BabyBluePirate

 The pink halls of Ouran Academy are quiet except for the click, click, click of your shoes. The windows to your right stretch above you for what feels like miles, letting in the fading sunlight. Your plain black skirt and white lace top feel like rags inside a place as grand as this. The cherry blossoms are in bloom and looking down at the grounds you see the petals drifting in the wind. At the end of a corridor you read the sign for the room at your right.  You re-read the note in your hand for the hundredth time and your heart beats nervously. There’s no mistaking the writing, this is it. You draw a deep breath into your lungs. Upo