Sushi and Pocky Sticks (OHSHC)

21 | Covering the Famous Host Club

Dedicated to SleepyNinjaa. I love working with you and ai, hosting the AnimeWattyAwards. ♡

   

— Chapter 21 —

Covering the Famous Host Club

   

Kyouya was finally getting back into the swing of things after Hani's cavity incident. In fact, he seemed happier than usual, claiming that it was now the time of year in which the host club was able to sell its magazines.

When I told him that I didn't know magazines for the host club even existed, he offered an explanation, along with examples. He pulled out several copies. Asking about my opinion, he stared at me intently.

The front pages were high-quality photographs of the individual hosts, most of them shirtless. When I shot Kyouya a weird look, he told me not to underestimate them, since they'd already been sold out within twenty-four hours of its initial sale: all one-thousand copies.

Before I could respond, he handed me something different: a book with chibi drawings of the host club on the front cover. According to Kyouya, this was an actual novel called "Moe Moe Ouran Diaries, Volume Eight." After allowing a smug smile to cross his lips, he gladly told me that those had also sold out as soon as they'd gone on sale.

I continued to pace down the hallway, skimming through the book to see if it would interest me, but it looked like more of a fan fiction about the hosts than anything else. It merely described a day in the life of one of them, with a few twists, some drama, and some fan service added on for the sake of the reader's attention span. Renge was the one who had come up with the idea and published it.

Fumbling with one of the pages, my hand had slipped and I accidentally dropped it. I bent down to pick it up, gladly realizing the short distance I needed to travel to get to the courtyard. Tamaki bumped into me in the hallway yesterday and told me to go there to meet with the hosts instead of the club room.

However, just as I was about to take a step forward, I heard muttering coming from a room that left its door slightly ajar. I didn't want to eavesdrop, but I could have sworn I heard them say something about the host club, so I had the urge to peek in. And that's exactly what I did.

Stacks of newspapers that were piled ceiling-high were surrounding the room; so much that two of the three men present were using the shorter stacks for seats. The man sitting in front of them, who was behind a desk, spoke in a tone of voice that would make one think they were discussing a life-or-death situation.

His rectangular-rimmed glasses were glinting in the sunlight that was pouring through the windows, making it impossible for me to see his eyes from where I was standing. He then stood up and turned his head swiftly at the large, wall-sized glass window behind him, and his mid-length hair that was a color of unsaturated brown had swayed for just a fragment of a second. His back was now facing the two other men, who had their heads tilted downwards.

One of the men seemed to be trembling in nervousness as he'd delivered some unfortunate news to the man facing the window. "President, the circulation of our newspaper sales have dropped into the single digits."

"How many copies did we sell this week?" the man queried in a seemingly cruel manner.

The other man gingerly held up two of his fingers. "Two copies, sir."