Hey, just thought I'd put out a new story that doesn't involve magic or demons or any of the supernatural. =D Enjoy my Ouran High School Host Club story!
There I stood in Bunkyo, Tokyo, looking for a place which seemed to be impossible to find—Ouran Academy. Scowling British, French, and Japanese men and women passed me, all wearing fancy designer clothes with their noses held high—frowning upon the foreigner that stood gawkily on the sidewalk wearing worn jeans, an overly large plain white tee shirt, and a Dogers baseball cap.
"Excuse me, sir, are you lost?" A middle aged man asked. He had a heavy French accent.
I frowned. "I'm not a man," I snapped, my cheeks flushing. I don't blame him; my hair was cut quite short for a girl, my cap covered my face from an angle, and my shirt tented over any chest that I might have. "But yes, I am lost. Could you kindly point me in the direction of Ouran Academy?"
He scratched his chin. "Eh, it's that way." He pointed off to my left, toward a castle-like building. "May I ask where you are from? Not around here, I presume."
I smiled kindly. "No, I am from California. I'm looking for someone… but nonetheless, thank you for helping me, sir."
"No problem, miss."
I looked at the small rectangular photo I held in my hands. I would find him, no matter how long it took. I needed to find my brother.
I suppose I should explain myself.
My brother attended the prestigious Ouran Academy, and from what I had been told, he was now a junior. We had the same mother, but he had no clue I existed. I was precisely four years younger than him—I was fourteen as of next month. My mother shipped me and my twin sister away to my father's house in California about a year after I was born so I wouldn't interfere with her and her lover. My father treated us like nothing more than dirt on his shoe. We were scum to him. He didn't want mus, but he couldn't get rid of us. It was really a horrible situation. He constantly beat us and cussed at us. He would stay away from home for a few days, then come home drunk with a random woman every so often, then leave again. School was our only retreat, although it still wasn't the best situation. We stood out in the crowd as we were always bruised or cut up in some way, and our hair was rarely longer than my ears. We looked like boys. And even worse, we had no friends. We kept to each other, and formed a shield against all those who tried to befriend us. No one could ever tell us apart—we were identical down to every freckle, every scar.
Then one horrible day when we were nine, my twin and I were walking home from school. It was a rainy day. The rain was so thick that we couldn't see through it as we crossed the street. She looked up suddenly, and slammed her hands into me, propelling me yards in front of her. Two seconds later, a truck slammed into her, killing her on impact. The truck was my father's.
My mother came and picked me up one month later. I had lost half of my body weight—making me look anorexic as I was no more than skin and bones, my eyes were always rimmed in purple bruises, and my hair was gray in small streaks. I looked like the living dead. She screamed when she saw me, and slapped my father across the face, asking where my twin was. He told her she was dead. My mother stuffed all of my belongings into the nearest bag and scooped me up into her arms, and brought me to the hotel room she was staying in a few miles away. I never saw my father again.
So here I stood now, five years later, in Tokyo looking for my brother. I had applied to Ouran Academy hoping for a scholarship, and I had gotten in. Apparently my grades had racked up to a perfect A+, so it was no question as to why they let me in.
I held a black duffel bag in my left hand, the picture in my right, and a little folded up letter in the back pocket of my jeans that my mother had written for me to give to my brother. I stared at the photo. I looked very similar to my brother, or at least what he used to look like. The photo was four years old, and he might look different. In the photo he had blond hair, cut and colored identically to mine, dark blue eyes that contrasted my large mint-green eyes, and smooth pale features that matched mine exactly. Even I, who had never met him, could say that we were brother and sister. I wondered if my sister would have thought the same as I, but I would never get to know.
A truck full of loud teenagers passed me. I would never get used to the alternate way of driving on the left side of the street. It was just too unnatural for me, along with the steering wheel on the alternate side of the car.
I walked slowly along the sidewalk humming a little tune to myself that I had heard a woman singing in the subway back at home. It was a sweet tune, and I had taken the time to write it down and turn it into piano song. It was very beautiful with the flowing melody and the tinkling bridge right before the soft finish. It had been recorded and posted to my YouTube page, along with dozens of other hand-written songs. Piano was a simple side-hobby I had, but what I really wanted was to be an author when I grew up.
A half an hour later, I was sitting in the headmaster's office.
"So Alex, you will be in class 1-A, starting tomorrow," he told me. He had a deep bass voice tainted with an English accent, thinning sand-colored hair, and piercing blue eyes.
I nodded. "Thank you, sir." I nodded my head in a simple thank-you.
"Have I seen you before? You remind me of a boy here. What was his name…?"
I smiled. "I think I know his name; René Tamaki Richard de Grandtaine, otherwise known as Tamaki Suoh."
He nodded his head. "So you know him?"
"You could say that. Sir, what time should I come to school tomorrow?"
"Come at seven tomorrow if you wish for me to show you around the school before anyone gets here."
"Thank you, I would appreciate that greatly. May I ask if there is a music program at the school?"
"Sadly, there is not. But there are empty music rooms for you to practice in, if you wish. They have pianos in each one."
My smile grew wider. "Perfect. And one more question before I go, do I have to wear the girl's uniform, or can I wear the boy's?"
"You may wear either one. Do you not like the girl's one?"
"No, sir. I wouldn't wear a dress if my life was on the line. I detest them."
He chuckled. "No problem then, you can just wear the boy's uniform."
I bowed slightly. "Thank you, sir." I picked up my duffel bag and left the room.
As it was Sunday, the school was empty. I stopped at the student store and picked up the boy's uniform in my size—XS on my lean, thin frame—and continued on my way.
I was staying in a little apartment complex about a block away by myself. I had been left fifty thousand dollars in my personal bank account by my dad, and the school paid the monthly costs on my apartment, as I was on a scholarship. The scholarship included yearly payment for the school, and housing for students if their houses were too far away to go to daily. I had a little side-job as the piano player in a local fancy restaurant that only millionaires could pay for to cover any extra costs, such as food, clothes, and anything else I needed.
The little apartment was light and airy—it had a homey feel to it. One entire wall was made of glass. You could see little lit up stores glowing in the night light, and the stone clock tower ticking away. To the left of it stood Ouran Academy. The walls of the apartment were light blue, and the floor in all parts of the apartment except the bathrooms and bedroom were made of deep stained wood. The carpet in the bedroom was fluffy and sand-colored, while the bathroom had white tile. The apartment was furnished well too—a dark leather couch sat in front of a glass coffee table and a fifty-five inch flat screen TV perched on a glass display case in the family room; a dark mahogany dining table surrounded with eight tables in the dining room and a bookshelf against the wall; stainless steel appliances in the kitchen; and best of all, a king-sized bed covered in fluffy white pillows and a matching down comforter, a long wooden dresser, and a sixty-inch flat screen on the wall above it. Cream white curtains hung against the all glass wall, and a full-sized mirror stood in the corner. A little door in linked to the spacious bathroom, which consisted of a porcelain toilet, marble sink, wooden cabinet, a Jacuzzi tub, and best of all, one of those showers that has spouts in all directions.
My apartment was heaven.
I took some time and folded all of my clothes nicely in to the drawers in my bedroom. I looked at the clock and saw that it was barely seven thirty at night, but I still had jet lag. I stripped my clothes off and threw them into the drawer, and crawled into bed in my undergarments as I was too tired to go hunting for my pajamas in the now neatly folded drawer. I ran my fingers through my short, shaggy, blonde hair and reached for the TV remote. I flipped through the channels, and landed on a TV station showing my favorite anime of all time—Black Butler. I fell asleep listening to Sebastian's smooth Japanese voice.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
I rolled over and smacked the off button on my clock. The clock read that it was 6 a.m. Time to get up. I groaned to myself and tried to pull myself up, but epically failed due to my low blood pressure issues.
"One more try," I told myself.
I got myself up and crawled into the kitchen and made myself a cup of hot coffee. I sipped the bitter liquid for a few minutes then went to look myself in the mirror.
My ribs showed on my chest, my collar bone poked at my skin too, and the skin was taut over my joints. I hadn't put on much weight since my sister died—I stood at 5'0" and weighed 80 lbs.
I took a well-deserved shower and shampooed my hair with my favorite peach-scented shampoo, then got out and towel dried myself. My hair stuck up in random places all over my head, but it looked perfectly presentable. I didn't bother to put on any makeup, as I owned none. Makeup was stupid, like dresses and skirts. I scavenged up my uniform and pulled it on. The crisp white dress shirt sat well on my small frame, and the sky blue jacket complimented my green eyes. I loosened the tie around my neck, and switched out the black dress pants for faded black skinny jeans. I also switched the black dress shoes for my high-top black Converse. The outfit screamed Sophisticated with a rebel streak. But it was missing one thing…
I put on my blue Dogers baseball hat, and it completed the look.
I brushed my teeth and grabbed my black Jansport backpack—already loaded with my schoolbooks, pencils, pens, and notebooks—and scrambled out the door.
It was only 6:45. I was early, for once. I walked slowly in the thick morning fog, and arrived at the school in no time.
I bit at my unpolished nails nervously. Would the people stare? I had always been afraid when people stared at me, not knowing what they were thinking, always assuming that they hated me. I ran a finger down the smooth pink scar that ran down my left cheek sadly. It was the only reminder of my sister that I had.
The headmaster stood waiting at the front doors to the huge hallway. "Ah, good morning Alex. Ready for your tour?"
I nodded my head hesitantly. "Yes, sir." I fingered the picture and letter in my pocket nervously.
He led me through the school quickly, showing me the various classrooms. He stopped at the 1-A homeroom. "Well, here you go. You can go explore if you want. Classes start at 7:30."
I looked at my watch. It was 7:10.
"Thank you, sir."
He walked away slowly, whistling what sounded like Greensleeves.
I took my backpack and walked aimlessly around the halls, until I came to an end. A sign hung above a tall door that read, Third Music Room. Yes! Just what I had wanted.
I opened the door and stepped inside. The room smelled of roses, and a large black grand piano sat in the middle of the room. I walked over to it and sat down, dropping my backpack at my feet. I mindlessly played the song that I knew best—the song the lady had been singing in the subway station, which I had named my sister's song—Alice's Song.
I closed my eyes and let my fingers slide flawlessly over the keys.
"Well well, who do we have here, Kaoru?" a voice sounded from the doorway. My eyes snapped open and I turned to the sound of the voice.
"Yes, who is in our club room, Hikaru?" another voice asked.
Two boys stood at the doorway—twins. They looked to be at least seventeen years old, both had bright red hair, and were completely identical. I felt a pang of sadness inside of me.
"I'm sorry," I said, snatching my backpack from the floor. "I didn't know that this is your club room. Please excuse me."
They grinned identical smiles. "You don't have to leave, your piano playing was quite beautiful. You can continue, if you want."
I smiled at them shyly. "Thanks." I held out a hand. "I'm Alex."
The one on the left took my hand first. "I'm Hikaru."
Then the one on the right shook my hand. "And I'm Kaoru. You're not from around here. Where are you from?" They both had voices peppered with English accents.
"California. I just transferred here."
"I guessed," Hikaru said. "I've never seen you around here before."
"And you play piano very well," Kaoru said. "Better then Tamaki."
Wait—they knew Tamaki?
"You know Tamaki?" I asked, now very excited.
"Yeah, why?" they asked in unison.
"I've been looking for him. It's very important that I meet him."
"Why? A boy like you doesn't need his services."
I chuckled. "No no, it's a personal matter."
"Then let this personal matter be settled," another voice said. A different voice.
A tall blonde boy with deep blue eyes appeared at the doorway behind Hikaru and Kaoru. He was very handsome with his flawless skin, and straight pearly teeth.
He was my brother, Tamaki Suoh.