[h1][center](Will update header/colours when finalised)[/center][/h1]


Spring was here, and there was the usual phenomenon occurring from what was sometimes dubbed "The Ouran Effect". The premise was simple, at the start of each year the vast majority of the student populace decided it was time to lay down the law for the next year. The social ladder, pyramid, call it what you will. There was the obvious rich of the rich operating in their own inner circles (commonly congregating around the cricket club, calligraphy club and one specific corner of the main dining hall) who were seen as some kind of untouchable entity. Ouran already had an idea of who was in charge, but the anomaly was always the new first years. The first semester was their time to trickle in, get taken under the wing of a powerful or prestigious second or third year student and spend most of their school life networking on behalf of their dynasties. Within that anomaly however, lay yet more anomalies of a deeper level.

Morning dew on trees glazed the most waxy of leaves, beading up and slithering down much like sweat. As tension broke, a bead from a particular leaf dropped into a small puddle of sweat forming on the floor of the men's sports changing rooms. Two very large, strong boys in sports kit held down this "leaf" on a bench between rows of lockers. Standing on this bench was another boy, albeit resting half his body weight on the poor petal's gut. 

"I-I haven't done anything! I'm a first year like you!" 

The boy's confusion was rather justified seeing as there was no opportunity so far within the realm of possibility that could have lead to this scenario just out of actions on the first day. The boy was quite rightly confused, somewhere under a thick layer of being terrified. The foot lifted from his torso, and the two larger boys holding him down let go and stood back. Warily, the boy sat up to be met very closely face-to-face with what he now assumed was some spleen-stepping psychopath. Bizarrely, he was met with a smile.

[color=00aeef]"I didn't expect the heir to one of the biggest Irish mob factions to be this much of a baby about a little rough-and-tumble."[/color]

Pink eyes inspected the boy who was quite clearly european, much like the devil speaking was also. It also now became apparent that the sweat that was dripping on him was mostly coming from his eyes, and had a lower sodium content than you'd find on an athlete or the customer of a strip club. He ferociously wiped them, visibly angry at being caught crying before lunging to take a jab at the other boy's arrogant blonde mug. The arm, and his neck, were caught simultaneously by familiar large arms. The other player grinned, being sure his hand was steady as he took rather skilled portraits of the terrified ginger boy with his phone. 

[color=00aeef]"Now, like me you've come to this school with some kind of network. Support, goons, thralls, whatever you want to call it. I just wanted to pull you aside for a little chat today and make sure we're on the same page to do with all that."[/color]

His rather charming smile was catching the Irish boy off guard. For the kinds of things he was saying, he didn't really seem like the type for.... This. His eyes lurched up as the Blonde boy extended a business card, examining it. He sunk to his knees and muttered in return,

"You have our support."

[color=00aeef]"I'm really glad!"[/color]

The tummy stomping demon completely changed stance, firmly shaking the terrified boy's hand. He had an innocent smile and rather calm voice now. The fear quickly leaving his body, he began to think rationally.

"You could've just started with the card, Mr Reynolds sir, if I knew who you were I would've agreed our clan's support anyway. Your father would crush us if he knew we weren't ma-"

With a hand raised, he was stopped prematurely. The same innocent smile became a friendly one.

[color=00aeef]"I just needed you to know I was serious. I'll let you know if I ever need your help."[/color]

As quickly as it all begun all three boys had left the Irish one alone in the locker room to freshen up and recover. Now strolling down the hall towards Music Room 3, Charlton checked his watch. A familiar face rushed to him, met with an embrace. A girl he'd gone to school with before. Creating some rather red cheeks with a few soft words and a wink, she hurried off giggling to her friends. Brushing a blonde wisp from his forehead, Charlton smiled. This was the place he had always wanted. Somewhere he didn't have to worry about appearances, business, power, or anything serious. Though, appearances would certainly help. As he wandered inside he spotted the Russian fellow, taking note and instantly sizing him up. A smaller, imaginary version of himself however threw a little tantrum in his mind as he had already begun to break his promise not to do any gangster stuff in this club. 

[color=00aeef]"Please tell me I'm not the only first year, the little brother slot never did suit me."[/color]

He said, with a grin and a joking expression.