Kyoya recoils at the blow. "F-father…" He raises his head to face his aggressor. "Are you not glad to see your own son?"

The man sneers. "You are no son of mine.

"It's nice to see you, too. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know."

"Apparently, exile makes the mind grow weaker. Have you forgotten exactly what you've done?"

"It all blurred together after a while," says Hikaru, smirking.

"S-sir," begins Tamaki. "I don't think you've met Haruhi yet. She's—"

"Quiet." The man that Kyoya called "Father" stares at Haruhi with an unreadable expression. "She's your latest debtor, is she not? I'm scared to ask what you've let the Five Souls do to her."

"We haven't done anything like that!" protests Kaoru. "Just some odd jobs… and…" he trails off once he sees a young man with long blonde hair running towards the group assembled at full speed.

Kyoya bristles. "He just had to show up, didn't he…"

"He was invited, Kyoya, just as he has been every year. He has the right to be here."

Haruhi gasps the moment she recognizes him and breaks away from the group to meet him. "You!"

The boy doesn't react to her. Instead, the moment the two meet, he throws his arms around her.

"You're the one who tried to bring me back to life, aren't you?"

He reluctantly slackens his hold on her. "Yes," he murmurs.

"Well… thank you for that."

Kyoya clears his throat. "You have no business talking to her, Nekozawa."

Haruhi glares at him. "He can speak to me if he wants to me if he wants to."

Kyoya starts to say something, but he is brought to a halt by a hand on his shoulder. "I think it's time that we settled some things." Kyoya's father's face was serene, but his tone was cold. "First of all, I should introduce myself. Haruhi Fujioka, I am the Overseer of the Go-Betweens." He gestures towards Umehito. "This is Umehito Nekozawa, the mediator of the Ouran go-between."

The mediator nods in confirmation. "It's a pleasure to officially meet you."

Haruhi, dumbfounded, returns the sentiment. "How are things, back in…" she pauses, looking for the right words. "...the other world?"

Umehito shrugs. "The Host Club," his eyes sweep over Tamaki and the Five Souls, "The real one, mind you, is looking for you."

Haruhi shakes her head. "That sounds ridiculous. They don't even know me."

"True enough, but they did try to help you before you passed."

"Not that any of it matters now," purrs Kyoya. "She's dead, isn't she?"

Haruhi flinches at the word.

"She can't go back as long as she's in our debt."

The Overseer places his hand on Kyoya's shoulder. "I've been meaning to ask you about that. Just what is her debt?"

The young man blinks. "She broke the urn, waking us up. I think the debt is whatever we say it is."

His father looks ready to slap him again. "That's for me to decide. I'm the one who put you there, aren't I?"

There is some grumbling among the Souls at this.

"I can just as easily put you back. It'd be easy."

"Please. If we're imprisoned, Haruhi comes with us. She's bound to us now."

Umehito's hand closes around Haruhi's. She doesn't notice.

In reply, the Overseer reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a flask. He fiddles with the lid, staring at Kyoya with an eyebrow raised. "If you release the girl, we can all talk like civilized people. If you don't release the girl, then you'll all be trapped. It's your choice, you lot."

The Five Souls exchange glances. Kyoya shakes his head subtly, and the rest seem to agree.

"Haruhi belongs to us, and there's nothing that'll change tha—"

"— I release Haruhi from her debt on behalf of the Five Souls." Kyoya, Hikaru, Kaoru, and Honey whirl around to stare at Mori. He has his usual blank expression, as though nothing had happened.

"Fantastic." The Overseer pockets his flask, only half-smiling. "Now we can get down to business. Tamaki?"

He snaps to attention. "Yes, sir?"

"You may deliver your verdict."

Nekozawa releases Haruhi's hand. "Wait, no! Not yet."

"Is there something wrong, Mediator?"

The mediator begins to shake. "No, it's not that, it's just…" he bites his lip. "It's been a pleasure, but I must be going." He mutters something that sounds like, "I should've seen this coming" before he vanishes without a trace.

"I should've seen this coming," murmurs Kyoya. He had hung up the phone roughly five minutes ago, and the conversation still runs through his mind. Ryoji Fujioka is on the floor, and he is not breathing. There is no saving him this time. "I should've seen this coming."

Light begins pulsing through the window, and the sound of sirens intensifies. Just as the door clicks open, though, the room disappears. Ryoji disappears, as do the sirens and the light. They are all replaced with black.

The darkness, however, is pierced by candles. Kyoya squints, and he can just make out the figure of a boy in a black cloak. "Nekozawa, is that you?"

He hears a sigh. "Good, you're awake. It would seem the rest were asleep. Just step carefully."

He nearly asks what that means when his gaze falls to the floor to see six unconscious bodies: those of his fellow club members, as well as Renge's. They are all sleeping peacefully. "Should we wake them up?"

"I suppose we'll have to, at some point. We'll need them for what I have planned."

"If you say so." Kyoya kneels next to Tamaki and gently pokes at his face.

"Mm… Club's closed for today, princess…"

"I'm not your princess. That is, unless you want me to be."

Tamaki opens his eyes sleepily. "That'd be nice."

"You've got to wake up now, alright?"

"I'll do whatever you say, princess."

As Kyoya moves to wake the others, Tamaki wraps his arms around his ankle. "Don't leave me!"

The twins begin to stir. "What's going on?"

"I don't think you want to know, Kaoru. Just get up. And wake up the others, will you?"

Soon enough, the seven students collect themselves and stand before Nekozawa. "To tell the truth, I'm not even sure that this will work, but let me explain something: If we go through with this plan, it'll be like none of this ever happened. You'll forget that Haruhi ever died, that anything that happened in the past few days actually took place. Are you alright with that?"

Tamaki shifts his weight nervously. "Would it still bring Haruhi back?"

"If it goes according to plan, yes. If it doesn't go according to plan… well, there's really nothing to lose."

Renge's voice pierces the silence that Nekozawa leaves in his wake. "Then I think we should go through with it. Things can't possibly be worse than they are now… right?" She slowly realized her mistake and crouched to knock on the wooden floor.

"Very well." Nekozawa motioned the others to stand in front of the mirror, which was still there from earlier in the evening. "For now, all we need to do is wait."

Kyoya hands Tamaki the black binder that contains the profiles of the Ouran student body, and without much effort, he flips to her page.

"Relatively new to the academy… not particularly well-off… hm."

"Gryffindor!" mutters Hikaru, earning a glare from Kyoya. "What?"

Tamaki cuts Kyoya off before he can make any kind of snarky remark. "She shall have the choice of her fate."

The Overseer grins smugly. "So be it."

"Wait."

"Is there something the matter, Kyoya?"

"It's nothing important, but there's just a small matter of business before Haruhi leaves."

"Well, get on with it."

The Soul takes a deep breath, turning to Haruhi. "Wherever you end up, I think you ought to have this."

He hands her his notebook. "It's a record of everything that's happened. I figured you may as well have it."

Before Haruhi has a chance to protest or question, the courtyard disappeared. Kyoya disappeared, as did the rest of the Souls, Tamaki, and the Overseer. They were all replaced with white.

Haruhi finds herself alone in a long white room, with a mirror on either end. She takes a small step towards one end, and her footsteps echo softly. Tamaki's voice fills the room, making her jump: "Choose one. There's no need to be scared of anything."

Haruhi nods, and the voice is silenced. She closes the distance between herself and the mirror she faces, and is nearly sick.

In the mirror, she sees not herself, but her father. He's being zipped into a bag… she can't see his face anymore. Why…

"Should you choose to live, this is what awaits you." There is no sympathy in Tamaki's voice. It's strangely monotonous. She turns away; it's too much to take in. She nearly runs to the other mirror, in hopes that it will hold something nicer. After all, anything would be better than what she has just seen. She is not disappointed by the figure that stands within the mirror.

"...Mom?"

Kotoko smiles. "I've missed you, Haruhi."

The girl reaches up to stroke the mirror. Her fingers sink into it as though it is nothing. "I've missed you, too…"

"Should you choose to pass to the afterlife, this is what awaits you."

"Then I think I've made my choice."

"It's been a pleasure to know you, Haruhi."

"Same to—"

"—Haruhi!" The voice is familiar, but it is muffled, as though it is shouting through a window. A third mirror has appeared on the long wall between the other two.

"Nekozawa?" She reluctantly abandons the mirror that her mother stands behind and makes her way to the new one. A cloaked boy stands behind it, accompanied by what can only be the real host club. Also… "Renge?"

The girl beams. "You remember me!"

Haruhi doesn't bother to respond. "What are you doing here?"

"We came to offer a third option," declares the boy in the cloak, with Nekozawa's voice.

"But I already made my choice."

"Look, just hear me out. If you pass through this mirror, it'll be as though you never died. Your father would still be there, the five souls never would have been released… what do you say?"

She glances back at her mother. "I don't know…"

"Please say that you will."

Kotoko nods, ever so softly. "It's alright," she seems to say. Haruhi knows that it will be. They'll meet again someday, but that doesn't mean that it has to be now. She turns back to the third mirror. "I'll do it."

She takes a step towards the mirror, but a sudden bit of commotion behind the mirror stops her. Kyoya stands before her now. "If you could give this to me, once you arrive…" he holds out a black journal, just like the one that his demon counterpart had given Haruhi moments before, The journal passes through to Haruhi's side of the mirror. "It's a record of everything that's happened. I'll be interested to know about it."

Haruhi tucks it under her arm, nodding. "I'll see what I can do."

"Also," adds Renge, "If you find me…" she quickly unties a ribbon from her hair. "Nekozawa told me that it would help me remember. If you could give this to me, as well, I'd be grateful."

Haruhi ties the ribbon around the two notebooks. "No problem. Is that all?"

The eight people behind the mirror exchange glances. "I think that's all," Nekozawa murmurs. "I'll see you on the other side."

Haruhi smirks. "Literally." Without a second thought, she steps through the mirror.

The hall is dizzyingly long and wide. Or perhaps it is only long and wide, but the dizziness was already there. After the ordeal with the Five Souls, Haruhi has quite forgotten how dizzy she was that day… well, is. She feels awful. It's like a pair of hands are squeezing her head. There's not much time before she loses consciousness, she notes, so she may as well make it count. The door to the third music room is within reach. She lurches toward it and grips the handle as a sort of anchor to keep her from collapsing. She pulls with the last of her remaining strength until, at last, it gives, knocking her onto her hindside. She can tell that she's beginning to black out, but she fights it. Soon enough, six heads come into view. "Fujioka?"

There is no mistaking it: that is the voice of Hikaru Hitachiin. She nearly laughs. "You probably don't remember any of it, do you?"

Kaoru furrows his brow. "What are you talking about?"

But Haruhi hasn't the strength to answer. Her world is safe, so she doesn't need to worry anymore. As the Host Club stares at her in confusion, her eyes roll back and she passes out.

A/N: Sometimes this feels more like a script than a story. *sigh* Oh, well… At least I've got it typed out now. It's a hot mess, though.

Apologies,

Lagoon