Takashi Morinozuka was very well aware of the tension within the room - the kind he could have sliced to bits with his Kendo sword if he had really, truly desired to.

"Hmm…" He grunted in minute irritation as his gaze flickered indolently from one livid, adolescent midget to the other.

Things had not at all been going well since the day that Ogawa Miwa transferred into the third year's Advanced Culinary class and declared he disdain for Honey's absolute favorite thing. And their newfound aversion for once another had immediately resulted in several things, such as:

•The cooking assignments were all now entirely individual and based upon preference, it seemed.

•A chair had been placed between Honey and Miwa in order to further separate them; the unlucky middleman was, thankfully, just Usa-chan.

•The rivalry had become the topic of choice amongst the gossiping girls of Ouran Academy.

•The newspaper had decided to run an infuriatingly inaccurate article upon the matter that depicted Honey as some kind of malevolent fiend.

•And, of course, Tamaki's self-righteous personality trait had sparked to life the moment that he became eager to help a poor girl in need.

Generally, the stoic young man was inclined to agree with everything his adorable little cousin had to say, but in this particular state of affairs he was becoming quite fed up with the antics that ordinarily pacifistic little Mitsukuni Haninozuka had created.

"Ooh~ I think it must be done now, everyone!" The aforementioned, troublesome youth muttered to an audience of adoring females whilst he slid a hot pink oven mitt over his hand. It was obviously much too big for it, but the hilarity of it was nothing in comparison to the way that the toque blanche that Honey had adorned just for cooking class seemed to consume his cranium.

His statement was immediately met with a wave of silly, swooning girls.


With a delicate delve of his gloved hand into the fiery depths of the expensive oven, Honey had retrieved a rather burnt and pathetic excuse for a chocolate cake.

"Saa…~" He murmured in careful concentration as he placed the cake upon the stove top.

Takashi could easily decipher the sudden sympathetic atmosphere as it was created from the giggling group of girls. It was quite obvious that they intended to come to the cute male's aid the very moment in which, in a tearful fit, he realized that cooking was not his forte.

"YATTA! THIS LOOKS TASTEY, MINNA-SAN!" He cooed as flowers radiated from his very person.

Meanwhile, a very focused Miwa Ogawa had been concentrating upon her particular cooking task at hand. After the day that she had upset nearly the entire class with a protest of cake, the softhearted teacher had been unable to make any further decisions to upset her class. Thus, she had lost all of what little vertebrate she had been born with and resigned to simply smiling encouragingly at her students' victual works from afar. And judging by the way the teacher's gaze seemed to remain slowly upon the troublesome two, Takashi could tell that he was not the only one who noticed the strain - even if both Mitsukuni and Miwa liked to put on a good, genial show for the surrounding onlookers.

Takashi noticed that the third year junior high student's preferred task at hand for today had been something spectacular indeed – a chocolate soufflé, the likes of which Takashi Morinozuka didn't doubt would be amazing. After all, Miwa was the youngest Ouran student to ever gain entrance into an advanced placement class.

"OH MY GOD!" The aforementioned female visibly seethed with overflowing rage. It was inevitable that, as the running gag with soufflés usually go, a loud implement of volume from the vocal chords of the star Haninozuka had resulted in the immediate deflation of what could have been culinary art. Takashi knew that this would not bode well at all for the already tender situation. "I can't believe you, Haninozuka-kun!" Miwa wailed, shoulders slumping.

It was interesting to see that quite like her short statured rival, Miwa never managed to work the angry angle well; instead she merely looked like a child whose ice cream had splattered inadvertently upon the pavement. Her large brown eyes seemed even larger, swollen with the stab of disappointment and the promise of unshed tears, and her lips quivered effectively.

"I can't believe you would try to make a soufflé, Bakemono-chan, when you could have made cake." The prideful youth countered crossly. If it was anyone else's soufflé, it was understood that the Loli-Shota type would have proved to be a little more contrite. As it were, though, Mitsukuni Haninozuka could not be bothered to worry himself over the failed creations of cake hating monster.

This chilling statement struck a chord in all of the occupants within the room.

"Dark Honey-sempai…" An irrelevant female began, utterly slack-jawed at the display. "It's so intense; my heart might just stop…" She flushed.

Similar sentences of the like followed this one, escaping the lips of girls that found the new, dangerous demeanor of Honey to be something endearing in itself.

Takashi exhaled uncharacteristically loud at this. It had often been said that the eldest Morinozuka brother had a fetish for all things small and cute, so it was only natural that he would find something wrong with his cousin behaving in a manner that was absolutely antithetical to such.

"The only monster here is the one that eats three whole cakes in one sitting," Miwa responded indignantly with her petite little nose angled high within the air. Her accusation was followed shortly by a resentful little huff.

It seemed as if a large arrow had struck the Haninozuka in the chest in a very dramatic, Tamaki Suoh sort of manner as the eighteen-year-old noticeably recoiled.

"OGAWA-CHAN IS MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEAAAN!" Honey cried as tears sprouted from his creased lids like water from a fire-hydrant.

His fangirls made to round their brand new glares and grimaces upon the culprit, but could not bring themselves to keep up the cruel expressions the very moment that they found that she too was blubbering like a newborn baby.


"Honey-sempai, Miwa-chan, don't cry…" The girls pleaded in heart-wrenching unison.

Takashi Morinozuka knew now that he was the only one left with any sense at all within the entire class, especially when he observed that the sensei was sniveling along with the oblivious Ouran girls.

With a crack of his knuckles and a quick rotation of his shoulders, Takashi Morinozuka realized exactly what he had to do – even if it was something that had to occur sooner than his fearless, Host club leader had wanted it to.

"Mitsukuni," Takashi called, his fingers finding their way to the collar of the weeping youth's uniform jacket. "Miwa," In the very same fashion, his free hand found its way to the fine fabric of Miwa's middle school ensemble. "That's enough."

Without any further speech uttered (as it was odd enough that Mori had spoken that much within the same hour, anyway) and struggling students in hand, Takashi began the slow, perilous journey to the headquarters of Ouran High School's prestigious Host Club.