Dissonance ~ Host Club Fic, R

  • Apr. 18th, 2009 at 11:38 PM
sloth: real bird perched on a no birds allowed sign ((ex)bird)
 Disclaimer: The characters and places mentioned in this story do not belong to me. I intend no copyright infringement.
Warning: scene of violence and death involving guns; overall emotional messed-up-ness.


Fact. Ouran Academy updates security measures every three weeks.

Fact. In Ouran Academy, bodyguards have their own lounge.

Fact. All Ouran Academy students have been abducted at least once.




How it happens is:

“Ne, wait a minute.”

“What, what?”

“Doesn’t that plushie remind you of our lord?”

“Hm? Yeah, you’re right. Huh– ?”




Whispers are following the Hitachiin all along the halls. He flicks his hair out of his eyes and scowls. Not a dark scowl, not a depressed one, not like you’d expect; just his familiar annoyed one. He walks up the stairs to the Third Music Room and opens the door.

It’s strange, he thinks. I’ve never come in here alone before.



Their first kidnapping was when they were two years old. They slept the entire time and woke up at home. It was a smooth and effortless exchange of children for cash; and they each got a bodyguard that very day.

The second time, only one of them was taken. The bodyguards were shot through the head. They tilted as they fell forward; Kaoru tells how he saw holes at the base of their skulls, hair matted down with blood and exploded brains, the white of shattered bone. Hikaru doesn’t say anything. He smirks, and holds onto Kaoru’s hand, and is still.

The kidnappers took only one of the twins because it was easier that way. They called the twin they took ‘Hitachiin’ and ‘Brat’. The twin they didn’t take answered neither to ‘Hikaru’, nor to ‘Kaoru’, and so no one could tell which one he was. The detectives labeled it the ‘Hitachiin Son’ case. Within forty-eight hours ransom had been demanded and exchanged for the return of the missing child.

Somehow, everyone thought the experience would mark one twin as different from the other. But both had the same fearful eyes and white mouths, and both woke breathless from nightmares, and no one ever knew if it had been Hikaru taken, or Kaoru.

The third time one of the Hitachiin twins is kidnapped, they are fifteen. They are at the commoners’ mall, looking through storefronts in idle curiousity. They are together as always. Bodyguards trail them. It happens too fast. The twin left behind says in response to all questions, “I don’t know. I don’t know.” His eyes are blank and his fingers are moving as if reaching for a hand to hold onto.

No ransom demand is called in.




Haruhi Fujioka is sitting with two of the Host Club regulars. They are second years, class A, who typically fawn over the Hitachiin brothers’ displays of incestuous love. Right now they are crying; crocodile tears that, while sincere, are still designed for show.

“We’re scared, Fujioka-kun,” one sniffles. She has her hair in braids.

“Yes,” the other adds. “What if something happens to Hitachiin-kun?”

Haruhi closes her eyes. She is strangely very angry with these two girls who are showing nothing but concern. Selfish concern, she thinks. Concern that they won’t be able to watch Hikaru and Kaoru’s act ever again. “Please excuse me,” she says, stands and bows.

The mood in the Host Club is somber. Everyone in it has been kidnapped before, even Haruhi; but it is unusual for an abduction to last for so long.

Mitsukuni Hanninozuka sits with Kyoya Ohtori and Takashi Morinozuka. All three converse quietly. Tamaki Suoh gently ushers customers from the room. “The Host Club is going on a hiatus, ladies,” he says. He is polite, but not charming. He doesn’t smile. When all the customers have gone, the members look at one another.

“What can we do?” Haruhi asks.

No one replies.




The Hitachiin twin opens the doors to the Third Music Room. Five startled faces turn to him, but he looks only at one.

“Haruhi,” he says. “I thought you’d be here.”



Hikaru and Kaoru share a room. Their beds are pushed together; they share blankets. When they wake up, their legs are tangled and they are holding hands, their heads facing one another.

It’s the first time Haruhi has been in the Hitachiin mansion. She sits on the twins’ bed and links fingers with the boy. “Are you okay? Kaoru?”

The Hitachiin twin looks up. “Kaoru? Is that who I am? I can’t tell. I can’t tell anymore.”

“You are Kaoru,” Haruhi says. Matter-of-fact, voice low, without doubt.

Kaoru whispers, “I don’t want to be,” and leans his head against Haruhi’s shoulder, into her neck.

Haruhi hugs him with her whole body. “Kaoru. Kaoru.” He doesn’t cry. He just shakes.

When they wake up their legs are tangled and they are holding hands.




Both twins remember their second kidnapping. “The floor was cold,” Hikaru says. Kaoru adds, “The man wore a ski mask and smelled like cheeseburgers and onions. Mom was scared.”

They share memories. They share everything; not even they know, now, which one was taken.

“Ne. Hikaru.”

“Am I Hikaru?”

“You can be Kaoru.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s the same. Isn’t it?”

That’s what they say to each other. After.




They’re not the same. They have different fears.

Hikaru is afraid that Kaoru will die and leave him alone.

Kaoru is afraid that Hikaru will die and Kaoru won’t die too.




Kaoru is waiting. He holds Haruhi’s hand and waits. He forgets to eat. He sleeps only sometimes. The one thing he’ll say is, “Haruhi. Haruhi, who am I?”

“Kaoru,” Haruhi names him. “You are Kaoru.”

Kaoru says, “Still? Am I still?”

“Yes,” Haruhi replies. His head is in her lap. She is petting his hair. Her hand is the kindest thing he has ever known; she makes him feel small.

Kaoru never stops touching Haruhi. They are always holding hands. Kaoru’s mom says, “Kaoru, you should let Haru-chan go.”

Kaoru says, “Don’t call me that,” and holds on tighter.

“It’s okay,” Haruhi says. “We’re fine.”




On the fourth day, on the ninetieth hour, Kaoru gasps. “He’s dead.”

Haruhi strokes Kaoru’s hair and closes her eyes. “No. He’s not.”

“You don’t know.”

“Hikaru isn’t dead.”

“I am Hikaru.”

“No. You are Kaoru.”

“You don’t know.”

Haruhi sighs. “I know. You are Kaoru. Hikaru is alive. Now, go to sleep.”




“Hikaru,” Kaoru says.

“I’m Haruhi.”

But all Kaoru sees is his twin.




On the seventh day, Hikaru Hitachiin comes home. He is thinner than before and his eyes are blank. Some might think the experience would mark him as different from his twin; but when they hug, not even their mother can tell one pale starved face from the other.

The only one who can is Haruhi, Haruhi who they are always touching.



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