Summary: When Dani's estranged father whisks her away from impoverished Mexico City Mexico to glittering Tokyo Japan, she finds a whole other world awaiting her. However when she's cruelly beaten by jealous classmates from St. Lobelia's School for Girls, her father decides the only way she'll be safe is if she is hidden in plain sight. But when you're a remarkably talented and good-looking "boy" at Ouran Academy, nothing goes as planned, especially when a certain club decides that you're their newest friend. MorixOC. Lots of shenanigans and friendship.

I, sadly, do not own Ouran. If I did, Dani would be real.

Prologue:

Hell of Lobelia

Or

Se Vuol Ballare, Signore Contino

I'm a little afraid Dad will blow a gasket and say something he's going to regret. As it is, the chairman doesn't look too pleased to see Dad nearly purple with anger and in his face, accusing one of his star students of bullying, stalking, harassment, and abuse. I'm just sitting quietly, hoping that it's over soon. I want to go back home and ice my head.

"How can you deny the evidence before you!" Dad demands, gesturing towards me and slamming a fist on the desk. I wince. The chairman inspects me passively through his glasses. I don't see how he can still deny it, but apparently he is. My arm has a heavy deep-bone bruise and is in a sling, I have a large bruise on my cheekbone, stitches in the back of my head (where large chunks of what was once long, beautiful chestnut hair, my one and only vanity, have been shaved off) and across my hairline and on my forehead. There is a brace on my knee and gauze wrapping my wrist which throbs, but doesn't seem to have anything wrong with it other than being stretched too far. I look like I have just come back from war.

"Oh, lovely maiden, you must be lost. Let Benibara assist such a delicate flower," a voice behind me said, making me jump. I instinctively drew my fist back, ready for a punch. But when I saw it was another girl, seemingly harmless, I stopped, and lowered my arm.

"Oh, okay then. Thanks," I said, relieved, but weirded out. She's a little intimidating. And where did she learn to speak so? I was thinking.

"I am Benio Amakusa, Lady of the Red Rose. And it is my honor to meet such a wonderful and beautiful new student. Don't be afraid, I'm sure that the Zuka club will make you feel quite at home," Benio murmured seductively, and kissed my hand. I immediately let go.

"Dios mio," I whispered in Spanish, while trying to discreetly wipe my hand on my skirt.

"Impossible. It's absolutely impossible," the chairman scoffs. Dad looks as if he's going to strangle him. I put my hand on his shoulder, just in case. Not that I'll be able to do anything. What would I—a slim seventeen-year-old girl—do to prevent my father (who is six foot, strong, and built) from beating this man to a pulp?

"She has no cause to lie! How else did she get hurt like this?" Dad roars. The chairman shrugs nonchalantly.

"She may have been the bully and is now looking for sympathy," he replied. My mouth drops open.

"Excuse me!" Dad says in a low, dangerous voice. I hear thunder rumbling threateningly outside. "Are you implying that my daughter takes part in ridiculing and hurting other people out of pure spite!"

"It is possible."

"I demand a full refund of the tuition I paid, including books, uniforms, and any other expenses," Dad says, the tone in his voice final.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Mr. Oelrichs. She has already started classes here," the chairman scoffs. Dad's eyes narrow.

"Danica Elizabeth, go wait outside," he growls. I obey without hesitation. Whenever he or my mother called me by my full first and middle names, I know that either I or someone else is in deep trouble.

Once outside the office, I take a seat in one of the expensive plush chairs, pulling a ski hat over my head so no one would see what happened to my hair. I hear Dad screaming at the chairman who begins protesting.

I just stare at my hands, hoping that this ordeal would be over and I'd never have to return to this hellhole again.

My name is Danica Peretti-Oelrichs, or just Dani, and until just a few minutes ago, I was enrolled at St. Lobelia's School for Girls. A few months ago I was living in Mexico City with my mother, and then all of a sudden, my father appeared out of nowhere to sweep me away with him to Japan. I won't pretend it wasn't a culture shock. Learning a language so different from the English, Spanish, and Italian I already knew was hard enough, but Dad gave me a choice. Stay in Mexico City with my mother, his ex-wife he was forced to divorce, and maybe never amount to much, or go with him to Japan. Dad is exceedingly wealthy. His family is one of the oldest, most well-known in the United States of America. He is so rich that he could afford to start a branch of his company out here in Japan. So rich, in fact, that he could track down his forgotten daughter and take her to Japan with him, enrolling her into an elite school that turned out some of Japan's—not to mention the world's—greatest businessmen and leaders.

There really didn't seem to be much of a choice. I could languish forever in Mexico where the drug wars were escalating, maybe even end up like my own mother, or I could try to do something with my life and go with my father whom I had never met before to a different country with different customs, different language, different everything. Dad left his second wife and two other, recognized children in America; they'd be joining him much later. His wife wanted his son to finish American middle school before moving. Better for me I suppose. I wouldn't have to deal with jealous half-siblings.

Dad immediately enrolled me into St. Lobelia's and for about a month and a half, everything seemed to be going alright.

"Ah! Another lovely flower, waiting to blossom has come for a chance!" Benio's voice echoed as I entered Zuka Club auditions. What seemed like the entire school turned simultaneously in their seats, staring at me. I gulped, and drained of color.

"Come! Do not be shy! You have talent, and wish to share it! And who knows, you might even be rewarded for your efforts," Benio pulled me against her chest, tilting me head up, making the fangirls go ballistic.

"Where did you come from? And why are you flirting with me?" I asked, confused to the next degree. Benio's face seemed to cloud over with anger, but it was gone so fast, I thought I may have imagined it.

"Come, my beautiful flower, show us what talent you have," and Benio shoved me up on the stage.

I stood, staring blankly. The sea of faces stared blankly back at me.

"Um, may I have a piano?" I asked in a small voice. A grand piano was immediately pulled onstage for me.

I sat down on the bench, rather nervous, but once my fingers touched the keys, the people seemed to melt away, and I was home again in Mexico, playing piano while my mother listened intently.

I began to sing, and while I did, I was remembering the harmonies that my mother created on the spot with her own voice. My voice rose and fell, and when I hit a note much higher than even Benio dared to go, whispers broke out. Then I finished singing, and stood. It was silent. Then the screaming fangirls mobbed the stage.

I was never sure if they liked me because I was different, or because I was talented. With fangirls, you could never know. But I became an instant celebrity, and soon the entire student mass was following me faithfully. Even Benio's most avid fangirls abandoned her to just be smiled at by me.

The instant fame was unnerving, I'll admit. I'd hoped to make friends, not worshippers. Everyone was obsessed with who they thought I was as a celebrity, not who I am as a person. It got really lonely at school, and Dad noticed.

It didn't get bad until Benio began to stalk me.

"Oh, maiden, at last I have found thee!" Benio announced as she burst into the bathroom where I was. I looked up completely shocked.

"Huh?"

"Your performances! Your beauty! Your air of confidence! Your American-ness!" Benio continued to gush. I looked around, searching for the person Benio was talking to. There was no one else there.

"Are you talking to me?" I asked, a confused frown on my face. Suddenly I was shoved against the wall, pinned by Benio's strong grip.

"Yes, I'm talking to you, you little wretch," she growled in my face. I was surprised, but not afraid. I grew up in the barrios of Mexico City, I can take damn good care of myself. So I'd like to see you try, I found myself thinking.

"And if you liked me so much, why are you threatening me?" I asked rather saucily. Benio slapped my face, hard.

"Listen well, you American dog. I'm the celebrity around here, and no American that can't even speak Japanese is taking that from me!" Benio whispered threateningly. I swiped her feet out from under her. Benio went down hard, and I stepped over her, fleeing the bathroom without a second glance.

That was around the end of May, a month after my seventeenth birthday, and I didn't have to encounter her much again. I took exams, was pronounced fluent in Japanese, and began looking at what courses I'd take the next semester.

It's almost the end of June now, and in a few days Lobelia's will let out for a month and a half of summer break. I would be excited if I had anyone to be excited about it with.

Dad opens the door and beckons for me to come back in again. Apprehensively, I stand and enter the office again, sitting next to my father.

Dad takes a deep breath and tells me in a measured voice, "The chairman would like to know exactly what happened."

I was waiting for my father's chauffeur to pick me up after school was out, and I had a bad feeling, a sense of foreboding if you will. Benio and the other two Zuka Club girls walked passed me, chuckling. Benio stopped, and leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"Come with us, fair maiden," she said seductively. I was wary, but stupidly followed.

Behind the gymnasium, Benio slammed me hard against the side of the brick building. Shocked, I fell to the ground, clutching the back of my head, where I felt warm, sticky blood gushing. I struggled to remain conscious.

But the onslaught only got worse. Feet and fists contacted everywhere they could reach, and then two people, Hinako and Chizuru, stopped hitting to pull Benio off of the barely conscious me.

"If you even think about telling anyone, I'll make it so none of your family will ever be able to sing again," Benio threatened. Then everything went black.

"Can you identify the girls you're accusing?" the chairman asks rather uncomfortably. I nod.

"Benio Amakusa, Chizuru Maihara, Hinako Tsuwabuki," I answer firmly. He looks uncomfortable and starts muttering about model students, star pupils, and more cacas. Dad stands suddenly.

"Either I get a full and entire refund with interest, or I will sue this school, you the chairman, and the students responsible. I can make several lawsuits, and you won't have two yen to your name or this school when I'm through," he threatens. Even though he's an American, Dad has so much money and social standing that he wouldn't have a problem following through. The name "Oelrichs" is very old; the family wealth runs back at least two hundred years. Dad is old money, and makes plenty of the new money too. The chairman drains of color.

"You're refund will be completed within the week, sir," he says meekly. Dad smirks.

"Good." And he marches me out of the room.

In the limo, Dad is looking pensive. "What are you thinking about, Dad?" I ask him. He looks at me slowly, as if coming out of a reverie.

"How to keep this from happening again. St. Lobelia is a reputable school, closely tied with many of the other elite schools I'd consider sending you to."

"Like which ones?"

"Tokyo School for the Gifted, Ouran Academy, Performing Arts Institute, Ohyama High School, Blessed Mother Teresa School for Girls…"

"A Catholic School? In Japan?"

"Believe it or not. Perhaps I should send you to Ouran. It's closer to home, about five blocks. And it's co-ed with a middle and elementary school attached. Perhaps I'll look into that one."

We fall into silence for the rest of the drive.

I can only hope that the Lobelia girls won't be able to track me down wherever I am.

Hi there!

This fic has been in the works for about two years, and finally I think it's ready to be posted. I love Ouran, but I am very wary of OCs, only because sometimes they can be a bit more difficult to develop. But that's what my fic Zelda Enchanted is for, basically.

(If any of my readers for Zelda Enchanted are reading this I PROMISE I WILL UPDATE IT! IT'S JUST VERY DIFFICULT!)

Anyway, this is the first installment of the Oelrichs Trilogy as my wonderful sister Selestyna Arpa364 calls it. After watching her slave over her story Short, I had to come back and work on Dani. And here she is.

Gratia Plena is Latin for "full of grace". You guys can speculate about that as much as you want. I'll tell you why it's named Gratia Plena at the end of the epilogue.

And one more thing, you'll notice there is a second title underneath the chapter titles which seems to be in a different language. It's a song, in this chapter's case, an aria from my favorite opera of all time, Le Nozze di Figaro. Listen to it and look up the translation and apply it to the chapter. I love analytical references. Listen to it while you read, it sets the mood.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you'll leave a review! Reviews make an author happy and more likely to update faster. :D True story.

Until next time, my friends!

~La Principessa Dell'Opera