Nekozawa Umehito was an absolute mess. After making it through his first semester of college, he took leave and holed himself up in his wing at home, opting to learn on his own and stay far removed from the chipper and spritely students at his university. He would rather be a hermit than be bereft of the black magic and dark arts that made up much of who he was. Besides, Emily Dickinson had locked herself away and produced many brilliant poems. He would do the same.

Sitting at his desk in the private dorm room his family reserved for him, he sighed and muttered curses under his breath. Of course, Emily Dickinson did not have the same pressures that he did and did not have to make a bigger living for herself. Nekozawa did.

He pushed his hood back and cast a longing look at the bored black cat perched on his shelf, purring quietly and licking it's paw. Her presence was really the only thing to remove him from his house. They bribed him. If we would leave for the fall semester, he would receive a cat who has been bred specifically for the Nekozawa family, with careful thought toward the cat gods they've worshipped from the very beginning. Beelzenef insisted he return to academia and Kirimi promised him she'd take care of his house cleansing and protective rituals in his absence. He was such a proud big brother.

At any rate, he was also quite melancholy. He hadn't realised the social impact of the Black Magic Club on his life and when he began college he found himself terribly out of his element and a whole new spectacle hiding under a black cloak. He attempted to blend in with the rest of the students and tried a black hooded sweatshirt but it didn't quite feel as secure and Beelzenef couldn't tuck away in its folds. He had no special activity club, nobody to turn to as Reiko was still at Ouran, and black magic was ostracized. He had heard there was a satanic club somewhere on campus but there is a difference between his magic and satanism.

An alarm chimed and he glanced toward his phone, sitting on the desktop next to his arm. Ah yes, the activity fair his advisor insisted he attend. He decided he'd give it a few minutes before returning to his dark room and continuing his reading.

After a moment of deliberation, Nekozawa heaved a sigh and pat Nyx gently on her head, grabbing Beelzenef and slipping him over his hand.

...

The Dark Arts Club struck fear into the hearts of many - or at least, that is what the idea was. In reality, they were a strained mish mash of angsty college students who simply didn't fit in anywhere else or were rebelling against their parents and society. Aspiring anarchists who loved the comfort of their summer mansions in the tropics and Roll Royses chauffeuring them wherever they wished to go. But when an overwhelmed Nekozawa Umehito stumbled upon their table set up in the shade of the building stretching before the quad, away from the rest of the club tables, he found his curiosity piqued.

Beelzenef pulled him forward, toward the black-clad students, frowns painted on their faces. "Black magic, I see," he greeted in an eerie tone, tilting his head and allowing his hood to show a curious azure eye.

"Yeah," one of the unamused students answered in a clipped voice. "What's it to you?"

"I am quite skilled in the dark arts," he went on, eyes falling to the tabletop to take in the crystals scattered around a silver ceremonial dish with a melted candle sticking up in its centre. He frowned. "Wax should never touch this dish," he said, reading the mysterious inscriptions along the rim with ease.

The student frown back at him and pushed a hand through his dark hair. "The Dark Queen told us to burn a ceremonial candle for the activity fair to lure in newbies. So we did. Never question the Dark Qu-"

Another student behind him nudged him with his elbow. "Shut up, Ken," he hissed and turned sharp eyes onto Nekozawa. "You know the Dark Arts, you say?"

"As well as Death knows Sorrow," he beamed from under his hood, Beelzenef nodding in agreement.

"Awesome," the student said, moving Ken aside and holding up a poorly painted black clipboard. "Would you like to join our Dark Arts Club? The Dark Queen would be eager for a new addition," he proclaimed, thrusting the clipboard across the table and into Nekozawa's free hand. "We don't get many new people but we need to reach quotas in order to be recognized by the university. Without recognition, we wouldn't get the funding and face-time we need."

Nekozawa nodded in understanding. "I was the leader of a Black Magic Club in my high school in Ouran. We would offer curse dolls and coupons to bring in more people."

"Oh, did that work?" the young man asked, impressed.

He paused. It didn't quite work, no, but he would be too embarrassed to admit his failures at ushering in new people. Instead he chuckled darkly and Beelzenef handed him a quill to sign his name and give his cell phone number on the sheet, handing it back to the club member with a flourish of his cloak.

"Thanks, man!" he said, taking the clipboard back. "I'm Daisuke, by the way."

"Nekozawa."