Soo... I haven't updated in...What? Two months? Crap. I spaced on this one.

Let me explain first that I just moved states, a family member has a major health problem, and I spent sixteen hour in a car yesterday. So... not fun.

Okay, so if you obsessively stalk me... I will not deny the fact that I have been updating another story on a regular basis, but I had writer's block on this one.

Anyways, I hope this chapter is of acceptable length and quality, though it most definitely does not make up for my missed weeks.

Anyways... fanservice in here, along with some major Kyoya-obsession and perhaps some OOCness of characters, because I haven't seen Princess Tutu in AGES.

So... here goes.

Also: let me say that I HAVE HAD A PLOT IN MIND THE ENTIRE TIME I WAS WRITING EVERY CHAPTER OF THIS FIC... I just stretched out the intro... Because it was fun and I just write and publish whatever comes to mind.

But here begins the real plot... so here you go.

Morning came soon…all too soon… and brought with it sun that penetrated even the thickest of shades in its plight to wake the slumbering duck from her dreams.

Ahiru woke slowly, stretching out her long, delicate arms as she climbed out of the satin sheets, releasing a cry of distress when she toppled off of the bed and onto the cold floor.

"Ouch…" Haruhi's eyes snapped open.

"Are you alright, Ahiru?" The small, brunette girl asked, slipping out of her own bed.

"I'll be fine!" The redheaded girl answered, a wide smile on her face. "Nothing to worry about, see?" Standing a bit too quickly, Ahiru staggered backwards from dizziness and collided with an inconveniently-placed lamp, which abruptly met its doom, sending shards of blue glass sliding across the floors and underneath Haruhi's bed.

The small duck yelped, eyes wide in panic, and leapt backwards, crashing into her bedside table and sending a glazed, ceramic vase to its death.

Add to the chaos that said vase happened to contain flowers and was therefore filled with water and one would undoubtedly pity the poor, graceless duck and her dear guest.

All the female host could do was watch, as the redhead began rushing around the room, collecting the pieces and fussing vociferously…until she took a wrong step and, with a high-pitched squeak, wound up with a piece of watery glass protruding from the bottom of one foot.

A short knock sounded at the door.

"Ahiru, Haruhi? Is everything alright," came Pique's small voice.

Haruhi's chocolate brown eyes trailed over the disorderly room. "Uh… we could use some help," Haruhi returned. "But make sure you've got shoes on before coming in."

The door let out a whine as it swung open, revealing a bright mop of magenta hair and two perfectly-groomed, blonde pigtails.

"Oh my! What happened in here?" Lillie cried. "Poor Duck! She'll never make a good wife!"

"Oh, poor Duck!" Pique chimed in, her features painted with mock tragedy.

Haruhi dead-panned the pair of weeping dancers.

"Alright! Let's clean up!" Lillie proclaimed, suddenly changing character.

"I will never understand," the brunette girl mumbled quietly.

"Yes! Operation: Clean Up Duck's Room…Begin!"

Half an hour later, when all the glass and ceramics had been removed from the floor and Ahiru's bleeding foot bandaged, the four dance-conservatory students strolled out of the girls' dormitory.

"We have today off," Ahiru announced happily.

"So tell us," Pique and Lillie began. "Where did you and Fakir go last night?" Haruhi shuddered; the devious smiles on their lips made them into eerie doppelgangers of the Hitachiin twins.

Ahiru blushed crimson as she turned her eyes to the ground.

"I—we—uh…" the duck-like girl stuttered.

"Come on, Ahiru. Details! We need details!" Pique prompted.

"Well, we went for a walk in the garden," the klutzy red-head offered. "And talked…"

"And?" Lillie pressed, grinning. "

"Did he kiss you?" Pique asked, excitedly, causing Ahiru's already-pink cheeks to blush redder. "He did?!"

"Uh… I have to go…shopping! I have to go shopping! See you later!" Ahiru laughed nervously, dashing off into town.

"Awe! Ahiru! You can't leave now! We were just getting to the good part!" Pique complained.

"Our sweet, lucky Duck!" Lillie smiled happily. "She's fallen in love with a knight!"

Pique and Lillie huddled together, swaying back and forth and giggling loudly under the sun. The air around them seemed to sparkle with sheer joy. "She's just so cute!

"I will never understand…"

"Kyoya?" As if waking up with a terrible headache was not bad enough, the voice of a certain eccentric, blonde host sounded at Kyoya's door.

"What is it, Tamaki," the foul-tempered, Japanese boy growled.

Silence. "Can I come in?" Kyoya groaned, sliding out of bed and heading towards the locked door dressed in nothing but a pair of red boxers and smoothing his messy black hair with one elegant hand as he walked. **AN: Couldn't help myself…**

The lock clicked open moments later, and the door opened a grand total of three inches, exposing a tiny sliver of the Shadow King's lethal expression.

"Are you alright, Kyoya?" The blonde boy inquired, worriedly. "You don't look so good."

"I'm fine," the Ootori boy sighed, letting the door swing open as he wandered back to his bed. "Now what do you want?"

"Well," the blonde boy began, "today is our first day off."

"And?" Sloth like in movement, the Shadow King climbed back underneath the covers and turned away from the sun that slipped through the cracks in the curtains.

"We should go do something fun!" Tamaki exclaimed, eagerly bouncing on his toes.

"…Go back to bed," the Japanese boy groaned, tugging a pillow over his head.

"But Kyoya!" Tamaki fussed. "It's already noon!" Two, identical, red-headed devils appeared in the door way.

"Is he seriously still sleeping?" Kyoya sighed at the simultaneous words of the pair of knavish twins.

"Is Kyoya-chan sick?" Honey's voice joined the mix.

"I don't think so," Mori answered quietly, gazing down at the small blonde boy, affectionately.

"Then what's wrong?" Honey wondered, clutching his soft, pink Usu-chan tightly.

"Typical Shadow King," Hikaru said, rolling his eyes.
"Always oversleeping," Kaoru finished with a dramatic sigh.
Quite unexpectedly, another voice joined in from across uncomfortably bright room.

"Will you all just shut up? I have a headache."

"So that's why you're being a grumpy-pants!" Tamaki cooed. "Come on, Mommy! Time to get up~"

Murderous intent chilled the air around the bed, almost tangible, for the feeling was so powerful.

"Don't you dare call me that," Kyoya snarled, lowly. "Now go back to bed—all of you."

"Sorry, Kyoya," Hikaru began, insincerely.

"We've been given orders to get you up," Kaoru chimed happily.

The Shadow King groaned, throwing back the sheets and down comforter.


Though Kyoya wasn't wearing glasses, Fakir's was not an easily mistakable face. With a strong brow, a pronounced jaw line, and thick, raven hair, the smaller frame in the doorway had to be Fakir.

Softly, Kyoya muttered a few Japanese curses under his breath, feeling around for his glasses on the bedside table. Kyoya located them quickly and gracefully slid them on, blinking a few times to adjust his sight.

The relationship between the Host Club's Shadow King and the academy's knight was shaky at best, and Kyoya glowered at the shorter dancer, narrowing his coal eyes.

"Autor may or may not have found a way to get you all home, but we need to work fast if you don't want to be here for another month," Fakir said, indifferently, studying the Japanese boy with a critical eye.

Kyoya nodded. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

Agitatedly, the Shadow King slumped out of bed skulked into the small bathroom. Ivory hands twisted the dials on the shower, and it turned on with a high-pitched hiss. Kyoya brushed his teeth, allowing the water to run so that he wouldn't accidentally step into another icy waterfall like he had the week before; if there was one thing that the Shadow King loathed, it was cold showers.

The Japanese boy showered and dried quickly, still taking care not to get the bathroom floor wet when he stepped out, then dressed hastily, pulling on a pair of black slacks and a plain, white button-down that stuck to his still-wet skin. And however much Kyoya hated when his clothes were wet, the host did not think to care as he headed out onto the campus, hands tucked into his pockets, hair still dripping. **AN: Couldn't help myself…again...**

"Ahiru?" Haruhi called. "Pique?" No response. "Lillie?" The trio of dancers had made a prompt and uncanny disappearance, leaving Haruhi alone on the bustling, cobblestone streets of a cheerful, morning scene.

The aroma of freshly-baked French bread wafted through the air, with notes of lilac, sage, and honey.

Merchants lined the streets, offering smiles and samples, their brightly-colored carts loaded with fresh, textured breads, aged cheeses, ripe fruits, crisp vegetables, and all manner of sweets, pastries, and beverages.

Kyoya unconsciously wandered towards the deep, rich scent of coffee, his sleep-deprived body protesting so much movement by issuing a painful throb over his right eye each time the brunette took a step.

A small, brass bell chimed as the gorgeous, dark-haired teen strolled into the lowly-lit, cozy coffee shop, and the Shadow King instantly appreciated the lack of blaring sunlight in his eyes.

Behind the counter, a jumper-clad, tabby cat darted back and forth, preparing several beverages simultaneously with seemingly no effort whatsoever.

"Orders fifteen through twenty three are ready," her smooth, alto voice announced, before she turned to Kyoya, and, with soft, warm smile asked: "What may I get for you today?"

"Coffee," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Black." Kyoya hadn't slept at all the night before. "Please," the host added more gently, noticing his previous rudeness.

"Alright," she smiled happily. "Anything else?"

"No thank you." Kyoya sighed and paid for his drink (leaving a large tip, mind you), grateful that he had decided to begin production of Host Club calendars; the BBN bought up the stocks as fast as Tamaki came up with hare-brained schemes.

Five minutes later, the Shadow King had settled himself (most appropriately) into a small, shadowed nook near the back of the shop, preferring to stay out of the light due to his migraine.

The coffee scalded its way down Kyoya's throat, but he couldn't have cared less, feeling the surge of energy hit his nerves and his eyelids lighten dramatically.

After a few more moments, reality began to set in; Kyoya had no idea where the rest of the Host Club had disappeared to or where he was or how he had gotten there.

"Why do I feel like this has happened before?" Kyoya muttered, lowly.

The doorbell rang again, and the petite figure of Haruhi Fujioka appeared in the arch, sporting a baby-blue sundress and a pair of orange sandals that clicked softly as she traveled across the floor.

She stopped a few feet from the counter, gazing up at the chalkboard with a pondering look on her face. A small hand moved to her face, the tip of her index finger pressing against her gently parted lips.

Kyoya stood quietly and made his way to her side, appearing behind the girl soundlessly. Still oblivious the boy's presence, Haruhi pulled a small lilac, tweed wallet from one pocket.

"Just order," Kyoya sighed, impatiently, causing the girl to give a startled jump. "I'll pay."

"Kyoya-senpai? What are you doing here?" She gazed at him quizzically.

"Believe it or not, the idiots dragged me out here for some reason I can't remember." Kyoya glared into a nameless corner.

"What can I get for you today?" The tabby cat asked Haruhi, smiling.

"Oh… uh. A caramel mocha, please," the small, brunette girl replied, shyly.

Kyoya pulled a charcoal-black, leather billfold from his pocket, handing the tabby a much larger bill than necessary.

"Keep the change," the Shadow King explained, heading back into the nook.

"Caramel mocha," the barista announced sweetly, handing a steaming drink to Haruhi. "Be careful; it's hot."

"Thank you," Haruhi smiled.

Haruhi's eyes searched for a moment before spotting the dull gleam of a pair of glasses in the corner. She looked questioningly at the darkened space.

"Senpai…why are you sitting in a dark corner?" She asked, confused.

"I have a headache, alright?" The boy growled in response, returning to his mug of black coffee, which—thank the gods—was espresso strength. The Shadow King rolled his eyes."Sit," he ordered.

Haruhi did what she was told, quickly taking a seat in one of the push armchairs across from the Ootori boy.

"Um, senpai?"

"Yes, Haruhi."

"Where did you get this money?" She asked.

Kyoya stared at her, blank-faced, for a moment. "From the Host Club calendars, of course," he answered, blankly.

"Of course," she muttered, frowning at the adjacent wall. "And why did you pay for my drink?"

"I'm assuming we won't be here much longer," the boy answered. "And it's not like the currency would transfer…" And then it hit him.

"Autor may or may not have found a way to get you all home, but we need to work fast if you don't want to be here for another month," Fakir said, indifferently, studying the Japanese boy with a critical eye.

Kyoya nodded. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

So... I hope this was worthy of your time. Please review work of lowly girl. She does love you!