Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran Highschool Host Club. © Bisco Hatori

Chapter 1: Shenanigans

At 3:05 p.m. on the grounds of the South Campus of Ouran Academy, near a fountain with a cherub pissing endlessly into the water, there sat by the pond's edge the present subject of this narrative. He sat at the corner of the pond, deep in concentration over his notepad, pen in hand and poised on scratching out the next few lines. His expression seemed to waver between hope and despair, between courage and cowardice, his creativity struggling to burst through the surface.

He struggled; 2nd-year English Literature majors like himself rarely struggled to get the words out on paper, but here he was doing just that and gaining nothing beyond the first four lines of drivel for his efforts. At times like these (which happened far too often, sadly), he would cast his gaze towards the pissing cherub in the center of the pond, listening to the sound of splashing water that used to compose his thoughts so well. He looked and listened, but not even the soothing music of water worked on him now.

Still, he worked at it in cold blood. For five more minutes, he wracked his brains over the words, the rhythm and the rhyme, trying valiantly to come up with a miracle that would release him from his blockage and send him on a writing binge, but to no avail.

Damn it all! he thought, and crumpled up yet another sheet and threw it into the pond, where it floated for a minute or so before sinking beneath the surface. Other crumpled balls of paper lay at the bottom of the pond, slowly dissolving away.

He then rubbed at his temples to ease away the frustrations of yet another failure, before stealing yet another glance of himself in the reflection shimmering on the surface. He sure as hell didn't look like a poet—brown hair with no shine, dark eyes with no luster, a youthful face with no indication of poetic expression in spoken or written words.

Maybe he's right, after all, he thought. Maybe it was a mistake to go against his wishes—no! I won't give him the satisfaction!

"That's littering, you know."

Here he turned from his thoughts, barely comprehending the words spoken to him, and saw someone he'd never seen before. Still, in the present circumstances, one would've mistaken them as cousins, or even brother and sister, though neither shared any familial relationship past a passing resemblance. "Wait, what did you say? I didn't catch what you said."

"You're littering. If you need to throw paper away, throw it in the trash can and not in the pond."

"Oh, sorry about that," he said, then went silent; he had no idea what else to say or do to placate the interest he attracted today. So he did the only sensible thing he could do: he took off his loafers and socks, rolled up his pants and the sleeves of his blue blazer and undershirt, then waded in the shallows picking up soggy clumps of paper.

Viewing this gave Haruhi a sense of deja vu, as she remembered barely a week ago that she occupied a similar position, while she was searching for her wallet wading in and getting herself wet, with Tamaki wading in with her. Now, however, this boy occupied her former position wading through the water amid the lilies, while she occupied Tamaki's looking from the water's edge. So she followed precedent, took off shoes and socks, rolled up her pants and sleeves and waded in with him.

The boy turned and said, "Oh, I didn't mean for you to help me. I can do it on my—"

"A little water never hurt anyone." Haruhi stopped; she had repeated Tamaki's same words to the letter, and with similar intent, even. In the two weeks she had known Tamaki in all his eccentricities, she never thought she would take after him in that way, which made her question her sanity. She thought, There's no way in hell, Haruhi; it's just too weird, and left it at that, picking up more soggy wads of paper and placing them in a soggy pile at the water's edge.

"Oh, okay. Thank you," the boy said, as he hauled his own pile of wet paper clumps next to hers, before wading in again to gather more. "I never really had anyone help me before, so I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, but seriously, this is a lot of paper in the pond. And from the looks of it, they all came from the same notepad. How long have you been here?" she said.

"This is my second year at the South Campus."

Then that would make you my senpai, then. "I'm sorry. What I meant is, how long have you been at this pond? There are better places to study than here, you know."

He turned to Haruhi, saying, "Well, four days if you include today. I didn't go into any of the libraries; they were too noisy. This fountain is the quietest place I could find that's near my classes, and I kinda like the sound of the water here, along with the scenery. It makes for good inspiration, I think." After that, he returned to finding more clumps of damp paper.

Haruhi noted with a somewhat pleasant surprise that the boy had none of the eccentric qualities of her fellow hosts, nor any of the fangirl fanaticisms of the host club clientele. Finally, someone who's actually NORMAL, for once! Still, she detected something off in his answer, so she picked up and un-crumpled one of the less soggy clumps and read the contents. "Oh, are you an English Lit. major? If you are, then you might want to get out of your shell a bit, if you're looking for inspiration."

"Wait, WHAT!" When the boy turned around, he almost had a heart attack at the sight of her holding an opened sheet of soggy paper. "Don't read that! Gimmie that!" And without so much as waiting for her to 'give' it, he lunged forward and snatched it out of her hand, himself all flustered and red-faced, before he lost his footing and took her down with him in a splash!

Once the waves reduced to mere ripples in the pond, both individuals were soaking wet, Haruhi 'on the bottom' looking up at him in confusion, and the boy 'on top' looking down at her, shocked and, well . . . Mere nanoseconds elapsed, till both parties recovered enough to be aware of their positions, when realization struck them both. As a result of the accident in the pond where the cherub pissed into the water without fail, Haruhi found herself being fondled at the same instant that the boy realized he was fondling her right breast beneath her blazer.

Instantly the boy got off of her before Haruhi had any inclination to slap him, although she struggled to keep herself in check. She just sat there, pulling her blazer over her molested chest, not knowing whether to scream at him or just laugh it all off.

In the end, she chose the latter option, laughing as though she were exorcising the need to scream, then said, "You need to be careful next time. You never know who might be watching," before getting herself to her feet.

As for the unfortunate poetaster, he shrank away from her cringing in fear behind the pissing cherub. "Please don't hurt me! I didn't mean it, I swear!"

"Hey, you're not in any danger, okay? I'm not mad at you; I'm just . . . surprised, that's all," she said, which exampled her tendency to understate things. "Honest, I'm not gonna kill you."

As it turned out, something more auspicious lay in store for the boy in the form of the Third Music Room of the South Campus, when Hikaru said, "Hey, Boss, you might want to look at this."

"Haruhi's in the pond with another guy," continued Kaoru, beckoning Tamaki to the window overlooking the pond.

Said 'Boss' looked up from his conference with Kyoya in deciding the next theme for the host club itinerary, while Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai (accompanied by his Usa-chan) drank tea and ate cake at a nearby table.

"What's she doing in the pond?" Tamaki said. "And what other guy are you talking about?"

Kyoya, Mori and Honey looked at the twins.

The Hitachiin twins, in turn, looked at one another and smiled mischievous smiles that would've made their customers squeal. It was high time to mess with their doting king again. "We don't know, Boss. We witnessed the whole thing, and you won't believe what just happened."

"What is it? What happened?" Tamaki rushed to the window and stood in between the twins and beheld the concluding scene of the last act between Haruhi and the unknown boy, still cowering behind the cherub, apparently still afraid of the female host. "What's going on down there?"

Hikaru said, "We saw that guy asking Haruhi to help him pick up stuff from the pond—"

"—and she helped him," added Kouru.

As vague and innocent as that statement sounded to any sane person, any connection to Haruhi made it instantly suspicious in Tamaki's daughter-complex. In fact, in the theater of his mind, he saw a shady yakuza kid leading on an adorably innocent Haruhi into the pond with him. "B-but I told my daughter never to talk to strangers."

"And that guy turned on her and actually took her down with her," said the twins in unison, which was only half true, of course.

But it had it's effect, when in Tamaki's mind, he saw to his horror that shady yakuza kid attacking poor Haruhi in the water, grabbing hold of both her wrists while she struggled to get free, before tackling her till he was 'on top' of her and getting ready to—

In that instant, Tamaki's expression turned from horrified to blood-and-guts vengeance that would've done Kyoya proud, though the true depths of the Shadow King's awesome power remains unfathomable. In that instant, I say, Tamaki sped through the double doors and down the hall, where the echo of "Daddy's coming, Haruhi! I shall smite thine assailant and preserve thine innocence!" resounded throughout.

Instead of laughing their guts out, both twins just looked at each other and realized the error of their ruse. "Wait, Boss, it was just a joke! We were just kidding around!" they both yelled, both terrified at the consequences of sending an enraged Tamaki upon the unwitting instrument of their shenanigans.

They raced down the North Corridor, then down the two flights of the Grand Staircase of red carpet and pink stucco, literally sliding down the traceried railing of the last flight of stairs somehow without falling off, then dashed through the main foyer of massive vaulted ceilings and columns past several startled onlookers, including many of the host club clientele. Once they reached the entrance, they dashed across the courtyard past manicured bushes and giant flower pots and more startled onlookers before taking a side entrance into the secluded garden that was to become (in their minds, at least) the scene of an outrage neither twin wanted on his conscience.

"Damn it, Kaoru, if the club gets suspended because of this, I'm blaming you for starting it!"

"You agreed to this, too, Hikaru! We're both at fault if the boss gets in trouble!"

Before their argument escalated into a real quarrel, however, they were met with a scene neither twin anticipated. For by the pond's edge, a wet and scared Tamaki was at the mercy of one of Haruhi's tirades, as she interrogated her senpai beneath her ever-growing glare.

But let's back up a moment and follow the whole progression of this scene.

Mere minutes before the twins reached the pond, Tamaki had just reached the water's edge where Haruhi was just beginning to convince the hapless poet that she had no murderous designs on him. In fact, Haruhi had managed to coax the boy from his abode behind the cherub, when Tamaki lunged forward across the water kung-fu style and screamed, "Tama-chan kick," connecting with the poet's face and sending him spinning a few feet before landing in the water with another bigger splash!

A wave lurched forward in the wake of that splash, overflowing the pond's banks and sending a shallow deluge spreading across the flagstoned grounds.

"Senpai! What was that for?"

"It's my payback for his attack on you. Now stay behind me," he said, making sure to put himself between his daughter and the man that was just beginning to get himself up on all fours. "There's no telling what that yakuza kid might do!"

But she ran towards him, anyway.

"Haruhi, don't!" And an overprotective Tamaki grabbed a hold of Haruhi's arm, but she turned around and slapped him dead in the face, stunning him for some moments, before she ran to the boy's assistance.

"Are you all right?" she said, helping the boy to his feet and leading him towards the water's edge, before she helped him up to dry ground. "I'm so sorry, sir . . . I didn't mean for you to get hit like that."

Tamaki couldn't believe his eyes. In fact, the slap seemed to dissipate all conscious thought out of his head, leaving him mute as well as stunned. When he finally regained his sanity, his immediate thoughts centered on two questions: Why would his own daughter slap him after he tried to save her from her attacker? On top of that, why would his own daughter help her attacker? In the end, he had no idea; for all he knew, the answer to both questions could be the reason why rape victims sometimes fell in love with their rapists.

"And as for you, Tamaki-senpai," she said, turning her attention to the man, "do you realize I could have you reported for this?"

That threat brought him back to reality right quick. The mere thought of having to answer his own father, the Chairman of Ouran Academy, for his brash conduct against another student made his knees quiver and his face lose color. "B-b-but that man just attacked you . . ."

"He never attacked me, Senpai!"

"B-b-but, you know . . ." He faltered, trying to find the right words to placate his furious daughter. "S-sometimes a rape victim falls in love with her rapist, and . . ."

"Wait, WHAT? What the hell does that have to do with it? He never raped me! He just overreacted to what I said, and then he tripped and fell over me, you idiot! I can't believe you would actually think like that!"

The transformation between the two parties got more and more drastic, as Tamaki shrank away from Haruhi's growing glare that rivaled the flames of Hades, turning the poor man as white as paper. In fact, to the twins who had just arrived at this critical juncture, it seemed as though Tamaki was the guilty defendant and Haruhi was the angry judge, jury and executioner. Slowly, so that neither party noticed they were there, the two tiptoed away from the scene as quietly as possible.

"B-b-b-but I . . . I . . . I thought he hurt you."

"He didn't. God, where did you get that idea?"

Right on cue, both parties turned to the instigators in question—the Hitachiin twins.

"Stop right there, you two!"

Both twins froze on the spot, mere feet away from exiting the scene of their demise, before turning their heads towards their colleague. The mere sight of an angry Haruhi made their knees quiver and turned their faces blue.

"That goes for you, too, Tamaki!"

And just like that, the Host Club King froze like a statue in the water, caught in his attempt to escape.

"Senpai, stop rushing to conclusions; it just might save you life!" Then to the twins. "And you two, you should stop egging him on!" Then she addressed all three delinquents like a drill sergeant. "Now I want you to apologize to that man over there, got it?"

Instantly, all three stood at attention and said, in unison, "Yes, ma'am!" and apologized to the victim of their shenanigans, almost prostrating themselves to his feet as though they were his supplicants.

The poetaster just stood there in shock, receiving their grave apologies with the embarrassment of an honored guest. "Uh, thank you . . . Um, you guys don't have to do that, though," he added, as all three took their deepest bows of humility over and over. "An honest apology is enough." Silence. "Wait a minute . . ." He then turned to Haruhi and said, "Ma'am? They called you, 'Ma'am'? Wait, are you a . . . a . . . girl?"

At this, the three male host club members turned into statues, while Haruhi was at a loss for words to explain. When the three men turned to their female host, they faced another of her glares that turned the bumbling morons to dust in a non-existent breeze.

"Yeah, I am a girl," she said, turning to the poet.

"Uh . . . Dare I ask why you're dressing in a man's uniform?"

"Oh, it's nothing serious. It's just that circumstances require me to dress this way," she said, downplaying the fact that she had an ¥8,000,000 debt to pay off from her misadventure with an antique vase. So she changed the subject. "Anyway, I hope you don't report these men to the dean's office. It would be really bad for the club activities we're hosting."

"Don't worry, I won't do that. Besides, it was all just a misunderstanding anyway, so I have no reason for turning them in. Oh, and I . . . Um . . . About that part where I lost my balance and fell on top of you . . . I, uh . . ." he said, blushing at the fact that he had cupped a woman's breast. "I'm sorry about the moment when I . . . Well . . . You know . . ."

At first, none of the hosts knew what he was talking about, but Haruhi caught onto his drift soon enough. "Oh, that, well, be careful next time. If it had been with another girl, you would have gotten into a lot of trouble, but I'll let it slide, since I know it was an accident."

Luckily for the poet, Tamaki and the Hitachiin twins didn't pick up on the implied meaning of their conversation.

"Okay, thank you," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Oh, and about your gender, I won't tell about that if you don't want me to."

"Oh, no, that's all right. You could tell whoever you want. Just not to any of our costumers, because that would be kind of . . . inconvenient if they knew," she said, taking care not to allude to her debt. "Anyway, about your writing—"

"Oh, about that . . . Well, it's just a hobby of mine. It's nothing serious, really," the boy said. "I just write whenever I feel like it, that's all."

"Well, if you're looking for a better place to write, maybe you could try the Third Music Room during our club activities. I think that would give you the inspiration you're looking for in your poetry."

At the word 'poetry', Tamaki and the twins looked at the boy. They've heard of him before, though their memories were a bit sketchy after today's mix-up.

As for the poet, he blushed at the mention of his poetry. Dear God, she knows! How much did she read before I took it off her hands? Oh, God, she must think I'm a really terrible poet. "Uh, wouldn't that interfere with your club activities?"

"Not at all. In fact, I think the customers in our club would like to have a poet to talk to—you know, just to mix things up a little bit and make things more interesting? What do you say?"

"Uh . . . Okay. I mean, it couldn't hurt to find new sources of inspiration, would it? I'll take you up on that! Well . . ." And he turned to the the three male host club members. "If that's all right with you, gentlemen, that is."

Tamaki and the twins were about to voice their protests in the interests of protecting Haruhi's secret from the host club clientele, but Haruhi's glare changed their minds.

"It's fine by us, sir," they all said in unison, all three feeling the backs of their necks burn from Haruhi's menacing glare.

"By the way, what's you're name?" asked Haruhi.

"Oh, pardon me for not introducing myself when I first met you. I'm Ruzaki Toyoda," he said, making his first proper introduction to his new acquaintances.

Apparently, that's all it took to jog the memories of the three male hosts. At the mention of that name, all the hosts except for Haruhi stared at Ruzaki with wide-eyed amazement as they beheld another notorious member of Ouran Academy.

3:35 p.m. at the Third Music Room saw all the hosts and Ruzaki gathered around a table with everyone standing except for Kyoya and Ruzaki. While Kyoya typed something on his Pineapple computer and reviewed the printouts of an impromptu dossier, Ruzaki sat opposite from him, leaning back on his chair and feeling nervous.

"I've heard a lot about you, Ruzaki Toyoda. You're the second son of Akio Toyoda, who is the current president and CEO of the Toyota Motor Corporation," Kyoya said, checking off the facts of Ruzaki's connections and life. "Your older brother, Akira Toyoda, works as as assistant engineer in the corporation after graduating as a valedictorian from Keio University, the same university your father attended, while you have gained quite a reputation for defying your father's wishes here at Ouran Academy. Just before your tenure in the South Campus, you had a falling out with your father at the dean's office when you disputed the major your father wanted for you, opting for an English Lit. degree instead of a law degree. Since then, he has all but disowned you, relegating your living quarters away from the Toyoda mansion at Toyota City, in Aichi Prefecture, to one of the smaller family mansions near Bunkyo, Tokyo. Once a month, he allocates just ¥100,000 for your living expenses, just high enough to meet the requirements of a commoner. As such, you are one of the least active members of the English Literature Club, and by all accounts from your class conduct and general disposition amongst the studentry of this school, you are soft-spoken and deferential to authority in all matters, except for that one matter with your father for which you have shown no inclination for compromise. I dare say, that makes you almost as notorious as Haruhi."

Ruzaki looked at the cross dresser standing at Kyoya's right side before returning to the man. "Why's she notorious? Is it because she's posing as a guy?"

"Nobody outside this conference is aware of Haruhi's true gender, and we plan on keeping it that way. No, she's notorious for being the only scholarship student from humble origins in the entire campus with enough nerve to attend this school. Her financial position is similar to your own with your father, though she was born a commoner, while your actions landed you on the cusp of a family disgrace."

"I'm not a disgrace!"

"I'm not suggesting that you are; I'm only stating the facts as I see them," Kyoya said, before he continued on. "Now because of the trouble Tamaki caused you earlier, I've temporarily taken over the duties allocated to him as acting Host Club King and delayed the usual opening of this club twenty minutes past the usual time. After talking the matter over with Haruhi, I will let you take part in this club's activities to help you in your poetic endeavors. All I ask of you is that you don't reveal the names of our clients to any of your associates in the English Literature Club, or reveal Haruhi's true gender to anyone outside of this conference. Now do you agree to these terms?"

After hearing his life splayed out on a platter for the others to scrutinize, Ruzaki became more and more uncomfortable under the steely gaze of the Shadow King. He had heard a lot about the third son of the Ootori Medical zaibatsu, including but not limited to Kyoya's cut-throat intelligence and mafiosi-like connections; thus, his first five minutes with Kyoya made his palms sweat. I'd hate to be around him when he's angry, he thought, but he nevertheless agreed to his terms.

"Good," Kyoya said, "but you sill perplex me. Given the current state with your finances and with your father, why did you do it? More important, why do you persist in defying your father?"

At first, he was tongue-tied, so he took the short answer—silence.

When Ruzaki stayed silent, Kyoya prodded him with another question. "Surely, your father knows what's best for you, doesn't he?"

"No, he doesn't."

"Are you sure? A position in his company would have you much better off than what you could manage on your own."

"It's not about money. I can care less about following in my brother's footsteps, let alone my father's."

Everyone around the table looked at Ruzaki with varying degrees of surprise on their faces, from Mori's imperceptible reactions to the Hitachiin twins' looks of perplexity to everyone else's look of undisguised amazement. Even Kyoya, the money-man of the host club, couldn't help but look at the man as though he had a screw loose in his head somewhere.

"Then why are you doing it, if not for money?" Kyoya said.

"Money isn't everything. I know that if I follow in my father's footsteps, I will be in my brother's shadow for as long as I live, and I'd be wasting my life on something I'd rather not do."

"So you know what you don't want to do. But what do you want to do? What do you want to be?"

"God, you sound like my homeroom teacher! What the hell does that have to do with you?"

At this, a little bit of the demon in Kyoya surfaced through his eyes in a flash, barely enough time to register any change in his facial expression, but it was enough to spook everyone except for Mori around the table, including Ruzaki, who fidgeted in his chair. In fact, he felt his heart skip a beat.

Kyoya was about to say something caustic, when Haruhi intervened and whispered something in his ear, which made his features relax and regain more of his charming self. "A poet? Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"

Ruzaki couldn't answer that either, because he didn't know why he couldn't answer, so he just stayed mute.

"Once again, Ruzaki, why do you want to be a poet?"

Silence on Ruzaki's part. Then he said, "I want to be remembered for something other than what my father has for me."

"So in other words, you want to become a poet, so you won't have to work in your father's company—is that right?"

"That's right," he said, looking down.

"Then you're not being true to yourself."

Ruzaki looked up at that statement, meeting Kyoya's eyes for the first time in the interview. "What do you mean by that?"

"Look at everyone around you. Everyone in this room, except you, knows what they want to do after they graduate from this school."

"And what does that have to do with it?"

"It has everything to do with it," Kyoya said. "Everything you've told me, thus far, makes me believe that you only want to become a poet, because you don't want to become like your brother or your father."

"But I do have the heart of a poet, whether you believe me or not!"

"It's not about what I believe, or what your father believes, or what anybody else believes. It's about what you believe. You might have the heart of a poet, but that heart is in the wrong place."

"And what do you know about poetry? You're a host, not a poet."

"In every host, there is a poet. I know this far more than you do, and so does everyone else in this room. Poetry is more than just rhyme, meter and scansion. There's a human element to poetry, in which we express our feelings to others (whether it's joy, sadness, excitement, or love) and have them feel as we feel—feel as we want them to feel for their pleasure and for our satisfaction. If you want to become a true poet, Toyoda, you must become a host of this club for the rest of this week. In that time, you will observe how we impress the ladies and apply those observations in your writing. If you can move someone's heart in person, face to face, you can move that person's heart on the page. Now I hope I made myself clear."

At first, Ruzaki couldn't speak; Kyoya's words, so artfully composed and so eloquently delivered, dissipated his will to speak the moment he realized the meaning behind his argument. So he said, "I understand."

"Good. You'll begin as soon as this club opens for business, which is . . ."—and here he checked his watch—"five minutes from now. As for the plans of this week, Tamaki and I decided on poetry as this week's theme. As such, the topics will whet the poetic appetites of our guests, from Basho, Dante, Shakespeare and Milton to Wordsworth, Byron and Keats and more."

"And it will end with a poetry recital," added Tamaki, all smiles with his sparkly panache that would send many of his customers swooning into his arms, "of our very own poetic creations to our guests."

The hapless poet turned around in his chair and looked at Tamaki, still all smiles and still full of his poetic reveries, and said, "A . . . poetry recital?"

"Yes," said Tamaki. "We'll show our poetic prowess to the world!"

At those words, Ruzaki's face turned blue. "In front of people?"

"Why, yes." The man stopped his reveries when he noticed Ruzaki's nervous face. "Why, what's wrong? Did I say something to offend you?"

The Hitachiin twins, standing on either side of Ruzaki, got in his face and said, in unison, "Do you have stage fright?"

Without even acknowledging it in words, Ruzaki confirmed their suspicions in action, sweating at the temples and grabbing at his knees to keep them from shaking.

"Yep," they said, "just as we thought. This guy's a wallflower, Boss," referring to Kyoya instead of Tamaki, thereby giving another cheap shot to their deposed king that sent the former king to the farthest corner of the room to sulk and grow mushrooms.

While Tamaki preoccupied himself with mushroom agriculture, Kyoya said, "Ah, I was wondering why you were so nervous."

At this, Ruzaki gulped.

"As for you two," Kyoya continued, indicating the twins with a glare of his own, "since you instigated Tamaki into attacking this man, you two must share the consequences."

The Shadow King's words roused Tamaki from his lonely corner with a flash of vengeance in his eyes, dashing up to the conference table and intimidating the hell out of the twins to great effect, till Kyoya dashed his hopes.

"That goes for you, as well, Tamaki. Even though you didn't start it, your actions are unjustified." Here, Kyoya rested both elbows on the table, clenched his hands together as though he was praying and looked up at the trio of troublemakers with another demonic flash over his glasses, and said, "Now I could disallow all three of you from entertaining your customers for the rest of this week, but that wouldn't be practical for the expenses of this club. Therefore, I'll let you have your customers, but on one condition: all three of you must help Ruzaki Toyoda overcome his stage fright. If you fail to help him, I will report all three of you to the dean's office. And if you think I'm bluffing, I'm not; I've already got the video evidence stored in my laptop, just one email away from the Chairman."

All color drained out of their faces, as they stood there gaping at the sheer unfathomable evil of the Shadow King.

"H-h-how can you be so cruel?" they all said, in unison and in utter gut-wrenching shock.

"Oh, it's not my idea. It was Haruhi's."

The shell-shocked trio looked at Haruhi, whose lips curled into the most evil smile ever to grace a woman's face. Thus, overcome by the sheer magnitude of it all, they did the only sensible thing any man could do in their position.

They fainted.

(To be continued...)

A/N: Anyway, in writing this chapter I've learned a LOT about the Japanese school system as well as the basic ins and outs of the characters. God, I HOPE none of the characters are OOC! Also, I hope Ruzaki isn't too much of a self-inserted Mary Sue. I don't want him to hog all of the spot light, just share it with the Host Club.