Chapter 2 - P-Mon Origins!

Thursday of that week came swiftly. Music Room #3 was bustling as the Host Club set up for their Knights of the Round Table theme.

Haruhi squirmed in her armour, feeling the beads of sweat form on her brow. Grabbing at the wall, she attempted to walk in it, creaking and clanking horribly. She wasn't the only one having trouble.

It was near impossible to find anything big enough to fit Mori-senpai, who currently looked very short of breath in his armour. Honestly, the only one who looked like he was having a good time was – no surprises - Tamaki in his King Arthur garb. Kyoya was seated at one of the tables, scribbling in his notebook, having refused to wear his helmet, regardless of the number of 'But, Mommy!'s it received.

Suddenly, a foreign odour hit Haruhi's nose. It seemed the others had smelled it too as it was enough to cut the Hitachiin brothers' sword fight short. She sniffed the air again, reflexively scrunching her face. What was that? A gas leak? No. She snapped her fingers. Paint.

A few moments later, Ryo appeared in the doorway. Or something that vaguely looked like her? Haruhi couldn't believe she was actually grateful she'd received a preparatory slideshow on this. From what she could tell, Hisakawa was on Stage 5.

Typically, Ryo wore the school's standard yellow dress; she did today, though it was covered in so many multi-coloured stains, you couldn't even tell the paint apart from the material. True to Hikaru's words, her face was obscured with a mass of brown, bushy hair. For the tiny increments of time when the face was visible, Haruhi saw huge, dark bags under her eyes. She was pushing a wheelbarrow of completed Host Club merchandise into the room.

Honey-senpai was the first to greet her with the usual excited squeals of "Ryo-chan!" He hopped into the wheelbarrow, wading through the fanzines, paintings and photos albums. Tamaki followed suit.

"Ryo-hime! How lovely of you to grace us with your presence!" His eyes shone as he produced a rose from thin air. But to his dismay, she raised her palm and pushed his face away.

"Please don't patronise me, Suoh," she grunted.

Irritability levels are at their maximum capacity.

"P-Mon is immune to Boss' charm," the Hitachiin's pointed out.

"No! Tell me it's not true, Ryo-hime!" Tamaki ever the drama queen, pressed his hands to his chest as though taking a knife to the heart. Ryo's eye roll went missed through her mass of hair.

"I've drawn him so many times, he looks average to me," she said, wheeling the barrow to the end of the room, Honey-senpai still giggling inside it. Her comment twisted the blade in Tamaki's heart.

"That's a bit harsh, P-Mon," Hikaru said, watching their 'King Arthur' writhing in agony on the floor.

"Hey, you didn't have to paint a 10 by 10 meter of just his face." She began to unpack, picking up Honey and placing him on the ground with a stack of Mori-themed doujinshis.

"And what's wrong with that?" Tamaki demanded.

In response, Hikaru and Kaoru each placed a consoling hand on her shoulders.

"We're sorry. That sounds awful."

Tamaki flew into a rage, lunging at the twins and in a bid to finish where they left off the day before... and the day before that and the day before that. Somewhere in the tangle of limbs, a fingernail caught flesh.

"AHH!" Clutching his face, Tamaki stumbled to the mirror. He took away his palm to reveal a tiny red line on his jaw. "Hideous! Don't look at me!"

Armour clanking, he flung himself into a corner into a miserable huddle - faced away from a cruel, judgemental world.

"Boss, you okay?"

"No. How can I call myself a host with this horrific, disfiguring scar?! I can't even charm Ryo-hime. What's the point of me being here anymore?!"

Ryo, among the spectators, sighed, deciding to make amends. She picked out one of the smaller picture frames, taking care not to show the others the picture inside.

"Here. As you requested."

Hesitant this was some trick, he didn't turn around at first. She nudged his shoulder with it, coaxing his head around to see what she was holding. His tears dried instantly.

"You finished it already?!"

He grabbed it, examining the picture in the frame, a dopey grin on his face.

"What is it, M'lord?" The twins appeared behind him to take a look. He immediately covered it up by pressing the frame to his chest.

"Nothing!" he sprinted back to his corner, stealthily taking a very obvious peek.

"Like it?" Ryo asked.

"I LOVE IT!" Tamaki cried, pirouetting around the room. The floating pink hearts were back, dancing along with him. "It's adorable! Thank you!"

He danced to Ryo's side, sweeping her up into a very tight embrace and unwittingly constricting her arms to her sides.

"Hugging is definitely within my comfort zone" came Ryo's muffled voice, as her feet dangled off the floor.

If Tamaki heard her, then he chose to feign ignorance, spinning around happily. His gay demeanour rendered him distracted enough for Hikaru to jump up and snatch the picture frame from his hand.

"No, give it back!"

"Uhh, Boss? What's this?" he laughed, showing his brother the picture.

Earlier that month...

Tamaki found himself sat opposite Ryo's desk. This was one of those times in the week where she took requests from the student body. They commissioned her for loads of drawings, not just those of the Host Club. He'd stopped himself from coming to her for ages, embarrassed to make his own request. Eventually, however, his desire to have his dream realised was too much to bear. Ryo cleared her throat, making a note of his description.

"Suoh-kun, this is pretty unusual… So, just to clarify, you would like a drawing of Haruhi-kun."

Tamaki nodded fervently, trying his best not to go an even deeper shade of red.

"But… in a dress, am I right?"

"It's not what it looks like!" Tamaki now yelled.

"You asked P-Mon to draw Haruhi in a dress."

"No!"

"I mean that is what you did…" Ryo interjected. He glared at her.

"Who's side are you on?!"

Haruhi stopped feeling uncomfortable by Tamaki's displays of affection - in all their weirdness - a long time ago. She narrowed her eyes, watching the usual chaos unfold in front of her, deep in thought.

"Something on your mind, Haruhi?" Kyoya came up beside her.

"I don't get it."

"Tamaki paid Ryo money in exchange for a portrait of you in a dress."

"Senpai, you know that's not what I meant."

"You're curious about Hisakawa?"

"You've got contacts in pretty much every industry imaginable right? And I'm not saying Hisakawa-san's work isn't impressive but, why would you pick her instead of a professional?"

"Hisakawa's services are just as good as any professional for a fraction of the price. Waiting longer for production is only a minor drawback in light of the savings we make. Likewise, collaborating with other club's around school keeps us in good graces with other students as well as the board of governors. It shows solidarity and 'school spirit', you know?"

"I guess so… Is that really it?"

"Of course," he lied smoothly.

A long time (but not quite three years) ago...

Kyoya couldn't believe it. How did that idiot manage to rope him into this? It wasn't a question about whether or not he'd be able to get his work done on time. It was obvious he could, even with his new responsibilities. Even so, he didn't ever once stop questioning what he was actually doing, starting this Host Club with Suoh. He scribbled in his notebook, irritated, working out their Club's budgeting plan. They still had to find a room as well as other hosts. He'd be damned if he had to host alone with Tamaki.

"Wow. Your hair is so bushy."

He looked up from his calculations. A group of kids in his year were standing on the other end of the courtyard. Kyoya didn't move because he'd picked a good spot where he could sit, unnoticed and uninterrupted. He was free to observe though.

"Can you get a brush through it?"

"Bet she can't."

The girl in question did indeed have a messy mop of brown hair. Kyoya recognized her as Ryo Hisakawa, the new girl who'd transferred to the Ouran middle school halfway through the year. Her parents were successful investment bankers though nouveau riche at best. Not much of a pedigree there. Still, he'd already introduced himself to her in the event that their business gains more recognition. She didn't seem too bothered by him though. No matter, the feeling was mutual. They seemed to have an understanding that being civil was perfectly fine – there was no point in pretending to be friends when you weren't.

"Your dress is filthy, is that paint?"

"Ewww, I bet she doesn't wash."

"Ahah, look! Did we hurt Paint Monster's feelings?"

"Paint Monster, you gonna cry?"

For a split second, it looked like she would. A hurt look flickered over her face. Kyoya wondered if anyone would butt in, 'save the day' so to speak. He wasn't. Why get involved for her? But then she did something that made the bullies stop laughing. She gave a brilliant smile and laughed along too.

"Paint Monster, that's a good one! Can I use that?"

Any need for a rescuer was diminished. Kyoya snapped his notebook shut with an intrigued hum. That was new. Maybe he didn't give his fellow students enough credit. Or maybe he was just losing his touch. First, he was wrong about Suoh. Now about this too?

He smirked to himself. Nah.

Kyoya's surprises didn't end in middle school, however. A year on at Ouran High, the Host Club became far more successful than he could have ever cared to admit. Still, it was a growing business. And like any business, Kyoya acknowledged, it had to spread into other media. That was why he was currently looking for someone to rope into creating Host Club merchandise. He had a few contenders, he'd even considered using his family's connections in the movie industry to find a photographer. That was a wild goose chase that only resulted in a snooty middle-aged man with an old camera, a set of smudged photos and a bill saying he was worth three times more than he actually was.

No, this new photographer had to be close by. Someone he could monitor regularly. This led him to spending the last hour profiling Academy students on the school database. Out of all the contenders, one stuck out like a sore thumb.

Ryo Hisakawa from Class 1-B. He skimmed through her grades. Fairly average in sciences, languages and humanities. For the lessons she shows up to, her PE grades were abysmal. Third in the year for Math though, a trait developed from her parents no doubt. He remembered she'd beaten him in the Math summer exam the year before. He scrolled down, finding what he was looking for. She was very skilled in fine arts and, naturally, was top of her class. He'd seen her work dotted around school. Not only was it impressive but the sheer volume of it proved she was a hard worker. Guaranteed, she wouldn't be lazy and procrastinate.

The only setback would be her busy schedule. A member of the Ouran Art Society, she was also a photographer for the Yearbook Committee as well as a regular on the Mathematics Team. Would she want to be the Host Club's official artist and photographer too? They'd have to make it worthwhile for her. Or at worst, con - no - charm her into it. Maybe if Tamaki worked his magic well enough she'd do it for free. He shook his head – it won't work. Suoh would never go for it, he's too honest. Idiot.

Kyoya, on the other hand, never really considered himself an altruist. It didn't really bother him too much how this girl came to work with the Host Club, so long as she did it. That being said, he did have an ulterior motive for it being her above the rest. He'd read not too long ago the Hisakawa family had struck gold. In the year that he'd known her, her parents had been enjoying their business' exponentially growing success. Sooner or later, Kyoya's father would've told him to befriend her anyway. May as well keep her close and happy now.

That's why splitting the profits seemed like the only viable thing to do. Not that she needed the pocket money. No one really did at this school. The girl would get free publicity on top of decent pay for her troubles. He scrolled through her possible university choices. Top schools for economics and business management in the US, UK and Japan. Fairly typical for Ouran. His cursor stopped on a name that seemed the odd one out. Royal University College of Art. Interesting. Of course, she'd be free to use all the work she'd done for them in her own portfolio. She must be compiling one to get into RUCA.

The warning bell went for next period, though Kyoya was already packing up. It was settled. He'd tell Tamaki about his findings and they'll go talk to the Paint Monster together.

A/N: Thanks for reading, hope you liked it. Feel free to favourite, follow and review!