and shoved it under my nose. "They've already sold out. I've bought all of them though so I could let you borrow them sometime," she offered kindly. The magazine she had pushed into my hands had a picture of Tamaki on the front. In the picture, he was giving the camera his signature side-long look with his hand stretched forward. The picture was nearly flawless, but as I looked around the edges, I noticed the markers of unpracticed Photoshop. I opened the magazine with curiosity, but the pictures inside were poorly done. I wondered who the photographer was and what camera they had used. Most of the images were blurry, pixelated or otherwise discolored and in many cases, they were shot at uncomfortable angles with bad lighting. It was too bad the pictures were not of better quality; the subjects really were striking.
I heard Kyouya making similar comments to the twins about the quality and without raising my eyes from the magazine or thinking about what I was doing, I asked, "What camera did you use?"
"Do you have any experience with photography, Lady Shinobu?" Kyouya asked. I hadn't realized I had even spoken, but at his words my head shot up. It wasn't his question that caught my attention; it was the doubt in his voice. I tried to bite down on offense, reminding myself it would do me no good to glare at the wealthy and undeniably powerful boy.
"Yes. Yes, I do." His eyebrows rose at my tone and I lowered my eyes. My mother always did say that my pride would be my downfall. Kyouya opened his mouth to respond, but his eyes slid to somewhere over my shoulder and I turned to see the Hitachiins teasing Haruhi about something and the rest of the hosts gathering while all the clients gazed at the cluster of males with adoration.
"If you'll excuse me, ladies," Kyouya stood, taking his notebook with him and continuing to work as he joined the other boys.
I continued onto the table in the back and was pouring myself another cup of 'commoners' coffee' when the Hitachiins' caught my attention. "Looks like the Host Club has a brand new guest," they said in unison as they were apt to do. Their words hadn't been directed at us, but as one, all the Host Club clients turned towards the doors. It was rare that a girl would wait so long in the afternoon to come to the music room and even rarer to get a new guest. Most of the girls here had been coming for ages. We turned to greet the newest member of our subtly competitive sisterhood.
A girl was shyly peaking around the door and into the Music Room. I didn't recognize her, but she wore the yellow uniform dress the rest of us girls wore so I assumed she had to be a student. I watched, curiously. Most of the girls who came to the host clubs were far from shy. We were more likely to run into the Host Club than to hide outside. The shy girl stepped back as the twins swooped towards her, first one, then the other. From my position, I couldn't hear what they said, but apparently Tamaki could and didn't approve. He appeared beside the girl as well, turning his charm to her, offering her a flower and gently cocking a finger under her chin to turn her face up towards his. I watched from afar, having seen him use the same tactic on plenty of young women, Minako included, and the effect always was instantaneous. I waited for her to melt like all the rest.
She shoved him away, shrieking, "No!"
Every jaw dropped.
No one ever turned down Tamaki. Even if his style of hosting wasn't for everyone, we couldn't help but be drawn to him, at least a little. Certainly, no one had ever pushed the handsome blond away. "Don't touch me," she continued. "You're phony!"
Tamaki looked completely unraveled by the unexpected turn of events. "What do you mean 'I'm phony'?" he demanded, distraught.
"Just what I said!" she yelled, pushing her finger into his face. The once shy girl was shy no longer. Without hesitation, she slammed insults into Tamaki without caring about his reactions. As he staggered, nearly every client in the room cried for him, their darling prince. Even I had to admit that the girl was being harsh. Finally, the beloved President/Prince Tamaki fell to the ground in dismay.
As vice-president of the Host Club, it wasn't surprising when Kyouya spoke up next and I wondered if she was going to harp into him as well. I really should have brought my camera today because I didn't think anything like this would ever happen again. "I don't suppose," he said, "you are…"
The girl became momentarily still and drew back into herself as tears welled in her eyes. She whispered something I doubt even the hosts, who were closest to her, could hear, but the short sentence was easily lip-read. I saw her mouth form the words, "It's you," and leaned forward instinctively to see if I could catch what she would say next.
"KYOUYA!" She launched herself forward, bouncing off Tamaki and using him as a springboard to reach Kyouya. She threw her arms around him and all onlookers, clients and hosts alike stood in shock. I had never seen anyone except Tamaki hug the Ootori boy. "Oh, how I've longed to meet you!" she sighed.
What? The girl had never met him before, but she clung to Kyouya like he was her reason for living. Even Kyouya, who never looked surprised by anything looked startled as she held him around the waist, her cheek pressed against his chest. "My one and only Prince Charming," she sighed happily. With her voice lowered to a more normal volume, I could hear her French accent, though she spoke Japanese fluently.
"Excuse me, my princess," Tamaki wheezed, massaging his ribs as he stood and approached the still joined pair. "But do you know Kyouya?"
"Of course," she said happily. "He's my fiancé."
"I'm afraid the Host Club will be closing early today, ladies," Kyouya announced.