Current mood:	productive
Current music:	Death Note OP
Entry tags:	fic

BOOM, HEADSHOT
So anyway, as we all know, I love Ouran, and I've been watching random episodes of the anime lately because it's the only way to control the outrageous bursts of my Tamaki-love. Because I love him so much, I've also been following the Death Note anime (the same seiyuu does both Tamaki and Light) which in turn prompted me to read the DN manga over the last couple of days. (I am most bitter about how things turned out for some characters, NOT TO NAME NAMES ;_________;)

My mind is a very disturbing place at the best of times, but mixing those two unrelated series has made me feel strange and terrible things, and thus they have come together in the most heinous of ways: CROSSOVER FANFICTION.

Yes, that's right. A crossover between Death Note and Ouran Host Club.

I don't even know where the crack came from, but it has come nevertheless, and I'm posting it here because the writing journal is simply not ready for this level of randomness. Also it's not very good - I wrote it in half an hour - but the muses, they are stupid and fickle, and this is the best I've got.

Title: If anyone has one, I'll happily take it. Currently Ouran/Death Note Crossover - REAL ORIGINAL, BEK.
Series: Ouran/Death Note
Length: 2660 words.
Rating/warnings: PG? No spoilers for either series.
Characters: Haruhi, Ryuk, Ouran ensemble.
Summary: Haruhi finds a notebook. Problems ensue.



It was, perhaps, an indication of Fujioka Haruhi's excellent powers of deduction that the first thought she had upon seeing the notebook was, “I'll have to give this back to Nekozawa-senpai as soon as I can.” Reaching such a conclusion was not only understandable but to be expected, for who more likely than the president of the Black Magic club to have dropped a book labelled “Death Note”?

It was further a testament to her unflinching bravery and collected nature that when the shinigami responsible for the notebook presented itself she didn't even bat an eyelash, instead standing in stoic astonishment while the apparition floated over to introduce itself.

“I'm Ryuk,” it told her, grinning in a satisfied sort of way, pointing at the notebook with a massive, taloned hand. “What you've got there is my--”

He didn't get to finish before Haruhi handed it across, bowing perfunctorily and taking a step back. “It's fortunate that you were close by,” she said, straightening and going to move off. “You should take more care with your belongings. What knows what would have happened if the wrong person got their hands on it?”

She'd only taken two steps before she was almost bowled over by the creature's deep, uproarious laughter. “Oh, aren't you a piece of work!” he cried, wiping his eyes and floating in front of her again. “Tell you what, human, I'll make you a deal.”

“No thanks.” Haruhi walked around him (was it a man? It had a male voice...) checking her watch to make sure she'd reach the market in time. It was half-price seafood from six to seven pm, and she was sick to death of vegetables every night.

The shinigami followed her. “You haven't even heard the terms yet,” he pointed out reasonably, and she wondered as she left the school grounds if anyone else could see him too. He was floating, and he did seem pretty otherworldly...it could get quite hairy if an average passerby saw him shadowing her to town. Flicking a glance across, she wondered again if it was a male. Perhaps shinigami were androgynous. Possibly asexual. Haruhi had never read about their mating habits but faced with such irrefutable evidence of their existence she had to admit that shinigami came into the world somehow, but whether through intercourse or spontaneous generation, she couldn't be sure. Besides, they were supernatural creatures – perhaps strange and mystical forces came together in order to bring them to life. Or the solidified spirits of the deceased could ---

She paused in her thought process, suddenly disturbed as to how much detail she was going into even considering this. Tamaki was obviously rubbing off on her, and that was not a good thing.

The shinigami was still watching her. “Well, I don't want to appear rude,” she told him, aware she probably sounded very rude indeed, “but I don't really care.”

He (surely it was a he) spun in a slow somersault and regarded her from upside-down. “You have no curiosity at all?”

She shook her head. “Not really.”

He flipped upright. “You're not shocked or scared or surprised?”

Haruhi thought back to the events of that afternoon's Host Club. “Believe me, I've seen things that put this meeting to shame.” Hitching up her bag, she gave the shinigami a wave. “And if you'll excuse me, I really have to be off. I'm glad you found your book.” Bowing awkwardly, she set off towards town at a brisk walk. If she hurried, she might even get some nice tuna. Not the fatty kind, but they did get some good cuts in every once in a while.

And so it was, thoroughly absorbed in culinary dreams, that Haruhi didn't notice the shinigami following her, a thoughtful expression on his nightmarish visage.

- - -

“Gochisosama.” Haruhi sighed and set her chopsticks down before standing and collecting the plates. She hadn't managed to snag any tuna but she had caught a bargain on the last piece of shark fin and it had made quite a tasty soup, if she did say so herself.

“Oh, my darling, just look at you!” Ranka's eyes were sparkling and Haruhi had the strong suspicion he'd been drinking at work. “Always working so hard to look after this family! You truly will make a fine wife for a suitable man that's not that lazy good-for-nothing Suou boy one day!”

She slammed the kitchen door shut and put the plug in the sink, turning on the hot tap before reaching for the detergent.

“Your father looks like a woman,” observed the shinigami, floating over the counter and peering through the wall. Haruhi froze and the detergent bottle slipped from her suddenly nerveless hand.

“Haruhi!!!” Her father shoved the door aside and flew into the room, scooping up her paralysed body and pressing her against his chest. “I heard something hit the ground and I feared it was you and then I--” he sailed out of the kitchen with a well-placed hit and Haruhi closed the door again, turning to face the intruder with a thunderous expression.

“What,” she started, the calm tone of her voice masking the true level of her irritation, “are you doing in my house?”

The shinigami floated over to the wall cupboard, sticking his head through the solid panelling and investigating the contents. “You're pretty interesting,” he said after a moment, his voice muffled. “And anyway, you picked up my Death Note. I'm obliged to follow you around now.”

Haruhi closed her eyes on the off-chance that if she couldn't see him/it, he/it would just disappear.

“So,” the shinigami continued, pulling his head out and simultaneously crushing Haruhi's slim thread of hope, “when are you gonna look at it?”

Setting her mouth into a thin line, Haruhi rolled up her sleeves and moved back to the sink, switching off the tap and putting the plates in to soak. The shinigami watched her curiously, floating over beside her and peering at the suds.

“What?” she asked him wearily, soaping the dishes with restless vigour. “Why are you still here? I've already told you that I have no interest in whatever it is you do.”

The shinigami nodded. “Yeah. That's what makes it so fun.” He bared his pointed teeth in a grin before glancing over his shoulder. “Say, do you have any apples?”

Rinsing out a glass, Haruhi came to a decision. It was so obvious that she was surprised (and disappointed in herself) that she hadn't thought of it before.

She'd ignore him.

Yes, it was as simple as that. Her father hadn't squealed in fright before entering (just in pain as he'd exited) so she was fairly sure that she was the only one who could see the thing.

Besides, she had plenty of experience in ignoring unsavoury characters. This would be a piece of cake.

- - -

Hikaru's face dropped into her field of vision and Haruhi stared straight ahead, wondering when he'd had the time to restyle his hair over to the opposite side.

“Eh, Haruhi?” He gave her a worried look. “Are you okay?”

Kaoru flipped his head down also, his face mirroring his twin's concern. “You've been kind of out of it for three days now. Has milord finally managed to send you over the edge?”

The faint scratching sound of a pen against paper came from behind her; Kyouya had joined their corner of the Third Music Room. “I've witnessed nothing out of the ordinary,” he informed them. “If anything, Tamaki is just as distressed as the rest of you.” The scratching paused and Haruhi imagined he was pushing his glasses up. “Although, being somewhat emotionally retarded, he is having some difficulty getting his feelings across.”

“HARUHI!!!” From the corner of her eye she caught Tamaki's form as he sprinted across the room, planting a sure hand on the back of the chaise lounge she was sitting on and vaulting over the top in shimmering slow motion. The very air seemed dance around him and rose petals exploded from nowhere, drenching them in flower-rain as Tamaki settled himself at her side. “Haruhi, I simply cannot stand by idly and watch you descend into yourself! Your quiet, introspective nature – cute and perfect as it is, so wonderfully unique to you – has undergone a dramatic transformation and I've come to offer myself to you to do with as you wish! Let my body warm your cold situation, let my heart guide you from --”

The twins shared a look and nodded once before grabbing an arm each and marching off towards Tamaki's abandoned customers, dragging their protesting king between.

Haruhi only half-noticed – her attention was fixed, and had been for the last three days, on something much, much worse.

“Oi, Haruhi.” Ryuk pointed at the laden table in front of Honey's chair. “Can this stunted human really eat all those cakes?” He dropped to the ground and sniffed at the topmost dessert. “Blegh, Too sweet. I'd get a cavity for sure.” He flew into the air again, narrowly missing Mori's head. “That was a joke, you see. Shinigami teeth don't rot.”

Something inside Haruhi's head gave a feeble sort of lurch and she wondered distantly if her brain had finally broken from the stress. “All right,” she said tiredly, standing and letting her shoulders slump in defeat. “Tell me about the book.”

She trudged out of the room with Ryuk's cackling ringing in her ears, not looking forward to the explanation she'd have to come up with to explain her sudden lapse in sanity.

- - -

“And finally,” Haruhi read, tongue tripping awkwardly over the unfamiliar English, “after writing the cause of death, the details of the death should be written in the next six minutes and forty seconds.” She let the book drop onto her bedspread and gave Ryuk an incredulous look. “Are you for real?”

He lay on his back in midair, kicking idly. “Yeah, of course. What would be the fun in lying to you?”

She considered. “Well, to incite a reaction from something so far-fetched as to be completely implausible?”

He sat up. “Oh, yeah.” Inserting a pointed fingernail into his ear, he rotated it a few times. “Well, what do you think?”

Haruhi blinked at him. “Are you serious? You actually expect me to use this thing?”

Ryuk laughed. “Ah, well, that's the idea.”

“Absolutely not.” Getting off the bed, she padded across the room. “I'll accept your existence, and admit that you and the book are real, but I'm not going to write down any names because based on any set of morals or ethics, I would be committing murder.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And that goes against everything I believe.” Opening the door, she made her way into the kitchen, pausing at the refrigerator to check what ingredients she had.

Ryuk watched her as she started to prepare dinner, slicing a carrot and a daikon radish with quick, precise strokes. “So there's really no one you'd consider writing down?” he asked, tugging at an earring in some confusion. “No mass-murderers or rapists or other criminals you want to send to their deaths?”

She shook her head and stopped working, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes and giving him a small smile. “I want to be a lawyer one day,” she told him, ducking down to a low cabinet and pulling out a cooking pot, “and when I do, I'll be working towards justice in my own way. The Death Note,” she waved a hand at the notebook, tucked into his waistband because she refused to carry it herself, “is probably a terrible weapon in the hands of the wrong person, and while I'd never be tempted, I think you'd be wasting your time in this world, hanging around me.”

She checked in the pantry for stock and while Ryuk pondered her words, eventually giving a rueful grin. “I guess it can't be helped,” he said. “I think I admire your stand on this, but you're right, it wouldn't be a fun way to spend my time.” He flapped his wings, drawing himself up to his full height. “Ah, well, I'll erase your memories of me and go look for someone else...I mean, go back to the shinigami's world.”

Haruhi frowned at the slip but then Ryuk flew closer and she looked up unflinchingly. “It was nice meeting you,” she told him honestly. “Even if you did stalk me and make my life miserable for a few days, it was interesting seeing a shinigami.” Her eyes dropped down and she took a deep breath. “Um, what happens to people when they die?”

He tilted his head as if in thought. “You know, I'm not one hundred percent on that. Just pick an afterlife.” He shrugged. “Better than nothing, right?”

Haruhi swallowed and nodded, closing her eyes as his hand reached towards her. “Goodbye, interesting human,” she heard him say, before a strange tingling sensation overwhelmed her and she sank to the floor in a dead faint.

- - -

Ryuk flew around the school the next day, scouting for a good place to drop his Death Note. It was a shame that Haruhi hadn't wanted the responsibility – he'd quite enjoyed her immediate acceptance of his existence and wouldn't have minded being around her for a while longer. The best thing to do, he'd decided, was to try and have one of her friends pick up the notebook, because then he could hang around and observe her. Her reactions had been fun.

The other members of the Host Club group were probably his best options, since they spent a good portion of each day together. He'd observed them all and thought almost any of them could be good to work with, only ruling out the blond-haired leader as far too innocent for what needed to be done. But the rest all had potential, so he waited for the customers to leave before dropping his notebook on a coffee table and waiting for the entertainment to begin.

“Well, I'm off.” Haruhi picked up her book bag and waved, shutting the door in the blond boy's face as he tried to envelop her in a goodbye hug. He moped for a moment before following her anyway, and a few minutes later the stunted child and the giant left together as well. The identical humans left a few minutes after that, and then Ryuk was alone in the room, with only--

“'Death Note'?” The boy with glasses reached over and picked it up, turning it over in his hands before catching a glimpse of Ryuk and freezing, looking up.

The shinigami found himself grinning. “Hello. I'm Ryuk. You can see me?”

The boy – Kyouya? - pushed his glasses up. “Naturally.” His expression was unreadable and Ryuk's grin widened. “Is this yours?”

“Well, that depends.” Ryuk floated closer. “What would you say if I could grant you the power to kill?”

Lenses flashed and the boy let out a low chuckle. “I'm afraid you'll have to do better than that. Offer me something I don't already have, or please stop wasting my time.”

Ryuk's grin threatened to split his face. “Oh, you humans are fun!” He gestured at the notebook. “Believe me, with this shinigami tool you'll have much more power than whatever you have now.” He watched as the boy flipped open the book, skimming the rules quickly. “So, what do you say?”

The boy snapped the Death Note shut, the corner of his mouth rising ever-so-slightly. “I think we should talk, Shinigami.” He picked up a satchel and made for the door. “What did you say your name was?”

Ryuk followed him out, licking his lips. He was glad he'd decided to play like this. Humans really were so very entertaining.



FIN


Oh, the randomness. But hey, at least I got to use my crazy Light icon! *labus*