Micah's POV

I sat, winded from ungodly amounts of physical exertion, against the sliding door of Honey's dojo, which led out to the oddly picturesque rock garden, well-kept by the gardeners. Hugging my knees to my chest, I watched the waning sun trailing across the sky.

Damn. Honey had been long enough for me to actually find perfection in a fiery ball of gas some ninety-three million miles away.

He'd gone to change after practice (I opted to remain in my gi for whatever lazy reason) so we could rehearse some lines together. Today had been our first offical rehearsal for Peter Pan, considering our first meeting had only been for the cast to get to know one another.

An interesting point-of-reference: I met Renge, the self-proclaimed manager of the Host Club, and fellow otaku. She was directing the play, something that hadn't surprised my friendly third-years in the least. I'd wanted to ask where their opinion of her came from, but decided against it.

I was afraid the club's past escapades without me might be worse than what I'd gone through.

I adjusted my headband as I recalled how well the rehearsal had played out. The cast clicked instantly, giving me a lovely first impression of them all. Hard working, strong-willed professionals, they were. Personally I was very proud to be a part of this production.

Strands of hair kept falling onto my sweaty forehead despite just how many times I fixed my headband back into place. Sighing, I gave up and flopped onto my back, arms spread across the cool wooden patio sprawling out from inside the dojo. A brisk wind swept over me, a prelude to the night air, tenderly blowing the hair from my eyes. I couldn't help the grin stretching my lips; it really was beautiful here, Japan in general and Honey's home if I'm being specific.

As my eyes began to drift closed, lulled into a heavy tiredness by the tranquility of the afternoon, footsteps echoed softly from just inside. Mori, dressed casually in a fitted black t-shirt and light khaki pants, leaned out of the doorway, looking around a moment before his obsidian eyes settled on my exhausted form.

I managed a small, closed-lip smile at him.

"How's Honey coming along?" I asked, more to break the silence than to satiate my curiosity.

"He won't be long," Mori replied; the soft closed-eye smile on his face made me feel as though my heart skipped a beat. Perhaps it was because, with the golden light radiating throughout the garden and the breath of wind that ruffled his short hair like caressing fingers, he looked as close to perfection as I'd yet to see. I swallowed thickly, nodding to show I'd heard, then proceeded to fiddle with the bleach-white belt around my waist.

The soft footsteps drew closer, and I angled slightly to see Mori fold down to crouch beside me. His watchful eyes looked out over the garden, perceptive as the jungle cat he so reminded me of. What it was about Mori that seemed so predatory wasn't obvious. He was easily the gentlest host when the occasion for it arose; his many detours to help me were evidence enough. Still, he was nothing short of a tiger - perhaps one so fierce for protecting kin.

My gaze must have lingered longer than I'd realized, because his eyes slid to the corners, just enough to put me in his line of sight. His brow rose.

"Er... I, uh, I didn't mean--"

"Mi-chan~! How do you feel about going to Switzerland~?"

I was saved from further humiliation by Honey, hopping out seemingly from nowhere, and nearly scaring my raven hair bleached-white when his sneakered feet suddenly slapped down two inches from my side. I jumped accordingly, a hand clawing at my heart to make sure it still beat properly.

Tilting his head to the side, Honey observed my reaction and giggled apologetically. "Sorry, Mi-chan! I didn't mean to scare you! But! Switzerland?!"

"Sw-Switzerland?" I managed between panting breaths; it didn't help to know that Mori was silently chuckling at how flustered Honey'd made me.

Honey bobbed his head, throwing his arms wide in his excitement. "Takashi and I are going to Switzerland during summer break! We just decided today, and we wanted to invite you! Please, Mi-chan~? It won't be any fun without you!" 

My head swam a bit, trying to keep pace with his chirpy voice. Switzerland? They were going to Switzerland for summer? When was that, anyway? I'd forgotten that the customs here in Japan were invariably different from those of the US. For instance, their summer was much shorter and came earlier than the one I was used to. Honey asking me to accompany him and Mori meant that summer was close, no? 

After it was all processed and stored correctly in my frazzled mind, I smiled softly, eyes bright with a joy that came from knowing you, despite all faults and points to the contrary, were wanted. "I haven't got anything planned," I told him, recalling how I'd promised to remain in Japan over the summer so as to gain more from this "cultural experience" when it was announced I'd be attending Ouran for the rest of my high school career. My mom and dad wouldn't mind if I went off with friends. They probably wouldn't have believed me, but that was emotional baggage to sort out another day. "So, yes, I'll come. How could I say no to my favorite rabbit-carrying host?"

Needless to say, Honey squealed like an over-excited child and tackle-hugged me to the ground, where I was - as always - rescued by Mori lifting the tiny third-year out of reach. When calm was regained, I joined Honey back in the dojo, where he'd already layed out our scripts. Just as I was settling down, script in hand, absently flicking through the short scenes for anything of paritcular interest, Honey abruptly paused, eyes growing wide.

"Wha--"

"Mi-chan! Your phone!" Ignoring my half-asked question, he scampered over to where my things lay unattended in a corner of the room and hastily dug through my things. Any other host (besides Mori, maybe) and I would have been hurling obscenties at them for poking through my personal space; with Honey I shrugged it off and went back to reading through the script while he found what he was rummaging for.

"Two missed calls!" he announced, shoving the cell phone into my face. I blinked. Alright. There was the rather annoying blinking light displaying two calls I hadn't picked up for. The phone must've been too muffled in my backpack for me to hear it go off. "Who was it?" Honey asked curiously.

"My... dad." My brow furrowed. Just what did he keep trying to call me for? I sighed. This wouldn't get resolved unless we contacted each other. I pulled up my contacts and called him. Two rings. A click. Then some metallic female voice telling me the number was unreachable at this time. Ugh. You just call me and then turn off your phone before I can call you back? Just how damn absent-minded are you, Dad? I huffed, blowing the ever-growing bangs from my eyes. 

"It's probably nothing," I assured them as I shuffled over to my bag, zipping the phone back into the side pocket. I rejoined Honey, flipping open to a random page to start practice. 

Honey's face remained etched with worry. I felt my ears burning with shame. He was worried for me, and yet I kept denying there were any problems, when he clearly didn't believe a word of it. But I didn't want to admit to myself that something might be wrong at home. What was the point? If my dad wanted to tell me something, he'd make himself available. There was nothing else to it.

"Oh? It looks like they've changed the original script a little," I mumbled, rereading the last scene over to make sure I hadn't gotten something wrong the first time. No, I was right. Here, they actually outright told you that Peter fell in love with Wendy. How nice. I'd be playing the love interest of one of my best friends. Not awkward at all. 

Honey, finally shifting back into his cherub-like self, grinned at the mention. "I like the new script!" he giggled; I quirked a brow when I noticed Mori looking at Honey oddly. I didn't want to dismiss it as nothing, but with Honey being his overbearingly cute self, it took a back seat to his amusement. "I think it'll be cute!"

"I suppose..." Unconvinced, I helplessly shrugged and picked a line at random to start from. It was towards the very end of the play, where Wendy was deciding whether or not she should return home with her family. As I spoke, I realized just how hard a decision like that must have been for a girl in love and a girl so utterly content with her life. "I... I suppose this means goodbye...." I looked at Honey bashfully, a hint of tears gathering in the corner of my eyes. 

He smiled serenly, with the air of one full of confidence and hope. "You shouldn't say that," he said, reaching out take my hand with one of his own; with the other, he marked his spot on the page, making sure he knew what lines to read as we went. "Never say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting." My breathing nearly hitched when Honey's smile turned sad, soft and reluctant, yet every bit as radiant as the joy he normally expressed. "I don't want you to forget me, Wendy."

"Alright.... Then what shall I say instead? I've hardly had anyone tell me not say goodbye before..."

"How about... see you later? That sounds better, like you're planning to come back." Another sad, relucant smile.

"Whoever said I wasn't?" I offered a meager grin of my own, prompted to quell the anguish in "Peter's" heart. "Well, alright. See you later, Peter."

"See you later, Wendy."

At that moment, I had never been more eager to perform than in all my life. The play was going to be maginficent.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I blinked.

Blinked again.

Tilted my head to the side.

Nothing I did made the little girl struggling to reach the door handle disappear, so I thought it was safe to assume she wasn't a figment of my taxed imagination. "Eh, need some help there?"

She jumped, her golden hair spilling out around her, bouncing in the twin pigtails. She suddenly rounded on me, crystalline tears welling up in her blue-glass eyes. Damn. How many small people were going to bring me to my knees with cuteness?

I sighed and kneeled down, drawing the small girl closer to me with one hand at her wrist, the other brushing away her tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." A gracious smile tipped up the corners of my lips. "I'm Micah, by the way. What are you doing here all alone, little miss?"

Her face softened, the well of tears running dry, and a slow, bright smile nearly blinded me. "I'm Kirimi!" she announced, giggling. "I'm three!" Here she held up three chubby fingers. "And I'm looking for big brother!"

Big brother....? I glanced uncertainly at the door seperating us from the Host Club. Did any of them even have younger sisters? Tamaki certainly didn't, nor the Hitachiin twins. Honey and Mori only had younger brothers (whom I thought to be mismatched versions of the cousins themselves), and Haruhi.... well, if her own family considered her guise as a boy to be realistic at this point.... 

Kyouya, I wasn't sure about. I'd heard it mentioned that he had siblings, but as I recalled, they were both his seniors. Just as well; I wouldn't have to deal with any mini-politicians in the coming years at Ouran Academy.

So who's she talking about? I wondered silently, peering from Kirimi's hope-filled gaze to the door and back again. It's possible she got it wrong. I doubt he's even here. I mean, why is she alone in Ouran in the first place? Her parents might be here... Oh, to hell with it. They'll come looking for her eventually, and in the meantime, I bet the King of Darkness will have some information about her. So it was decided then.

I stood, bringing Kirimi into my arms, balancing her on my hip. I had many little cousins who loved to climb and trample all over me; this was heaven, comparitively, with just the one girl to care for.

"I'll help you find your brother," I promised the blonde with a small smile. She giggled in a agreement, her eyes alight with childish delight. I couldn't blame her, any more than I could blame myself for taking on such an asinine task. What was I thinking, exactly, promising to find one boy in all of Ouran, after the general populace had gone home for the day? 

Shrugging off my doubts, I pushed my way into the club room, calling out a subdued greeting as the door clicked shut behind me.

"Ah, Micah! You've arrived at last!" Tamaki swept into view, all flouncy golden locks and entrancing violet eyes. "Kyouya was looking for you, something about a fitting you failed to attend." When I paled, to the extent that I looked like the living-dead, Tamaki brightened and cupped my cheek, his face much too close for comfort. "Don't worry! Even though Mommy can be a scary tyrant, he wouldn't hurt his precious daughter!"

If Kyouya's ever actually thought of me as his daughter, I'm going to be sick.... again.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," I muttered, before remembering the bundle at my hip. One look told me Kirimi hadn't heard a word of the conversation: her wide, untained eyes scanned the room eagerly, no doubt on a mission to find her beloved brother. I was sure the search would prove fruitless, at least here, of all places. I let her be for a moment while I took in Tamaki's appearance.

He, like always, looked extravagant.

I just hadn't realized his extravagance extended to criminal justice.

Yes, it was, apparently, time for them to ridicule Japan's police force. They really were upstanding citizens, weren't they?

"Oh? Who's this? A lost little kitten?"

Tamaki smiled - though I doubt he realized it - seductively at poor little Kirimi. She looked unfazed, though, and simply pointed her hand, including the entirety of the Host Club in the gesture.

"Male harem?"

Here, I very well could have imagined Tamaki and the twins anime falling onto the merciless ground. Instead, he, after a moment's pause, tapped lightly at his ear, head cocked, as though trying to pound water from it. I missed his comment, too busy gaping at Kirimi's worldly knowledge, but heard Kaoru reply with, "Don't be silly, Inspector General. She's not Renge. A little girl like her could never utter an adult word like 'harem'."

As if just to contradict him, Kirimi raised her finger questioningly. "Debauchery?"

She then pointed to each host in turn.

Kyouya: "Megane?"

Honey: "Lolita?"

Mori: "Stoic?"

Haruhi: "Nerd?"

Twins: "Incest?"

Me: "Heroine!" I cringed at this, having it dawn on me just what we were being compared to. Whoever had chosen this girl's reading material should be locked in an institution.

And finally, Tamaki: "...." She paused, eyes widening, breathing slowed. Then she was lunging from my arms, straight into Tamaki's chest. "Brother?!"

Ah. That explained... nothing. Absolutely nothing.

_____________________________________

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It turned out that Tamaki wasn't Kirimi's missing brother, much to the relief and puzzlement of the rest of us. Though he did try to persuade us otherwise when her tears made a reappearance. Otherwise, the answer came to us rather easily.

"Neko-kun, you didn't tell me you had an adorable little sister!"

He chuckled humorlessly, waving round Beezlenef (which he wasn't even supposed to have), probably something of an unbreakable habit. "I found it embarrassing that my own sibling was scared witless by my appearance..."

I draped his purple cloak around his shoulders, making sure the hood shadowed his face. "It's not your fault," I assured him, clasping the cloak at the base of his neck.

Upon finding out that Kirimi was terrified of her brother, the twins had attempted to "help" by forcing his cloak and wig off him; and when that nearly killed Neko-kun, they tried to shut the blinds to darken the room, only to find out that the one thing that frightened Kirimi more than her brother was the relentless darkness he so loved.

Such a strained relationship these two endured.

Kirimi had been taken home when her handlers arrived (when I learned it was that damn maid reading her shojo manga before bedtime) and Nekozawa had been coerced (of course by Tamaki) to try and rid himself of his light-sensitivity and reclaim his place as Kirimi's older brother. 

What happened as a result was a profusely-sweating Neko-kun nearly fainting when a tiny, flickering flashlight was shone on his unprotected face.

While the other discussed what to do about the latest "case" (as they wouldn't give up the cop theme no matter how much I pleaded), I tended to Neko-kun's wounded form. "She looks like you," I noted, trying for a brighter smile. He winced and ducked his head.

Evidently, too bright was a side-effect of my smiles. Good to know.

"You wouldn't ever know," he sighed, "seeing as how I'm always swathed in darkness. And this rather eye-catching cloak." He tugged ruefully at his hood, a mock-smile on his lips. 

"Ah, but that's one of the things I love about you, Neko-kun." He cocked his head, eyeing from beneath his obstructive bangs, as always. I held up one finger pointedly, then poked his chest with each word I spoke: "You. Are. Yourself." I smiled. "And you really do embrace your oddities. I could've learned a thing or two from you in middle school."

Our conversation was interrupted when the doors slammed open, streaming in broken shafts of light; Nekozawa dramatically threw his arms in front of his face, cowering behind me, as Kirimi lumbered in. Taking in the dark of the room, her eyes welled up with crystal tears and she rushed for Tamaki, shouting "Big brother!" as Haruhi sweat dropped.

"Kirimi, I told you not to leave the waiting room," I heard her murmur. She'd been assigned to care for Kirimi when she came into today, really to keep her from the room because of the lack of light. I would have volunteered, but I was too busy trying to keep the twins from committing homicide.

Neko-kun light sensitivity was on a ridiculously grand scale all its own.

A smile tugged at my lips, watching Tamaki soothe Kirimi, hold her close and whisper that everything would be alright. His love of the fatherly role suddenly made sense: In actuality, he had a heart of gold and one hell of a compassionate soul. He just tended to make a fool of himself by expressing his feelings in inappropriate ways.

I started when Neko-kun abruptly stood, dropping his cloak to the floor. Beezlenef drifted in my lap, making me blink. I'd never seen Nekozawa without his cat puppet.

"Okay! Nekozawa, let's work on your posture some more!" Tamaki exclaimed once Haruhi had led Kirimi away again. Neko-kun faltered for a moment, his face slick with sweat, but managed to stammer out, "Y-Yes" and (pitifully) attempt to pantomime Tamaki's poetic posture, languid and flowing. Neko-kun was a bit of a sloucher (like myself) so I understood his ineptitude at this.

But I'd noticed a change; no longer did he complain that these things refused to come naturally, or that certain words were absent from his vocabulary. He was more determined than ever to become Kirimi's Prince.

I smiled serenely at the limp cat in my lap, finally looking away from the suddenly effervescent Nekozawa. "Your friend is one fantastic brother," I whispered to Beezlenef. And I swear, the damn thing's smile widened a fraction.

_____________________________________

_____________________________________

"We... did it."

All the members of the Host Club had held their breath, waiting, watching, hoping Nekozawa could survive having the full force of the artificial light searing his retinas.

A moment passed, then two. And while sweat still slithered conspicuously down the sides of his ashen face, he stood his ground.

"At last Nekozawa can withstand the flashlight!!"

I was the first to break from our awkward, nervous huddle, darting forward to wrap my arms around Neko-kun's neck. He stumbled back, as unskilled as I used to be with intimiate physical contact, and also worried over dropping the flashlight as his one free arm came around my waist. "Neko-kun! You didn't die!" I cheered, beaming up at him with my Cheshire grin.

His lips formed a shaky, bewildered smile. "I suppose you're right, Micah."

It's not much, but it's something, I thought, unable to staunch the growing smile on my lips. He's doing all this for his sister.... He loves her enough to completely step out of his comfort zone so he can be with her. I'd adore having an older brother like Neko-kun. If only.... 

Though, in a way,  I suppose I did have an older brother like Neko-kun. Several, in fact. Tamaki especially served as a loving family member, though he claimed to be more of a fatherly figure than anything else. Still, it was nice, having people in your life willing to go to extremes to make you happy.

"Oh, Kirimi...."

Nekozawa and I turned simultaneously (I was more or less just carried along with him) to see his bubbly blonde sister pushing open the door, peering earnestly into the club room. Unfortunately, the moment her eyes turned to Neko-kun, he flipped the switch of the flashlight, bathing his face in harsh, ghastly light.

He looked less than human (more so than usual).

So of course the poor girl screamed and rushed out of the room, leaving Neko-kun to shout vehemently in her wake, and then promptly collapse on the floor from depressing shock, taking me along with him.

"Nekozawa!!"

"Micah!"

I immediately rolled off him, for once not concerned about practically lying atop the chest of the opposite sex. Dropping close to the floor, I brushed the bangs from Nekozawa's eyes, only to see them fluttering open, two gorgeous blue orbs slowly focusing on my worry-creased face. He twisted onto his side, elbow propped against the floor, as Tamaki came rushing over.

"Neko-kun," I began, "you can't--"

"It's okay," he cut in, voice sullen, dripping with reluctant finality. "Even if I continue with the training, it doesn't guarentee that Kirimi will accept me." He smiled wanly at me, before looking over my shoulder to where Tamaki had paused, uncertain about Neko-kun's intent. "Kirimi doesn't want a brother like me," he said. "She wants someone like you, Tamaki."

"The person that little girl really wants to be is you!!" Tamaki insisted, glaring at Nekozawa, his eyes fierce and certain. "If you care about your sister, don't give up even if it kills you!!"

Nekozawa's face remained desolate, Tamaki's words having as much effect on him asthe hosts' charms on me (the blushing being an unavoidable reaction that didn't mean a thing). I sighed. Boys were so troublesome. And I'd thought they'd make less dramatic friends than their female counterparts. How wrong I seem to have been.

I poked Neko-kun's forehead, leaning close enough that our noses nearly brushed. "Idiot," I mumbled. Without another word, I stood, dusted myself off front and back (I really needed to stop making unwanted contact with the floor...), then marched off to where the twins stood, gazing out the window. They seemed to have found something of interest.

"What is it?" I asked, pushing into the space between Kaoru and Hikaru. 

"Kirimi's in the courtyard," Kaoru told me. He pressed his fingers to my chin, guiding my head so that I could see what he was seeing. "She's with a cat, too."

"As you'd expect from a cat-loving family," Hikaru added boredly. "That stray cat is totally taken with her..."

Without warning, I was shoved aside, knocking roughly into Kaoru's chest as Nekozawa took up residence at the window, his hands pressed to the glass so harshly, I thought he might break the fragile material. His eyes widened as he took in Kirimi, standing two feet from a fluffy white cat, no bigger than Uso-chan, really.

"It's not like that," he insisted breathlessly. "Yes, the Nekozawa family has worshipped cat-shaped idols for generations, but.... It's simply a mtter of form! It has nothing to with affection for the actualy biological creature. Cats... scare Kirimi most of all!"

Only then did I notice the petrified look in Kirimi's wide eyes. I tore my gaze away from the frozen scene as Nekozawa burst from the room, ignoring Haruhi's offering of his cloak. My fingers curled into the fabric of Kaoru's Ouran jacket (as I hadn't yet realized I was still leaning against him for support), anxious, heart-racing, waiting to see what would become of Kirimi.

Looking back on it now, it was rather like watching a very overrated day-time soap-opera.

And yet, in that moment, it was as if I was were Kirimi, and that cat the most grotesque tarantula imaginable. I understood at once her fear and desperately urged Neko-kun on, knowing full-well that this action would be impossible for him were it not Kirimi on the line.

And thenk, finally, he was there, flying from the school doors, running for Kirimi's with his hand outstretched, beckoning her to him. She looked at him with teary-eyes, realization slowly dawning on her, until her little legs propelled her forward, allowing her to meet her brother's embrace.

Before I could cheere, I was pulled sharply from the window, Kaoru's hand folded tightly around mine. Together, the Host Club followed Nekozawa's footsteps until we reached him in the courtyard. I stumbled to a halt as Kaoru's hand dropped its grip, but caught myself before Mori, standing a few feet away, felt the need to intervene.

"Nekozawa did it!" Honey exclaimed. "He's okay even in the daylight!"

"Go, Neko-kun!" I shouted, caught up in the excitement. I even threw my hands into the air in sheer elation. This earned quite a few quirked brows from the Host Club, Kyouya and Haruhi among them, but I wasn't to be deterred.

"Don't be scared, Kirimi," Neko-kun cooed, capturing Kirimi's fisted hand in Beezlneff's paws. A tumultuous atmosphere overtook him then, dramatic wind howling behind him, and he said, "Beezleness will curse all the bad cats..." before fainting.

Again.

In the end, Kirimi and Nekozawa's relationship was mended. Although he reverted into his Black Magic Club President, darkness-loving self, Kirimi still continued to recognize him as her beloved older brother, something I found heartwarming enough to warrant a gracious smile. 

I was happy, for Neko-kun, for Kirimi, and for the Host Club. We'd done something special, I thought, even if, in the end Nekozawa had overcome his weaknesses himself to rescue Kirimi. We'd been part of it, at least, and that was enough for me.

The experience made me realize just how wonderful the pseudo-charming hosts could be, and I couldn't wait until the next club day.

For once, I couldn't have been prouder to be part of such an impossible, ludicrous, outrageous, laughable club.