It should probably be noted that I follow manga canon more than anime canon. Nekozawa makes a lot more appearances in the manga. Most notably, the episode where they all went to the beach house- you know, the one with that scene with Kyouya?- that actually took place on Nekozawa's property, and it was there that we discovered his blond-ness. It was rad.
More love to my wicked cool beta, Leafygirl.
The flickering, uncertain light of the candelabras cast dark, exaggerated shadows across the dim room, dancing erratically in the light breeze as Nekozawa breathed steadily, concentrating.
He sat silently on the floor in a magic circle he had drawn around a dark altar, adorned with ancient relics of unfathomable power, cat-shaped representations of evil deities, dripping candle wax, twisted daggers, the occasional drop of blood, and one empty Coke bottle not yet discarded. It was here that he performed his nightly worship, thanked the dark forces for their continued divine protection, offered his eternal services, and (if it wasn't too much to ask,) beseeched them to help Kirimi overcome her fear of the darkness. As ever, Bereznoff sat with him, listening quietly. Bereznoff did not have to pray.
The small flames of the candles jumped, threatening to go out as Nekozawa exhaled in a drawn out sigh. Raising his arms above his head to stretch out his back and fall into a more relaxed position, he finished his ritual and broke his concentration, turning his eyes up towards the light of the candles with some disinterest. The spiritual exercise was a little draining, but the more he did it, surely, the more powerful he would become. Mindlessly, he picked up a tarot deck and began to shuffle it, allowing his thoughts to wander in a sleepy, post-magic daze. He thought that he would like to have some tea in a moment, when he was ready to stand up, and then perhaps go to sleep, although maybe he should start reading that book for class. Idly, Nekozawa turned over the card on the top of the deck.
The two of cups. Love and friendship.
The same as Haruhi's.
Haruhi.
It was impossible now for his thoughts not to linger on the underclassman. An image of bright eyes and a warm smile came to mind; an image of a dark theater and a tug at his sleeve, of soft, feminine hands as he traced the grooves worn into her palm, of an annoyed roll of brown eyes, Paradise Lost, and the sound of rain on glass. A shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his chest warmed- for a moment he could feel his heartbeat, as it seemed to be trying to pound out a message in Morse code. Nekozawa stared at the card for a while, and placed it on the altar.
So. Even the Powers That Be were trying to point him somewhere. Perhaps his club members weren't so idiotic, after all. They had been trying to tell him all along something that took the flip of a card for him to understand. He could try to rationalize it all he wanted, but he couldn't deny that he'd spend more time in a day thinking about Haruhi than he would thinking about just about anything else, even curses. He would exhaust his brain trying to think of excuses to see her, and what he would say if he did. His actions with her were different than when he was with anyone else. By now, it was safe to say that his feelings for her ran a little deeper than simple platonic affection.
How deep, he did not know.
The flame of one of the candles sizzled then, as if trying to call his attention. The hot wax pooling at the wick, having just been melted by the fire, now dripped a crevasse out the side of the candle and slid down, falling off the base to pool lightly beside his tarot deck, where it cooled and re-solidified. Nekozawa stared at it, as if trying to decipher it, when out of the corner of his eye he saw Bereznoff staring back at him. Backlit before the candlelight, the cat glared at his puppeteer, as if scolding him for forgetting something important. There was a very simple solution to this, this confusion.
The sorcerer then looked around, noticing his altar as if he had forgotten where he was sitting. Dark forces seemed to be emanating from the area, surrounding him, enticing him, reminding him of his very special talents that would be perfect for this situation, of how easily he could get what he wanted if he would just draw on their power.
Magic.
No, Nekozawa resisted, shaking his head. Not this time. Not for this. What he was feeling was too real, embedded too deeply, coming from a place within him he didn't dare meddle with, for fear of only cursing himself. If Haruhi was ever going feel anything for him, he wanted it to happen naturally, unaided by his black arts. Or at least… not yet.
The puppet stared at him patiently.
Although, he thought to himself, pondering, I don't have to cast a very powerful spell… perhaps just something to plant the idea, and let things flow from there…
Bereznoff seemed to smile at that, though perhaps it was just the lighting in the room making it appear that way. Nekozawa picked up one of his heavy leather-bound spell books, and turned to exactly the right page, as if he'd been told where to look. He stared at the inscriptions, seeing it without reading it, torn with indecision.
Finally, with a defeated sigh, he snapped the book shut. He could immediately feel the anger of the black magic surrounding him, offended that he would deny this opportunity. Bereznoff continued to stare, as if to say, 'I haven't given up yet. You've cast this spell before.'
But that ended horribly, Nekozawa reminded his familiar, recalling the very brief relationship he'd held with a classmate two years ago after casting a love spell. The spell had worn off, her feelings faded, and finally, as if in punishment for tampering with such powerful emotions, her opinion of him reversed and she came to hate him. All his attempts to sway her to the contrary only seemed to intensify her feelings of dislike, until he had given up. He wouldn't let that happen again- especially not with Haruhi.
"I should be able to do it myself," he said aloud, anger and perhaps a hint of embarrassment tinting his voice. "If Suoh can do it, surely I can as well!"
Bereznoff continued to stare, never judging, neither confirming nor denying, only seeming to say, 'just think about it. When this new one's feelings are still unknown to you, you'll become impatient. We'll be here to speed this process up.'
Nekozawa turned away, but he could still feel Bereznoff staring at him with his angry fabric eyes. Standing up, he began blowing out the candles, averting his gaze from the doll, all the while wondering if maybe he'd put just a few too many enchantments on this cat-shaped assortment of felt and glue which seemed to know so much. He was actually starting to wonder just who the puppet was.
To Nekozawa's great surprise (and probably the surprise of anyone else who might have known) it was Haruhi who next sought him out. And on purpose, even. She came up to him very suddenly in the second library one afternoon, finding him in a dark corner of the biographies section where others rarely came (thus the appeal, in his opinion).
"Oh!" she exclaimed as she caught a glimpse of his gloomy black cowl, and smiled. "There you are, Senpai."
"Oh, Haruhi!" He turned to her in surprise. "Hello. May I help you with something...?"
He realized when he said it that it may have sounded like a brush-off, and bit his lip nervously. "I mean, sorry. It's very nice to see you. I was just… were you looking for me…?"
"You know, you're very much like a ghost, Nekozawa-Senpai," she stated plainly, surprising him slightly. "You come out of nowhere when I'm not expecting you, but when I need to find you, you're nowhere in sight."
He beamed, a delighted smile stretching across his face at both the comparison to a spirit, and to the idea that Haruhi had been looking for him.
"I thank you for the compliment," he grinned eerily, his hood lowering over his eyes. "I do my best to meet expectations. Now, to what end do you seek my council? If it's a spell you need cast, I'll give you the Friends-of-Black-Magic discount. In fact, I would do it for free just for kicks," he added with a low chuckle.
"Actually," she began, "I was hoping you had a book I could borrow. I remembered we were talking about Paradise Lost a while ago, and thought maybe you might have this one as well, since it sort of seemed your style. I wanted to borrow it from one of the libraries, but I can't seem to find it, and I would go buy it but I thought I'd maybe see if you happened to have it first, and would loan it to me."
"I will absolutely help you, it would be my pleasure," he replied, smiling in a manner that belied his dark demeanor and would have surely confused and possibly frightened anyone passing by. "What is this book?"
(If he didn't have it, he would go and buy it.)
"William Blake, Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience. Do you have it?"
"Oh!" he exclaimed, "I do have that!" And he really did have that. "You're right, I love his poetry. Have you read it before?"
"I've been meaning to, but haven't had the opportunity," she replied.
"Well, it pleases me to be the one to present you with that opportunity," Nekozawa smiled. "I'll bring it to school tomorrow, or do you need it sooner? I can swing it by your house tonight if you'd like…"
"No no, at school is fine." She smiled a little awkwardly. "But I don't want to hunt you down again. Where should I meet you?"
Nekozawa folded his arms in thought, and hummed. "I don't have a club meeting tomorrow, but maybe you can meet me at the club room after school…?"
"That's fine. I'm glad. Thank you very much, Nekozawa-Senpai! You've saved me some trouble!" She bowed gratefully.
"Think nothing of it," he replied, waving his hand dismissively. Haruhi cocked her eyebrow curiously then, as if she suddenly realized that something was wrong.
"…Did you lose Bereznoff again?" she asked. Nekozawa blinked, and looked at his bare hand.
"Oh… wow, you are observant," he laughed, impressed. "No, he's at home today. Bereznoff and I had a bit of a… disagreement last night."
Haruhi chose not to question it.
Bereznoff had not given up. From his place at the altar he continued to stare at the stubborn boy, as patient as ever.
Suoh's talents are Suoh's talents. Your talents are your talents. Use them!
"I don't need to," Nekozawa insisted, rummaging though his bookshelf, leaving piles of discarded books on the floor. "You're starting to annoy me, Bereznoff."
He couldn't hear anything, but Bereznoff's irritation seemed palpable throughout the room.
"Really," Nekozawa continued, "Haruhi came to me today, on purpose even. I believe I have a chance to do this without manipulating anyone's feelings. You know how I feel about love spells, Bereznoff," he bit, turning an angry glare towards the doll.
The doll angrily glared back.
A moment of heated silence passed. Finally, Nekozawa turned away, running an aggravated hand through his pale blond hair.
"I know I own this book. I just wish I knew where I put it!"
You are looking on the wrong shelf.
The boy glanced at Bereznoff briefly and then sighed, standing up. He brushed a platinum blond lock behind his ear.
"I need to invent some method of organization."
As per their agreement, Nekozawa and Haruhi met the next day at the Black Magic Club office after class. Nekozawa had finally found the book after forty five minutes of searching, and exhausted, had left his room in disarray to be reorganized (or organized at all) later. As usual, when Haruhi entered, Nekozawa was already there, reading by candlelight.
"I can't imagine that's very good for your eyes," she commented as she crossed the room towards him, drawing his attention. "Reading in the dark." He smiled slowly, snapping the book shut.
"After all these years, I think it would be reading in anything but darkness that would damage my vision," he replied. "Unless the material was written on black paper, perhaps. Now! What is this assignment of yours?" Nekozawa held up the book with a sly smile, one that seemed to convey the message that she wasn't going to get away with just taking the book and leaving, she would have to stay a while first. Unbothered, Haruhi sat across from him on the couch, making herself comfortable.
"We're supposed to take two poems from the same author and write a comparative paper," she explained. "More people picked Blake than I expected- unless I just got lost in the massive library system at this school and don't know where to look," she added a little dryly.
"Ah, what a perfect subject you've picked to fit this project," he beamed, delighting in the conversation. "Many of these poems were meant to be read as contradiction to one another."
"That's what I'd heard."
"Do you mind staying for a bit? I'd love to hear your thoughts," he asked a little excitedly, and Haruhi could tell that he was very interested in the subject. Perhaps he wanted to have an intelligent conversation on literature with someone outside of his club, which he likely got very few chances to do. Likewise intrigued to hear his opinions, Haruhi agreed. She also didn't have very many people she could have a deep conversation with about poetry, and anyhow, had a feeling that Nekozawa would have a very unique perspective.
While at first he had only intended to read her his favorites, because the poems were quite short the two of them ended up reading nearly all and discussing them at great length. Haruhi had even taken out a notebook and begun writing notes for her paper based on their conversation. Each of them provided insight that the other wouldn't have thought of; Nekozawa was fascinated by Haruhi's analytical abilities, and Haruhi was impressed at Nekozawa's emotional insight. Between the two of them they ended up going through each line of each poem and discussing all possible interpretations for it. And when they had run out of things to say about the words, they began discussing the illustrations, dissecting the meaning behind each colour and shape, and whether it was meant to be read as a part of the poetry or just to accentuate it.
It was a great relief for both of them to be able to hold a real conversation about a subject they were interested in with another person. Until that point, Haruhi had assumed she was the only one in the school who wanted to read and learn and debate, and Nekozawa had resigned himself to thinking that even if someone did have an interesting opinion, they wouldn't want to share it with him (he hoped for fear of getting cursed, but knew the reasons were largely more shallow than that). Before they knew it, several hours had passed, and it was well into evening. Haruhi had a book full of notes, and was trying to narrow down which poems she should write her paper on.
"Maybe Tyger and Lamb. I took a lot of notes for them, I bet it could be a good paper," she pondered. Nekozawa shook his head in disagreement
"No, no, that's so simple. Everyone knows that poem. I think you should do the two versions of Little Girl Lost, that's what I would write about."
"But both of those are in the same book, I wanted to write about one from Innocence and one from Experience."
"Okay. I have an idea." Taking out a piece of paper, Nekozawa tore it in half and wrote down the name of both poems, one on each half. Setting them on the table, he placed a pencil between the two slips and spun it.
"The forces of evil will decide for us," he explained, nodding.
"That's silly!" she exclaimed. The pencil slowed to a stop, pointing closest towards the slip reading Little Girl Lost in her senior's elegant handwriting. Nekozawa smiled wickedly.
"It has been decided."
"I'm not relying on that!" Haruhi argued. "I don't have to decide today. I'd rather think about it than leave it to chance like that."
"It isn't chance. It's fate," he corrected, that same smile still crossing his lips. "I don't believe in coincidence."
"Well, I don't believe in fate," she replied plainly. "Just circumstances and timing."
"How dull," he frowned. "After everything that's happened to you- coming to this school despite status, joining the Host Club despite disinterest- you don't think it was destiny?"
"I got into Ouran because I was the best scholarship applicant," she explained very seriously, "And I joined the Host Club because of my own accident. There were no external forces involved."
He leaned forward then, his hands folded under his chin, a light, vicious smile on his lips. His eyes caught the reflection of the candlelight from under his hood, and for an instant, the small dancing flames she saw in them entranced Haruhi. For one heart-stopping moment, Nekozawa looked every bit the spirit of darkness he presented himself to be.
"Well, I believe," he began in a low, captivating voice that caught the girl's attention. "Because I believe that during that time I lost Bereznoff, he and I had been fated to be separated there, and you had been fated to return him. He had gone to find you. And bring you back to me."
Haruhi's face suddenly felt warm, and she became aware of her own heartbeat. Somehow, the implications of what he'd said had made her a little anxious, but it wasn't just the words. It was also his deep, rich voice, the sly smile ghosting his pale lips, the glow of the candlelight on his skin, and the fire reflecting in his blue eyes like the ocean at sunset. Haruhi found herself curiously alarmed.
"And why would that be?" she asked, doing her best to hide her unease. Nekozawa stood up then, and walked around behind the couch she was sitting at. Resting his arms on the ledge directly behind her, he leaned forward, his face so close to her own he could nearly brush her skin. Haruhi fought hard against the blush creeping up her face.
"Perhaps so that you could borrow this book," he mused, "and get an excellent grade on your paper."
She could feel his warm breath on her ear, and it tickled, but she couldn't seem to convince herself to move. It was strange. Had it been Tamaki or Hikaru or Kaoru or anyone else, she would have wasted no time scooting down the sofa and out of reach. What was it that was different about the Black Magic Club president? How was he able to succeed in flustering her where no one ever had before?
The fact that she was trying so hard not to react was a sure enough sign to Nekozawa that he was affecting her. Encouraged by this, he ventured further still, placing a light hand on her shoulder and slowly, gently, grazing her sleeve with his fingers, past her bicep, her elbow, her forearm, to her wrist, where he lifted her hand, palm up, brushing his fingertips against her knuckles.
"Do you remember when I read your palm?" he asked, his voice distant and amused. When he spoke, she could feel the heat of his breath on her neck, and the dark hairs of his wig on her cheek. Haruhi shivered, and replied, "Vaguely." Nekozawa smirked.
He hadn't really been thinking about it when he'd leaned over the table and told her of his belief in destiny, but it hadn't escaped his notice that she was reacting to it, to something he was doing. The difference was subtle, but there, and he couldn't help but to think, she was responding to him. Her actions, the way her eyes widened and her shoulders tensed, enticed him. He was surprising her somehow. What else could he do to off-balance her? How much farther could he take this? What else would Haruhi do?
Reaching his other hand around her, he traced his fingers across the lines in her palm. He now had his arms around her, capturing her hand in both on his, and even he could feel the heat on her skin from the contact. He smiled devilishly.
"Do you know why I stopped here, at your line of love?" he began, running his nails lightly over one of the creases in her palm.
"Because there's nothing to say?" she offered.
"Because I wanted you to think about it," he replied, the wry smirk clear in his voice.
Haruhi frowned. Think about what? What was he getting at? She didn't understand. Was he aiming for something with this, or was he just trying to confuse her? If there was something she was supposed to be thinking about during that palm reading session, he needed to tell her because she wouldn't have known otherwise.
She thought about telling him all these things when he pulled away suddenly, releasing her hand and standing up straight, backing away from the couch. Haruhi thought that the room abruptly felt quite cold.
"It's getting late," he noted in a somewhat morose tone. "You'll probably be wanting to head back."
If he'd stayed in that position much longer, with his arms around her, whispering into her ear, he didn't know what would happen next. And he'd rather maintain more control than that, curiosity be damned.
Wordlessly agreeing, Haruhi packed up her schoolbag, and stood, beginning a short walk to the door. There, she stopped. Nekozawa was behind her.
"Thank you for loaning me this book…" She bowed gratefully, "and for helping me with my paper. You have a very unique outlook on things, Nekozawa-Senpai."
"Thank you for staying and having a conversation with me," he smiled in return. "I unfortunately get very few chances to have one. It was a pleasure."
"That's a shame," she said, tilting her head slightly. "I think more people would want to talk with you if they knew what an intelligent person you are."
He smiled abashedly. "Thank you. But you may be the only one who will ever know that. People don't… generally want to talk to me."
"Perhaps if you stopped threatening to curse every one and every thing," she retorted scoldingly, folding her arms. Nekozawa laughed.
"But then how would they ever remember who I am?" he replied, grinning mischievously, and making Haruhi giggle.
That first day she'd come by, Bereznoff in hand, and when he'd given her that fortune telling, he actually didn't suspect he would see her again after that except in passing. So he decided to leave her with something to think about, and left off half finished, in hopes that she would consider what he'd said, and maybe, curiosity would bring her back. But it seemed he was more accurate than he'd even intended. He did want Haruhi to think about love. And he wanted her to think about him.
Did she ever think of him?
She hadn't left yet. Haruhi was still looking up at him, even through his silence. He felt like there was an opportunity there, and he wanted to take it.
How much more would she let him get away with?
Tentatively, he reached his hand forward. When she did not move away from him, he continued more boldly. He brushed his pale, slender fingers across the hair in front of her face, noticing immediately that her cheeks turned a little pink. She was blushing for him. He smiled.
"You aren't frightened of me, are you?" he asked. "You never have been."
"I don't see why I should be," Haruhi replied. She was fighting hard to slow her pounding heart. "I don't believe I have anything to fear from you."
"Others would disagree," he commented. He was tracing a line down her jaw to her neck, feeling her hair rise under his touch. He smirked darkly.
"Others… judge too quickly," she responded, but found she was having a hard time articulating her words with his fingers so gently caressing her skin.
His eyes weren't reflecting any light this time, but she could still see the fire in them. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if this was how he cast spells on people, because she could not seem to compel herself to turn away. He smiled again with wicked glee.
"But not you."
"I don't take things at face value," she explained. "Appearances don't matter. Light or dark, pretty or plain, male or female, none of that matters. It only matters what sort of person you are."
Nekozawa paused. A look of amazement drifted briefly across his features. When she spoke those words, somehow, it was like an enormous weight had been lifted. Now he understood why she was so adored by her club mates and her fans. Such a pure and honest philosophy gave everyone a chance, even him.
"Thank you," Nekozawa said genuinely, and Haruhi thought that in that moment she could truly see him under his veil of darkness. "That was what I wanted to hear."
And then he did something that surprised them both. He kissed her.
The movement was so sudden that he didn't know he was even going to do it until his lips were pressed firmly against hers. It took Haruhi several seconds to realize it was happening. But when she did realize, she didn't pull away. The part that may have startled her most was not the unexpected kiss, but the fact that it didn't bother her, not at all.
Was that okay?
For a brief moment, they stayed that way.
Nekozawa pulled away abruptly, and she was struck by the sudden loss of contact. Instantly both of their faces went aflame as the weight of what had just transpired occurred to them.
Too far. He had gone too far. That was too much. He had acted impulsively, and now Haruhi would surely never speak to him again. His heart was pounding as he was overcome with guilt. What should he say after such a thing? Would she let him apologize?
"I… Haruhi, I'm-"
"I have to go," she interrupted him, avoiding his eyes. Quickly, she turned and left, closing the door behind her before he could get out another word. Nekozawa covered his burning face with his hands.
Oh, I am so stupid!
Haruhi fled the art department, walking as quickly as she could without running. She didn't know why, but she had to get away. She didn't want to be there anymore.
Nekozawa had kissed her. He'd kissed her. And she didn't fight it. Was that okay? What should she have done? What would have been the appropriate response?
Probably not running away, she realized with some regret, frowning to herself. But she couldn't think of what to do. She shouldn't be kissing boys. She didn't come to Ouran to play; she came to work.
Unconsciously, she touched her lips. Nekozawa's lips were warm, and soft.
How had it come to that? She could have prevented it. She could have moved away when he had his arms around her on the couch. She could have removed his hand when he was touching her cheek. She could have looked away, instead of staring into his eyes. What was she supposed to do now? Should she tell anyone? What would she say when she next saw Nekozawa?
Nekozawa had kissed her- her first real kiss from a boy.
Suddenly, Haruhi stopped dead in her tracks. The colour drained from her face and her blood seemed to run cold as she was struck by a terrifying realization.
…Nekozawa still thinks I'm a BOY!