The bright red, neon MgRonald'ssign sparkled invitingly as Kyoya got into line, behind a middle-aged man of graying hair. Kyoya himself had been feeling a bit hungry, as he hadn't eaten since before Haruhi, Mori, and himself had left the Academy. Apparently the others' stomachs had been equally deprived, and a startlingly eager Haruhi had practically begged him to go to MgRonald's once the Shadow King had mentioned it being there. Mori had nodded in agreement, and so Kyoya found himself in line, at this den of cuisine iniquity.

Naturally, with such an expansive mind(and a moderate amount of time on his hands), he had a lot to occupy it.

First his mind drifted to Tamaki. He couldn't help but shake the feeling that this...quest of theirs was for nothing. Perhaps Tamaki was happier in France. In which case, what would become of their Club? Kyoya couldn't manage it himself. No, as much as the Ootori boy hated to admit it, he needed Tamaki. Kyoya was a dog before he'd met Tamaki, following his father around and wagging his tail and rolling over for even the slightest ounce of approval. But no, his father had two other prize winning dogs, and so Kyoya was the one that had to sleep outside. Until of course he'd met Tamaki. The blonde had showed him that he'd never needed his father's approval to do as he dreamed, to be free from his leash.

All he needed was a strong enough pair of teeth.

But, as he knew best, wherever Tamaki went, those dastardly henchmen of his followed.

And so as Tamaki had drifted through his mind, the twins entered, whirl winding about and knocking everything out of order. Not unlike them, of course, but did they really have to happen along at such a crucial moment? He did hope that they were taking care of Honi. If they weren't, he wasn't sure he could get Mori's hands out of their skulls. Scratch that, Kyoya was certain he couldn't. And the thrashing Mori would most likely institute upon them would be so terrible even he wouldn't be able to flinch.

Speaking of Mori, the giant Host had been severely testing Kyoya. Not that he blamed Mori, or course, for it was just the way he was wired. But the black-haired boy was simply unreadable. His stoic persona and constant poker face were so steely that not even the Shadow King could break through. It frustrated Kyoya immensely. He could guess that it was just that with the other Hosts, they all wore their emotions right on their sleeves, so Kyoya had no need to waste any effort deducing what emotional state they were in. It was written all over their faces. With Mori it had been an entirely different story.

Different story...

And then he found himself thinking of her. The fiery spinner that had come surging into his life and had knocked him off his damn feet.

That first day she'd entered into the Club, he'd found her act to be...amusing or, at least, odd. Over time the whole thing(especially after the rest of the club had awoken) began to less amuse him and more...intriguehim. This special case of person, unlike rich upperclassmen because she was not born into greatness. Unlike her fellow middleclassmen because she was willing to fight to be great, instead of wallow in her own entropy. She was intriguing because she challenged him. Any woman he had ever met and taken a liking to was instantly all his, never to be swayed. There was no thrill. The Host Club had been no different. Any clients he took needed but a kiss of the hand and a few sweet lies and they would swoon about him forever. With her...

She defied him.

It would not have taken the minimal amount of effort to have her fall for him. It would have taken months, maybe even years, of false, pretentious labor for her to love him. Perhaps Kyoya would have proven his prediction true, had the "false" part been out of the question.

But he loved her now. It was impossible.

He had to navigate her moral world, keep up his appearance of ice and apathy(though she could crumble that wall as though it were made of sand), and make sure that his Host tendencies did not surface around her. One wrong move, one seemingly fake gesture of love towards her that she'd seen him do to so many and then toss them away, and they'd be over before they even began.

Not only did she challenge him, she challenged everything he thought he knew about anything. She had taught him lessons the most skilled of teachers had no clue about. When he'd made it appear as though he would take advantage of her to prove a point, she hadn't been writhing about and begging him to take her. She'd turned his lesson around and fired it right back in his face.

She made him work for her.

Yes indeed, Kyoya Ootori was in love with Haruhi Fujioka.

"Uhm, sir?" a kind voice spoke.

Kyoya's head snapped up abruptly. It suddenly occurred to the Ootori that he'd been standing at the front of the line staring blankly ahead. And several moderately testy customers were standing behind him.

"Forgive my lack of attention," he replied to the cashier, a moderately tall teenager with orange eyes, and a peculiar shade of dark green hair.

"Oh no, it's no problem at all, man," he said. "So what'll it be?"

Kyoya's finger immediately shot to his lip, as he examined the menu.

'What would she like?' he thought.

"Sir," the cashier piped up, after several minutes of no solution. "Might I suggest our special for today? Its fries and tuna slices. Bargain deal too! 631 yen, I think."

Kyoya's eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

The instant he was done telling Kyoya about the special, the Shadow King's fist slammed down onto the counter with the exact amount of yen already in hand.

"Done! I'll have three!"

The frightened teenager placed Kyoya's order on a slip of binder paper, not unlike that which the Shadow King's notebook often played host to, and had it sent back into the kitchen.

"S-step to the right, sir. Your food will be right out."

Kyoya did as the cashier instructed, stepping to the right and sitting down at one of the multitude of tables. Across from him, he had neglected to notice, was a short, pale man, black hair tied back in a ponytail. He was clad in a plain purple shirt and long, tan flannel pants. The man's skin was red and raw near the forearms, like he'd been sunburned severely. He was currently tearing his teeth into a burger, tomato and onion and meat and bun crunching under his jaws.

"Forgive me, I didn't see you there," Kyoya said curtly and moved to get up, but his acquaintance stopped him before he could bow and leave.

"Seat's empty, Mon Ami," he said, his voice gravelly and with just a hint of a French accent. "I've no extra luggage or persons. No harm in sitting."

"Well if it's no offense to you, sir," Kyoya replied as he sat back down. The man raised his head slowly, taking in Kyoya with electric green eyes. They were studious, like they eyes of a scientist who'd just found the most peculiar thing under their microscope.

"You look like a boy with an objective. Where are you off to this fine evening?"

"Germany. I have a friend over the border that got himself into some bad business."

"Must've been something pretty terrible for you to travel halfway across the world-"

A startling shriek cut through his voice and the bustling of the crowd around them, a very female one. The entire assemblage went dead quiet as it rang out. Kyoya's senses ran dead. He knew that voice.

"If you'll excuse me," he said at nearly the speed of light as he got up from his table and ran off towards wherever Haruhi's scream had come from. People, for some reason Kyoya didn't have the focus to notice at the moment, had begun to flee in panic away from a particular terminal, many screaming with voices loud enough and frightening enough to match Haruhi's. Poking his head high over the seas of rushing bodies to look at the identification sign of the terminal, his dread was now insurmountable.

BERLIN, GERMANY, 4:30 PM

His feet moved faster than they'd ever moved in his life. Fighting through the masses of airport-goers, the Shadow King could distinctly remember kicking at a couple of the insolent cowards to get them out of his way. Normally, he would've been a bit more polite about his rush, but at this point they didn't matter to him at all. All that really mattered was that something had happened at Haruhi and Mori's terminal, and it was enough to cause mass panic. It couldn't be good.

Finally, the ocean of commoners parted, and Kyoya was greeted with a most interesting sight.

Just as he had predicted, Yoshio Ootori had indeed sent men of the Black Onion private police force to lock down said terminal, though Yoshio had surprised even his most brilliant son with this move. He'd thought his father would think him eager to retrieve Tamaki, and he'd board the first flight to France in his supposed blindness. He hadn't accounted for Yoshio's contingency.

Two of the men had been downed, and Mori stood between the unconscious men, his fist raised high and a dark look on his face. Haruhi stood behind him, utterly terrified but unhurt.

An instantaneous sense of relief washed over Yoshio's son. Haruhi was alright, and the panic had been mostly folly.

"Master Kyoya," a portly Black Onion said, clearing his throat. "Under orders from Master Yoshio, this aircraft and terminal are both being held under extreme lockdown in the event of your attempting to board. Master Yoshio also requested that you return to either Ouran Academy or the Ootori family home. The decision is yours, but the aircraft is not one of said options."

'Not one of my options...'

It all had come down to this. This crucial, essential moment. He could see in the eyes of the other two that the decision was up to him. They trusted him wholeheartedly, and would choose whatever path he did, however unsightly the end result might be. And however unsightly his decision might be. How unwise they were.

Could he be trusted with such a monumental burden?

He looked to Mori, the other Host's fist raised high in a blazing arc, ready to deliver swift retribution onto any who dared approach. He looked over to Kyoya, and onyx met onyx as Mori searched through him. Those eyes were looking for any sign of hesitation, any millimeter of doubt that could jeopardize their mission.

Kyoya showed none. And so Mori's buried fears were set at ease.

Next his gaze met Haruhi's, a look of steel interlaced with fear. She put off a tough exterior, as she would never back down an inch in the face of the Black Onion men.

But Kyoya knew her better than these men. He knew what scared her, what gave her want to flee, and what would cause her to stand her ground against anybody.

Her friends.

Both her and Mori wanted to get on that plane. Both her and Mori wanted to get Tamaki back. Who was Kyoya to let them down?

Pinching his nose in mock defeat, although wearing a large grin, the Ootori boy spoke softly to Mori "Excuse me, Mori-sempai, but how many of the Black Onion are here?"

A gruff "Three," was his only response.

One light, almost silent, venomous chuckle escape Kyoya's throat, and his glasses flashed confidently. He could've swore that the men currently blocking their path were sweating ever so slightly under their helmets.

"Dispose of them at your leisure sempai," he declared. "Haruhi and I shall board and await you."

Now they were definitely sweating. Kyoya didn't need to see their faces to know that. Right now they didn't have time.

Seeing that two of the men had joined their hands to block the passage, Kyoya quickly grabbed Haruhi's slender hand and tossed her in a slide in between their legs. He followed her through the gap, biting into one of their attackers' gloved hands as they reached for him. Kyoya crashed right into Haruhi knocking over the crossdresser before grabbing her hand and lifting her to her feet. He pushed her down the corridor, yelling "Run! I'll meet you there!"

He only saw her nod before she ran for her life and rounded the passage's bend and was gone. Kyoya followed her, hearing loud smacks! and oofs! as Mori no doubt wiped the floor with the less-experienced men behind them.

As Kyoya entered the plane, he saw a familiar face.

"Aye, my friend," the Ponytail-haired (French? Kyoya couldn't yet decide) man from the Mgronald's said, sitting lazy in the pilot's seat about thirty feet from Kyoya. "Coincidence, no? That you and your girlfriend are on the plane I'm piloting...how peculiar. Or, well...acquiring, shall we say."

"WHHUU?" Kyoya blustered. "Gi-girlfriend? Well, only in my wildest dreams-"

"Excuse me?" voiced an incredulous Haruhi from a seat near the man.

" That's b-beside the point! Why are you here, sir? We're in the middle of committing a grievous crime."

"Then it seems the fates align us again, boy," the Frenchman said. 'I was in the middle of the same thing."

Kyoya didn't have time to ponder that thought, as Mori came running into the plane so fast he nearly bowled over the younger boy.

"Done," he said, a trickle of sweat running down his face.

Kyoya almost cheered. Other than his most unexpected guest apparently about to fly them to who knows where, their plan couldn't be going more smoothly.

"So you are who and are flying us to...?" Haruhi asked, unsure whether or not he would in fact fly them to Germany, as he too was stealing.

And none of the three of them knew how to fly.

" The name's Remi Andrepont and to Berlin," he replied nonchalantly. Remi turned the chair and spoke in a hearty tone to his three passengers.

"Hold onto your helmets, people!"

And then they began to move.

Question of the Episode: Anyone envision a Rosario Vampire/Ouran Crossover?

*roll end credits*