Chapter One

Yellow Is Not My Colour

I didn't understand.

Of course I didn't.

I don't know how I had ever expected myself to. This place, this world, it was too strange, too different. Everyone carried on like the entire world was just fine with them pulling rank on each other and butting heads and disrupting daily life for their own selfish petty politics when what they did actually mattered. They were so detached from reality that it felt like I'd fallen down my very own rabbit hole, without any need for a rabbit at all. It was all bizarre and frustrating and I'd been thrust in woefully under-prepared. I had definitely learnt something, though.

People like me shouldn't enter Ouran High.

I'd kind of known this from the moment my disgruntled and newly-discovered aunt thrust the box into my hands. It was heavier than a cardboard box of clothes should have been and my look of horror as I dragged out the thick yellow ballgown-esque uniform was obviously not lost on her. She glared at me with as much venom as she could muster.

"This… can't be the uniform," I said slowly. She made a sound of distaste at my hesitant and broken Japanese.

"You have not been practising as you were instructed." I sighed.

"I'm in Japan. Everyone speaks Japanese. How could I not practise?" Her eyes flashed and I winced. I still wasn't quite adept at this 'no sarcasm or backchat' thing my new family had going on. I looked down at the yellow – yellow – fabric and clenched my fists.

"That is the Ouran uniform. You shall wear it without complaint."

"Okay, fine. I'll wear it." But like hell I wasn't going to complain. When she had left, I held it up to myself and turned to the mirror. Yellow. Why did it have to be yellow? And those puffy sleeves… did anyone actually look good in this? I stared at myself in despair. I was so obviously western that it hurt and I was built completely differently to all those slim little Japanese girls. I poked my ample chest that I had to live with, currently hidden by the biggest and scruffiest hoodie I owned, solely to annoy my Aunt Chiyoko. It was going to be a struggle to squeeze the twins into that thing, I was sure. At least it was high cut and there was no way I could fall out of it… although I'd probably find something equally embarrassing to do on the first day anyway. I winced at my reflection. It was a completely ridiculous outfit and so out of touch with which century it was that I either wanted to laugh my ass off or burn it at the stake. Either way, I knew I'd look absolutely stupid in it. Throwing it over the door, I collapsed onto my bed and curled up into the foetal position. I'd developed a liking for the foetal position.

Someone knocked.

"Katya-kun?" Yori took my grunt as acceptance and walked into the cloud of yellow. I heard him hold it up. There was a pause.

"Wow. They're sending you Ouran Academy?" I grunted again. My bed squeaked as he sat down on the end of it. Neither of us spoke for a minute. Yori's family lived all over this apartment building and I'd been kind of taken on as an extra child – considering there were already seven (that I knew of), it didn't seem to make too much difference. Yori and Suzu, his five year old sister and cute as a button, lived in the three-room flat with me. We'd thought me and Yori would end up going to the high school together. I had even started looking forward to it and he'd been telling me all about the different classes he was taking and all the people I would meet. Would have met.

"You know, you're going to have to walk through the neighbourhood in that." I groaned loudly.

"Why would you say that?" I moaned, batting him with my pillow before sinking back down into my ball of peace. "I'm going to look like such an idiot…" I added in English. He poked me.

"Don't do that. I have no idea what you're saying."

"Welcome to my world."

"They'll make your life hell for that." He meant the local street thugs, led by Jai, who was the biggest self-centred pile of cocksure arrogance I'd ever had the displeasure of witnessing. I'd been here two months; we'd had various run-ins already.

"They'll regret it."

"Try not to kill anyone."

"No promises."

He sighed, a far-away look on his face, one that I only really saw when he talked about his 'friend' Sayuri (for which I teased him mercilessly).

"I'm so jealous."

"Of me? Haven't we already had the conversation about how much my life pretty much sucks at this point?" I frowned at him from under my arm.

"But it's Ouran," he sighed and shook his head. We sat there in silence for a couple more minutes. He tousled my hair as he got up to find Suzu, flicking off my light on the way out. Alone, I contemplated the depth of missing knowledge about pretty much everything Japanese. A few months ago, the extent of my Japanese was 'Sorry' and 'Everyone', random words picked up from binging on anime. Now I lived in the freaking country: from the Children's Home in Cheshire, England, to this run-down flat, to live with people I barely knew, while answering to a stupidly wealthy family that was trying their hardest to disown me without actually disowning me and now, with the end of the summer looming, I was apparently being sent to some legendary school for rich Japanese kids that I knew absolutely nothing about, except that it should only exist in a fairy tale. I grimaced and put my headphones on, blasting familiar songs in the darkness.

The yellow gown mocked me every time I turned over. It took me a very long time to get to sleep.

The back of the classroom became my sanctuary that I left with reluctance after every class. I quickly became aware that while my speaking had improved dramatically, my reading and writing skills were absolutely terrible, at least in Japanese. I had to copy down exactly what the teacher wrote on the board and spend my entire lunch break translating all my notes into English so I didn't fall behind. This meant I usually looked like a complete moron during class, which was not something I was used to. I found myself living for maths class, which was exactly the damn same, and I was just as good in Japan as I had been back home – which, luckily, was pretty damn good. I hadn't made any friends – to be honest, I didn't really want to, which I'm sure would send Aunt Chiyoko into a blinding spitting rage. I was starting to think that the entire school was made just so families could make seemingly innocent contacts with others through their kids. The entire school was one big jumble of politics. My school back in England had been about grades, putting on a tough face and ignoring the popular girls who hung out in the English block. This… was an entirely different ballpark and I had no idea how to play the game.

It was starting to seem like a serious problem.

I was almost lost, having somehow ended up in the west wing, when I heard footsteps behind me. I squeezed my eyes shut and kept walking. Please, not now. The footsteps picked up speed.

"Hayashi!"

Leave me alone…

"Hayashi Katya!" A hand came down on my shoulder heavily. I jerked to a stop and stared down at the floor as the owners of the footsteps all caught up. I turned slowly to face the smiling – read, smirking – Fukui Tsubame.

She was my other serious problem.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were ignoring me." She pouted and flicked her hair out of her eyes. "And that would really not be very nice." I didn't answer her, very aware of the semicircle of supporters. She sighed, putting an unwelcome arm around my shoulders.

"We had an appointment, did we not?" She said airily. "You were going to… Akemi, what did I say yesterday?" Her taller friend giggled nastily.

"You said she could clean your shoes instead of rent."

"That's right!" Tsubame clapped and grinned at me. "That sounds like such a good trade, doesn't it?" I looked at her dully.

"I can pay my rent." She tutted.

"Yes, but you see, it's not just your rent, is it?" I glared at my shoes and forced myself not to reply. Politics, I thought, could suck its own pompous dick.

Fukui Tsubame was rich – obviously. She was petite and sort of pretty, though her face was usually marred by her trademark greedy snarl. Her dark hair was cut into a severe bob that suited her just fine and, surprisingly, she looked alright in the yellow uniform I hated so much. What made her different was the fact she was a complete and utter bitch with an unfortunate knack for leadership, a dark love for blackmail and a sadistic need to humiliate others for her pleasure. She was in my class, always sitting at the front, always asking me questions to poke fun at my shaky Japanese, stealing my notes and laughing at the English she found there – because obviously English was a stupid language (just… what?). Tsubame liked to mock me at every opportunity, the poverty-stricken girl whose relatives only just tolerated her existence. She was just a classic bully; she jeered, stole my things, tripped me in the cafeteria. It was nothing really new. Oh, except she also owned the apartment block I lived in, so if I didn't do everything she told me to, Yori and his family would be out on the street before I could blink.

Classic bullies I could deal with. This was something else.

"Fine." I sighed. "Give me your shoes, then." She laughed. She had the worst laugh ever.

"Don't be a fool, Hayashi," she twinkled. "I don't want to take my shoes off. The floors have had all sorts of things walking all over them." Her cronies sneered at me. I was obviously one of those things. I gripped my maths book tighter and counted down from fifteen.

"So what do you expect me to do, Fukui?" Swearing at her in English every time I said her surname gave me a small amount of happiness. A very small amount.

She leaned in very close and her grin widened some more.

"I expect you to lick them clean." Someone's hand grabbed me from behind and I hit the floor hard. I stared at my reflection in her shiny shoes, my face on fire. She was getting worse. I itched to pull her down with me, to sink my fist into her grinning face, to draw blood from whichever part of her broke first. I knew, I knew, what I should have done, instead of turning slowly back into the meek person I used to be. I clenched my fists on the cold ground, aware of the feet purposefully trampling on my skirt. Tsubame leered down at me.

"How good a friend is that Sato Yori?"

I closed my eyes and obeyed.

"What the hell happened to you?!" I tried to shut the door in Yori's face but he was annoyingly bigger than me. I gave up and stalked away from him.

"You know, it's rude to force yourself into someone else's room."

"Your face, Katya." He grabbed me and spun me round. I winced. Tsubame and Co had upped the ante.

"It's nothing," I growled. He span me round to face the mirror, drawing out another painful hiss, and pointed at my reflection. I made a face, then stopped, because it hurt like hell. One of my eyes was blackening quickly and though my lip had stopped bleeding a couple of hours earlier, it still insisted on being frighteningly red. It had been a bad day. Apparently Tsubame shoes were too eager to be clean and one of them got very well acquainted with my eye. The rest of her friends' shoes had said hello to most of my other body parts as well. Akami's had been the hardest. I really didn't like that one.

Long story short, I hurt like a bitch.

"You let them hurt you like this?" I shook him off and began dumping clothes in the wash basket.

"They only kicked the shit out of me a little. It's no big deal," I muttered. He grabbed my uniform and shook it in front of my face. The browning stains were hard to miss. Face burning, I snatched it back.

"I said, no big deal."

"How is that no big deal?" He yelled at me.

"You'll wake Suzu-chan," I said softly. We both glanced to the open door and his tiny sister sleeping soundly. He looked at me and his eyes made me feel so guilty that I turned my back on him completely.

"Why didn't you stop them?" I hesitated.

"You should see the other guy," I said eventually, shaking out my uniform. He didn't answer and I knew he suspected I was lying through my teeth. I heard the door close a second later and sank slowly to the floor, gripping the blood-stained dress until my knuckles went white.

I couldn't tell them.