The Devil in the White Ballroom
It all started with a simple enough invitation. "And please make sure to leave your schedules open for this Friday night," host club king Suou Tamaki was saying to his female guests. "I would like nothing more than to dance with you all at the Christmas ball sponsored by our club." After which there was a chorus of exclamations of delight and promises to be there if they had to walk through three feet of snow.
It was only a second, however, before such proclamations were cut short by one of the girls raising a dubious voice. "Did you say this Friday?"
"Why, yes, I did," he said unfazed.
"Will it be held in the main ballroom?"
"Of course. The same as always." He tried to hide his growing apprehension.
"And, by any chance, will it commence at eight o'clock in the evening?"
"Why, that is the plan, yes." By this time Haruhi and Kyouya and Mori had gathered around.
"I'm sorry, Tamaki-sama, but you did say this Friday, correct?"
And seeing his discomfort, the rest of the host club joined them. "Yes, yes, that's what I said!" Tamaki repeated, trying his hardest not to lose his cool. "Why, pray tell, do you keep asking such questions?"
"Is there a problem?" said Kyouya, adjusting his glasses.
The girl who had raised the issue blushed faintly. "It's just that I heard the black magic club is going to be observing the winter solstice on the same night, in the exact same place, at the exact same time."
By this time both her colleagues and the host club were looking between she and Tamaki in confusion. "That simply can't be," the latter was saying with an affected air of calm reassurance that was quickly showing its transparency at the mere mention of the dreaded black magic club. "I got approval to use the ballroom that night from student programs myself."
"I certainly hope you're right," another girl piped up, to which her fellows nodded vigorously. "We'll be sorely disappointed otherwise. We were so looking forward to coming to the ball." Never mind the fact that they had only been notified of it just a few minutes before.
"There's got to be some mistake, is all!" Tamaki tried to reassure them.
"I'm sure there was," Haruhi deadpanned. "Let me guess what happened. You went down to the student programs department and started putting your moves on the woman behind the front desk, then when you knew you had her eating out of the palm of your hand you sweetly asked to reserve the ballroom for this Friday for your club. Then she said just as sweetly that she'd check and make sure just for you, and you, confident in your masculine charms, left without giving her time to actually do so and give you an answer."
When Tamaki just sat there and said nothing, Kyouya started. "Is that really what happened?"
"Okay," said Tamaki, "it was a lapse of judgment on my part."
"But what about the Christmas party?" the girls chorused.
"Yeah, milord," the twins chimed in, "you gonna go back on your promise after you get all our hopes up?"
All eyes glued on him, Tamaki gulped. "Of course not," he finally said with a nervous laugh. His confidence returned by the syllable. "The Christmas ball will go on as planned! Rest assured, ladies, this is just a little hiccup, nothing more! Everything will be sorted out by the appointed date!"
A Short While Later
"A little hiccup, huh?" Kyouya asked him frostily an hour later when the host club was alone in the third music room.
"I know, I know already," Tamaki said. "I dropped the ball."
"I guess I'm partly to blame. I should have known better than to leave something this important up to you."
"Why? I am the club's president."
"Then it's high time you start acting like it!"
On the sidelines, the twins were putting up their noblest effort not to laugh out loud. "Uh-oh," Kaoru said, his fist held before his mouth like he were stifling a cough, "looks like Mommy and Daddy are fighting again."
"Someone won't be getting any tonight," Hikaru added, making his brother sputter.
Tamaki turned bright red at that. "Come on, Kyouya! I apologize. What else do you want from me? Blood?"
"I want you to fix this mess, that's what I want you to do." And with that Kyouya folded his arms across his chest, while the other mumbled something about tough love.
"We went and checked with student programming, and the host club really does have valid reservations for the ballroom that night," Honey said as he swung his legs beneath the table. "The thing is, so does the black magic club. So we got double-booked."
"But they got first dibs," Mori said, to which Honey nodded sadly.
"Then it's up to me." Catching his second wind, Tamaki stood abruptly, one clenched fist raised in determination. "I can't let our patronesses down at this stage in the game. A promise is a promise—"
"What's the plan, milord?" said the twins.
He flashed the table an evil smile. "I'm going to seduce the student programs lady—"
Fortunately Haruhi grabbed his ear before he could take his first step toward such a doomed plan of action. "No, you're not. You two are going to work this out like gentlemen."
"Like gentlemen?" Tamaki gave her a blank look.
Haruhi sighed. Maybe that wasn't the most appropriate choice of words. . . . "In a civilized negotiation of terms."
"With whom?"
As though on cue, the creaking of massive doors in a stone archway made the heads of everyone at the table turn. "The mysteriously appearing door again?" Hikaru asked an equally puzzled Kaoru. An eerie aura of darkness was emitted from the crack that had been opened between the doors, heralding a figure concealed like furniture in an empty house by a dark robe and bearing an evil-looking hand puppet. He said in an equally dark and mysterious, breathy voice like he had laryngitis, "You rang?"
Tamaki recoiled. "N-Nekozawa-sempai?"
"He booked the ballroom for the same time you did," Haruhi said, "so it's only fair you two should be the ones to work it out."
"You mean negotiate, with him? Are you crazy?" Tamaki muttered something about surely being cursed for this, but in truth Nekozawa looked equally unenthusiastic about being there.
"Suou-kun," he said, "what's this I hear about your challenging my club's arrangements? Don't you know the observation of the winter solstice is crucial to the appeasement of the gods? Why do you hate the gods so much, Suou?"
"N-n-n-no, that's not it at all," Tamaki backpedaled. "I had no such intention! I have nothing but love for the gods!" And with that he laughed out loud. Needless to say, with a laugh like that no one was buying it, let alone Nekozawa.
"Poppycock! This filibustering is nothing but your sad attempt to use your club's popularity as leverage to cancel our saturnalia, when you know very well it has been an annual tradition for two years running—"
"That's malarkey! Our intentions are completely selfish. All we want is to be able to hold our club's Christmas party, also an annual tradition for two years running (if you count this year)—"
Nekozawa's mouth curved into a wicked smile. "Why, Suou-kun, I had no idea you had such a strong desire to be cursed."
That shot got through to its target. Tamaki put up one arm as though to protect himself from whatever evil should shoot his way and took a step backwards, stumbling over his chair. "C-cursed! No way. . . ." he sputtered, before giving up entirely, slumping over the table. "I give up. Raise the white flag, Kyouya! I can't risk such a fate for my baby."
"What the . . . You're not even trying! Have you already forgotten about your commitment to your guests?" Haruhi lambasted him. "What are you going to tell all those girls who were expecting their King Tamaki to come through for them, hm?"
"Hell hath no fury like a fangirl scorned," muttered a frightened Honey.
"You have to agree that's worse than any curse," Kyouya agreed, though it was doubtful whether even that fury was comparable to what terror lay within his awesome hidden power.
"They're right." Tamaki straightened himself solemnly. He said to Nekozawa: "I cannot afford to back down so easily. I, Suou Tamaki, gave my word that a Christmas ball would be held on that night, and, God help me, I fully intend to see it through. After all, I am the host club King, and a king has a sacred duty to do right by his subjects. I did not found this host club almost two years ago just to run from any unpleasantness that arose with my tail between my legs. No, sir! Though we may seem but a ragtag bunch of Adonises, we have survived the goring of fiercer boars than this counterfeit lord of flies who stands before us—yes, and come out all the stronger for it! We will not go quietly into the night! We will not give up without a fight!" He pointed his finger at his rival dramatically as he barked, "Nekozawa Umehito, prepare yourself!"
Honey and Mori gave their posing king a hearty round of golf applause, though the rest could only stare. It wasn't so much that it took gall to oppose the black magic club, so much as it took gall to make such a horrendous ultimatum before anything but a bathroom mirror.
"Heh. This is a waste of our time," said an unimpressed Nekozawa. "You put up a noble effort, Suou, but we of the black magic club have the ballroom solidly booked for that night and you know you don't have a leg to stand on."
"Not necessarily."
All eyes turned to Kyouya, who had spoken. "What do you mean, 'not necessarily'?" said Haruhi.
"Only this," the host club's vice president said pointedly. "It has come to my attention that ever since the start of the latter term the black magic club has been struggling to remain afloat. In fact, popularity has decreased so rapidly in the last two months the student council has threatened to cut their funding if they do not find some way to contribute usefully to the school culture. Their recruitment rate is dismal. Active interest among the student populace is lacking in unhealthy levels for ten months out of the year. In fact, the only times the club makes any significant amount of money are around Halloween, Obon, and White Day—when, if I remember right, they sponsored a rather dodgy bake sale that had to be closed down by the health department. They've tried selling black magic paraphernalia—voodoo dolls, emo poetry pamphlets, love potions, Holy Santos candles—but proceeds are a mere fraction of what the host club makes in a week, and not enough to pull the black magic club out of the red."
Nekozawa gulped.
Kyouya adjusted his glasses. "Am I incorrect?"
"No," the other admitted, and not without a great deal of difficulty. "You're correct. The Beelzenev merchandise is, right now, our main source of income. I've been told the cuteness of his image is . . . irresistible." And so saying, he held up a rather adorable key chain as evidence, sadly.
"So, in short, the student body sees the black magic club as a joke?" Haruhi said.
The twins winced beside her. "Brutally honest as always. Spare the poor guy, would you?"
She frowned. "Well, I'm just saying." It wasn't like she was questioning his masculinity or anything, was it?
"It's true," Nekozawa said. "This Friday's saturnalia was to be our grand re-entry into the ring of student programming as a top contender."
"So, you need to regain your former popularity in order to stay alive as a club?" said Haruhi, the wheels turning visibly in her head.
"Njet! We need to dramatically increase our popularity if we can expect to survive. Which is why we cannot afford to concede our reservation of the ballroom to the host club under any circumstances."
"Under any circumstances?" Haruhi echoed.
Somewhere under his cloak and dark wig, Nekozawa's eye twitched. "That's what I said. Under any circumstances."
"Why?" Hikaru and Kaoru looked up at Haruhi. "What do you have in mind?"
Despite Tamaki's silent pleas for her to stuff it, Haruhi said as though to herself: "It just seems to me that there's an easy solution to this problem that could end up benefiting both parties. The black magic club desperately needs to increase its popularity—popularity which we have in spades—whereas the host club is called by a sense of duty to do right by its members."
"O-only insofar as we will not be cursed," Tamaki added in a meek voice.
"The answer is simple," Haruhi went on, ignoring him. "Both our clubs should share the ballroom. The black magic club gets the notoriety our presence provides, and we keep our promise and send our members off on their holiday happy. Come on, I'm surprised that didn't occur to any of you."
"But how do you suggest doing that?" the twins asked with a shrug. "We can't just split the ballroom in half."
"Yeah. Even if we do split the space, we still have to put up with their weird music and dark vibes."
"I don't like the sound of that," Honey pouted.
But there was a wide grin planted firmly on Kyouya's lips. "But that isn't what Haruhi is suggesting. Is it, Haruhi?"
She shook her head. "I think we should combine the Christmas ball and the winter solstice thing into one party."
Tamaki and Nekozawa started. "What?" screamed the one, tearing his hair, while the other wailed, "Sacrilege!"
"Haruhi . . ." Tamaki put his hand on her shoulder in a vain attempt to draw her aside. "I realize it's because of your gentle, er, shall we say, fairer nature that you feel compelled to say such a thing—and I do believe in the purity of your intentions, honest to goodness—but we can't expect you to understand the delicate nature of this type of situation . . ."
"And why would that be?" Her expression grew darker than even the black magic club president could manage and Tamaki shivered. "Is it because I'm a commoner, Sempai?"
Tamaki slithered away murmuring something unintelligible because of the foot in his mouth.
Though in truth Nekozawa looked every bit as much the worse for wear at the mere thought of sharing the event with his arch rival. "Jesus," Haruhi muttered, "I don't see what you guys' problem is. You two are practically clones of each other—"
"I am nothing like him!" Tamaki hissed.
"I can agree to those terms," Nekozawa said.
That shut the other up right quick. Even the other members of the host club had to blink and keep from falling off their chairs at that news. They had to wonder if they had heard him right.
"If it's a matter of my club's survival, I am willing to make a few sacrifices, even if that includes sharing this important event with my arch-nemesis. After all, who would I be to a club of ours' sort if I did not understand the principle of sacrifice?"
Perhaps with some sense of pride at being considered a nemesis, Tamaki straightened and sobered. "Thank you, Nekozawa-sempai. I think you just saved my skin."
Haruhi sighed in relief. "See what happens when you men put aside your differences?"
"However," said the other, "the host club will have to make some concessions of its own. I warn you, Suou, this will not be some cute pageant you can make all lovey-dovey and put Santas and snowmen all over."
"You have a deal," said Kyouya, though it seemed to be Nekozawa who was making the deal with the Devil and not the other way around. "We will let the black magic club have primary creative control—within a few limits, of course. On one tiny little condition. A technicality, really. But without it, the whole deal is off and we will contest your reservation of the ballroom to the fullest extent within our power."
"Kyouya, what are you doing?" Tamaki stage-whispered, but Nekozawa bravely agreed, "Anything."
After all, it was only one condition, and he said a little one at that.
Big mistake. Kyouya flashed him a charming grin, which could only mean one thing.
"You and your club officers' bodies shall belong to the host club for one night. In short, you will become hosts yourself."
Nekozawa's confidence evaporated as the realization of what hell he had doomed himself and his club to slowly sank in. What had he done? He should have known better than to fall for Kyouya's innocent airs. Behold the awesome power of the shadow king!
As though on cue, a loud, high-pitched peal of laughter filled the air, and the high-powered motor hidden beneath the third music room floor started up like a rumble of thunder, shaking the very walls themselves. The crystals on the chandeliers rattled. The water in Honey's glass rippled. Nekozawa paled. It was truly a portent of a coming disaster; and he realized then that there was something even greater to fear than the vice president, as a door opened in the middle of the floor and a revolving platform slowly rose out of it, topped like a wedding cake by her, looming ominous like a colossus over the proceedings—the Gorgons' long-lost fourth sister, his worst nightmare, the host club's self-appointed manager and signboard girl.
Houshakuji Renge.
"Wonderful!" she practically sang as the platform came to a stop with a reverberating clunk and hiss of pistons. "They say a dream is a wish your heart makes, and O how I have dreamt of this day: the day when Nekozawa Umehito, black magic club president, would return to me seeking my guidance!" And she clasped her hands in joy.
"Who's seeking?" he started to mumble, but she leaped down and pointed her dreaded finger at him and he panicked like it were a beam of pure sunlight penetrating his defenses.
"I admire your courage," she said. "The first step to change is admitting you need help." Although Nekozawa wasn't the only one wondering who had admitted what. "Your training begins tomorrow at sixteen hundred hours sharp, soldier! Be there or don't bothering showing your face on Friday!"
Nekozawa snapped to a frightened attention. "Yes, ma'am!"
Drill Sergeant Renge began pacing the room with hands behind her back. "They say you can't turn a sow's ear into a silk purse. Well, I say there's no reason we can't turn a silk purse into Prada." She made a fist. "With my help, this year's Christmas Saturnalia will be an affair Ouran Academy won't soon forget!"
And the heavens trembled and her eyes shone like fire, and the host club was very afraid indeed.
All except Kyouya, of course, who looked very satisfied as he clapped Nekozawa on the back, nearly knocking him over, and said, "It's been a pleasure doing business with you."
tsuzuku
