Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club (manga, anime, characters, pets places, etc.) It's all Bisco Hatori and her accomplices.

Author's Note: Spelling, punctuation, sentence structure and wordings in this story are horrible and the plot-line is luke-warm, for that I apologize. I must say though, I have never written anything other than poetry and essays so... I'm okay with it.
Please, feel free to read and review! I would love your thoughts!
(constructive criticism, nothing blatantly rude, please.)

The doors to Music Room Three burst open and slammed shut within a blink of an eye. Tamaki collapsed onto the floor amass gasps and sputtering for air as the tears continuously stained his cheeks. Fear and panic was seeping from every pore and every inch of his being. He couldn't talk, the lump in his throat was much too large to gulp back and utilize his voice. In a puddle of his own fear and despair, his blonde locks shielded his face in his hands. His body felt sore all over from the running,... and something else. Something encompassing his whole body. His extremities were aching and the sensation of painful tingling was spreading fast.

What did I just do? How stupid could I be?

~Earlier~

The hall was dark and murky, yet still held an impeccably romantic charm considerable of a basement dwelling. The high decorative ceilings and vaulted accents seemed to mock him as he approached the black double doors. He could hear faint whispers from the shadows of every flicker from the tapered candles lining the walls. Taunting him, warning him to stay away.

"I have to do this!" He declared to himself with gusto. "Those nasty twins need to know that I'll do anything for her. My Haruhi! My sweet daughter!"

Striking a heroic pose he learned from a comic when he was young, he faltered and slammed into the doors. His face seemingly cemented on the door above the handle, the other door slowly opened with a creak that resonated in his mind as devilish cackles.

"Might as well do it and get it over with. It's only a minute in the lair of evil." He gulped, his monologue did nothing to inspire bravery. "The very pit of Hell with the Satan himself..."

Thus, he took a step into the blinding darkness. Nothing could be seen. He tried to wait until his eyes adjusted, but he found it difficult when his eyes were clenched shut. He didn't trust himself to look. He began shaking, rather shivering, for it seemed the temperature dropped by at least twenty degrees. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he allowed himself to crack open one eye. Black.

In the distance, he could make out a faint glow. The flame of the melted stump of a candle against the large stone wall died out as he approached, leaving him searching frantically for another redeeming source of light, which he found. To his right, he was met with another stump lining the wall on his right side of the new hall. Running his hand along the cold stone he approached the light, which once again died out. Straight ahead on the opposite wall, he stumbled over to the left wall and ran the corresponding hand along that wall as if to memorize his way. As he approached, the flame did not die out. He reached an opening, a new room. As if it were telling him to go in, another candle on the other side of the entryway sprang to life.

He peeked around the corner, both amazed and a good deal freaked out at what he saw. A circle of lumpy fabric rose, disembodied hands slowly rising to the ceiling. A glowing pentagram surrounded these figures in a brilliant green and in the center he saw Bereznoff and about four other similar puppets laying out in a corresponding circle. Voices chanted in a deep tones melding and weaving themselves into a singular entity of its own. At the raised fingertips there was a crowding of shimmering air. It was glowing, feeding from the surrounding candles. Streaks of thin flames swirled in and mingled with the shimmer, burning it. A fog gathered. Dark. Black. It was looming over the figures, swirling like a furious tornado.

The vocal entity was booming now, reaching higher octaves. It caught Tamaki off guard. A sharp gasp caught the attentions of the fabric circle as heads popped up and faces began appearing. Their eyes were widening, focusing upward. In a curious and frightened state, he looked to the center of every gaze.

The storm of black fog and shimmering air thinned out whipping through the air in a fast motion, heading straight toward turned to try and outrun the darkness. Dead candles sprung to an unhealthy and angry blaze as if to show him the Hell he was to surely be a part of. The stinging came quick and the darkness washed over his entire body causing involuntary movement of his appendages. Still, he willed his legs to keep going, to keep running.

~Present~

"So, Tono, were you able-"

"-to face the Black Magic Club-"

"-to prove your bravery, loyalty-"

"-and worth-"

"-to your precious daughter?" The Hitachiin brothers purred and goaded, snickering as the blonde continued to crumble before them.

"Hika-chan, Kao-chan! Quit being mean to Tama-chan! Those guys are very scary!" The little senior pulled his bunny tighter to his chest, shivering. His fork lay forgotten, stabbed into a mound of frosting and sweet sponge. His tall cousin nodded in agreement turning his disapproving gaze upon the two.

Haruhi looked up from her textbook with heavy lidded eyes that threatened to cross.
I guess I could use a break. Focusing her eyes to the sight in front of her, she gave an exasperated moan.

"What did you guys do?"

Unwillingingly heaving herself from the plush red couch, she set her book on the oval table and made her way quickly to the quivering blonde mass. Her hand hung hovering inches from the Host-King's shoulder.

A sudden cool voice cut through the thick emotions in the room like a knife, making her jump back in surprise.

"Haruhi, I hope you are aware that you are at the center of this conflict, correct?" The glare from Kyoya's glasses flashed in a dangerous way causing a chill to run down her spine. A light cold sweat breaking through on her forehead caused the Shadow King to grin at her discomfort. "I expect to calculate the damages to today's profit-loss and add that to your debt." He tapped the tip of his pen to his lower lip, once more drawing a chill down her spine. "Just so that you are aware."

Palm to her face, somehow she knew what was coming. She could feel it. Today started off just too quiet.

Serenity is likened to war. I should know this by now.

She continued to her destination and finally made contact. When Tamaki raised his tear-stained face to look up at her, his eyes caught her attention. In their violet depths, there was something odd happening. His pupils were fluctuating between dilation and not and his irises overall seemed a strange mix between brightened and darker. Something had happened. Something terribly wrong.

"Tamaki-senpai, what happened?" Curiosity and worry encouraged her to press for answers, but she definitely wasn't ready for what she was about to hear.

He re-counted the story as best he could as Kyoya hung a sign depicting a club closure for the day. She and the rest of the Hosts could not believe what they heard. Skepticism rampant in Kyoya and herself barely held back the mocking laughter that threatened to burst forth. Skepticism...and the shaking form of the princely Tamaki twins were the first to break the silence. Though, they did so in a way void of tact.

"Boss, so what you are saying is that we pretty much condemned your soul, yeah?" Hikaru snickered between words, holding onto his brother's torso in hopes of not falling to the ground in a fit of laughter.

"And you were chased by sparkles?" Kaoru now doubled over in raw amusement, barking out about the insanity and the melodrama that Tamaki spewed.

"It sounds like you got chased out by a Twilight heart-throb!"

New wails of raucous guffaws filled the air, even the stone-faced Kyoya cracked a smirk at the last comment.

Something other than the laughter caught the attentions of Haruhi, though. The once bright white of the clubroom door was replaced with black, and a hooded figure surrounded by shadow stood lurking in the shadows, barely visible from the crack in the door.

"Pardon my interruption, but I feel that I can clear up the situation that Suoh-san has recently encountered." His voice was barely above a sinister silken whisper, but succeeded in grabbing immediate attention.

"You see, Suoh-san has stumbled upon the misfortune of disengaging a particularly dark ritual." His voice purred, as if he was almost pleased with the turn of events. He stepped into the club room emanating a powerful aura that seemed to dim the lights in the room.

"In short, he has taken on the dark spirits of five. His body is not capable of housing these menacing forces." With this his lips curled in a sick manner it cause something alike nausea to sweep throughout the room.

"If my sources are correct, he will either whither into a shell of his former self, or he will die." Taking another step, he kneeled next to the salt-faced blond lifting the broken teen's chin higher with his thumb and fore-finger.

"You see, because the souls of the dead that he is now harboring, " Nekozawa gave a dark chuckle, "... Feeds on happiness and pure will."

"Is that so?" Kyoya skeptically questioned, sarcasm dripping from the words. He looked up from his laptop briefly. "Is there anything that you could do that could counter-act the effects that this is having on the poor boy's body, because I happen to know for a fact that Tamaki can't handle this farce. Real or not."

"Ah, ha ha! Your closed-minded reasoning... I find it to be slightly endearing, Ohtori-san." Nekozawa drawled, glancing at the bespectacled teen out of the corner of his eye.

"Though, perhaps we can reach an agreement." He drew up to his full height, hood casting a shadow over his eyes. His heavy cloak billowed behind him as he closed the gap between himself and Kyoya.

"Seeing as your club is responsible for the interruption of a very important ritual to all of my club's members, I feel it is only responsible for your club to be held accountable." He gave a bone-chilling smirk.

"In other words, I owe you nothing, Ohtori-san." Umehito Nekozawa's words echoed throughout the clubroom like thunderclap and in a flash, both the foreboding black door and the man himself was gone.

The lights seemed blinding, the silence deafening as all of the Hosts stared in wide-eyed shock at Kyoya.

"Well, Haruhi. Now I know what you can do to clear your debt."