My Life As The Ouran Outcast

My maid knocked on my door as I lolled out of bed.

"Master Ura requests you to report to the downstairs staircase in twenty minutes." She said blandly. I sighed and decided to reveal my ipod. The night before I had downloaded 760 new songs from itunes with 8 $100 itunes cards. I had of course charged it to my father's credit, and in the middle of the night researched good music until 4 AM. I had also previously packed all my luggage and the like into 4 rather large-ish suitcases. The limit did say 5, but I was not a pack-rat, nor clothing inclined. Sure I shopped at prestigious clothing stores, but I would take wearing clothing from the GAP or another cheap retailer any day. I sighed as I tucked the small green piece of electronic into the front of my carry-on bag. The plane to Tokyo would leave in three hours. I was completely and totally prepared except for the fact my hair, clothing and makeup for the day still needed to be done. I wasn't usually that kind of person but I did want to try and make friends at this new, prestigious Japanese school. They would most likely see me as an otaku, or American loser. I kept worrying while straightening my hair and managed burning a nice orange streak in my chocolate brown hair.

"Kuso!" I yelled withdrawing my hand and dropping the device. It hit the floor and I jumped away as not to let my toes be burned as well. I made incoherent noises and pulled a box of black dye from under the sink. I stood looking at it, debating whether or not I should dye my hair or not. My fingers tightened and I opened it slowly. Simple instructions and a pair of plastic gloves fell out. I set the box down and picked up the paper and plastic. I went into my room and dug around in my computer drawer, finding it simple to find a pair of scissors in the empty drawer. I shuffled quickly to the bathroom and decided to throw on a comfy pair of black jeans and a red and black Hello Operator tee. I went into the bathroom with the scissors and began to chop off my long brown locks.

~An Hour later~{/b]

I sat with my father in a long black limo. He wouldn't drag his gaze from the window to me at all since we had entered. It probably had to with my hair. I snickered to myself. I had been dieing for months to do this to my hair and finally I had the chance to do it. A friend on a message board had suggested it after I told her about my hair situation. I blew the now black bangs from my eyes and finally got up the courage to say something.

"Er, Father?" He grunted and I took that as a go ahead to say something.

"Well, I was wondering. . .what do you think of me?" I asked sincerely. I was hoping he would say something along the lines of "You are my daughter and I am most proud of your accomplishments!" Instead he opened his mouth and said,

"I am somewhat. . .distraught with your actions. You are a Ura of course. Going and dying your hair incredulous colors and tarnishing the family name. It's a good thing you are being sent off to Japan. Perhaps me and your mother can work on a heir while you are away. . ." He still had not looked at me the entire time. I let some dry tears fall down my cheeks and I'm sure he heard me, but of course, he made no attempt in nurturing them.

~On the Plane~

A stewardess attempted to make light conversation, but after I clearly ignored her she walked away in a huff. Why people tried to pry into other peoples lives, I had no clue. I popped my incredulously large head phones over my ears and leaned back in my chair, letting a new beat ravage my ears.

When I let my eyes slip open I checked my watch. Most of the lights in this cabin were turned off and I noticed that we were flying over a fairly lighted city below. I turned the music down in time to hear the pilots rustic English attempt. It was obvious he was an Osaka. I turned up the volume again and let myself mouth the words to "Great DJ" by the Ting Tings. I felt the plane begin to decline in the air and I grabbed off my headphones placing them in the carry-on along with my ipod. I walked off the plane casually, noting that it was still nighttime, yet I felt supremely awake. Must be jet-lag. I saw a strange man holding up a sign that was pink and creme colored with the words "Akito Ura, Ouran representative" in blue calligraphy. People looked at him funny and I sighed as I walked up to him.

"Ohayo? Watashi wa Ura-san." -Hello? I'm Ura-san- He looked at me and smiled. I guess my Japanese must have pretty good because he answered me in Japanese.

"Welcome to Japan! Where might you're luggage be?" He spoke kindly.

"Carousel number 4." I told him beginning to walk in that direction. All 4 of my bags were easily found and we made out way out to a small sleek black car. We put the bags in the trunk and he held the door open for me as I hopped in. My carry-on had not left my arm since. As we drove through the Tokyo city I was amazed at all the lights and how alive it seemed. As we passed clubs I could feel the beats of on the rise DJ's and amateurs. I told the driver to stop and turn around as we passed a flashing club. I pulled a small purple dress from my bag and a pair of gold pumps. I was in the need of a good dance.

As I crawled out of the car I gave the driver 500 yen and told him to be back in two hours. I pried my fake ID from my bra and flashed it to the doorman as I'd been taught by my friends back home. I passed people dancing and made my way to the drinks bar. I asked for a Blue Hawaii and backed it in no less than 5 minutes. I made my way to the dance floor as they began to play a remix of Apologize by Timbaland. I danced and swayed to the music feeling the beats pumping up through my feet. I was always a dancer at heart, but I'd only ever done ballet and quit after realizing i hated it. The music was all around me and I felt my body was numb, I was a puppet and the music was holding me up like strings to a wooden puppet. As the song finished and another started a voice whispered into my ear,

"Nice dancing, wanna come see me dance?" I turned to see an older man with a dirty smirk on his face. I was clearly disgusted, these kind of people made me afraid to wear dresses and go dancing. I smiled fakely and said simply

"No." He looked as though he had been slapped and I walked curtly out of the dance club, surprised to see driver-sama parked across the street reading a magazine. I was about to run across the road when a wrinkly, dry hand grabbed my wrist. I was turned around to face the man in the club.

"Let. Go." I growled. People were staring. He laughed and said

"You're comin' home with me hunny!" I was pissed now. I could smell alcohol strongly on him.

"I said, let me go, or I will hurt you." He looked surprised then he smirked.

"You're just a silly girl. What could you do to me?" I grabbed his wrist with my other hand and gripped it with such a force he let go quickly and withdrew. He 'tch'd' and went back into the club. Well, at least there was no bloodshed. I ran across the street and to the waiting driver. We proceeded on our journey and I soon fell asleep in the backseat.