Author's Note: Hi everyone! Here is chapter 4 of 'Secret of the New Host!' I really do apologise for the late update! This is leading up to the parts where things become a little more suspicious and conflicting…

Thanks for the reviews everyone! You all get limited edition virtual Ouran Host Club members' cookies! In the shape of the face(s) of your favourite host(s)! (*gives cookies* use your imagination, you must!) I am very thankful for your thoughts and feedback on this story! (HOLY CARP! 102 FOLLOWERS!? WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN!? *pinches own arm* AM I REALLY SURE I'M NOT DREAMING!?) I also thank all the favouriters and followers! I have virtual cookies and three words for you guys too: YOU. ARE. AWESOME!

Seriously, I still can't get over the fact that a story currently only 3 (now 4) chapters long has hit follows in the three digits.

Now, this is the start of what you've been waiting for… Where 'Secret of the New Host!' is leading up to 'SECRET of the New Host'! Oh, but of course this chapter has a little bit of light-heartedness and humour as well (Start by looking at the chapter name) :)

See, this chapter still has rising suspicion, but it doesn't completely delve into the whole secrets and revelation thing until a little bit later (in the action-towards-secrecy department, this is where things just start to kick off, but the extra force from the kick has still to come. And if you have no sliver of what I mean…then nevermind)…

Oh, and also to that guest who reviewed that they were wanting some action, that's pretty funny because I was actually planning on putting some action in this chapter! Trust me; I know what it's like to read a really good story that you're trying to like but it's all boring and normal and the lack of action drives you almost insane. It happens to me all the time. So obviously, I don't want to drive you action-lovers insane with the lack of fighting and adrenaline.

After all, Kid, Liz and Patty came undercover to Ouran to slay kishin eggs hiding around, so that's what they have to do, right?

Chapter 4: Kid's Club Choice! Which one – the Dark or the Idiotic?

Kyoya's POV

My eyes once again shifted over the title of the outdated news article.

"Car Stolen from New York Businessman, the Brooklyn Devils strike again!"

I read the whole article over. Once; twice; and I still remained in at least a little disbelief.

'Two days ago, the feared criminal street-dwelling Thompson sisters, the Brooklyn Devils, jumped and mugged a businessman two streets down from his home in New York, then taking the stolen goods and stealing the man's car. They have committed many various crimes, and they slip away from the grasp of the Law every time. The Police Force in Brooklyn is considering getting help from a higher authority in aiding in the sisters' capture.'

I took a good, long stare at the photo of Elizabeth Thompson fighting off police officers with a gun, and another photo of her and her sister making a getaway in a stolen car, Patty sticking out her tongue at the police in dark mischief.

My eyes narrowed.

The Brooklyn Devils at Ouran Academy…

'There are criminals at Ouran Academy!' I thought. 'We must be rid of them. Perhaps Kid does not know who they are, or there is the possibility he could be in league with the sisters. Well, that does leave only one mystery still unsolved – Death the Kid's mysterious origin. I shall keep observing the sisters, and when I find them up to any trouble, I shall bring in my family's private police force and have them arrested. A good question is how they got into Ouran Academy anyway… if they grew up on the streets then they wouldn't have any education and thus they wouldn't be smart enough to gain honour's privileges… unless they took the privileges off of other honour students and took their places. Keeping this quiet from the rest of the club would seem appropriate. They will only act as an amplifier and shout my message out to the whole school. Just sit back, Kyoya, and watch the sisters quietly.'

But what sort of higher authority was the article talking about?

Some Law Enforcer with more authority than the New York Police Force, obviously.

The USA's National Police?

Or perhaps there's the very low chance that they went as far as call the US Army or well-known International Organizations like Shibusen or law forces from the UN?

Hmmm…

That was extremely unlikely. They must have called specialist combat officers or people from America's national police.

Although, even if the fact that they called their army or an international organisation is very unlikely…

That doesn't mean it's impossible.

Just, very, very unlikely…

I would need to look into this further.

(Same time: Sunday, 7th August, 11:30pm) Normal POV

BANG!

Boot-clad feet pounded across the rooftops of Ouran Academy in a getaway run, in a failed attempt to be rid of the pursuer, but that turned out fruitless as the weapons used by the attacker were ranged, rather than melee. A skinny man clad in striped prison clothes jumped frantically from one sloped roof to another, his unruly, long, crimson hair whipping against the pale skin stretched across his gaunt figure. He jumped to the side as a pink shot of light grazed the side of the white eye-patch obscuring his right eye from vision.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The strange, pink projectiles did not do well to illuminate the figure of the marksman responsible for firing them. All the prison escapee could see was a pair of guns glinting silver in the moonlight, resting in a pair of expert hands as pale as his own, and a pair of illuminated eyes of deep gold, staring him down in calculation and keeping fixed on him to guide the aim of the pistols. Just who was this attacker? Some man or woman from the damned police, obviously. Whoever they were, they were an excellent shooter. The criminal pulled out a long, large, silver pistol of his own, brandishing the well-crafted firearm in his right hand, his index finger jumping straight to the trigger. His attempting captor was an expert in firearms, but so was he. Even with only one working eye, bringing great difficulty to seeing with proper depth perception, he had adapted and could shoot with good aim. If only his attacker wouldn't be so hidden by the shadows, he could fire easily.

Well then, he'd just have to drive his opponent out of the shadows if they wouldn't come out themselves.

The criminal fired his large gun, sending a bullet speeding towards his attacker, but all that came was the sound of the bullet crashing into the wall.

But how!? How had his enemy avoided the shot!?

He had aimed for the gold eyes as they flickered just into view, but as soon as he shot, the golden eyes disappeared, and the shadows were empty of movement once again.

How!?

Suddenly, shadows swirled behind him, and the crimson-haired shooter directed a punch where he noticed the flicker of darkness in his peripheral vision. His arm was caught in a lock with the enemy's arm, and his opponent launched a kick at him, which he dodged. They split apart from each other, and that's when the escaped murderer noticed the full body of his attacker, exposed in the light of the moon. His eyes nearly widened.

The skilled marksman he was fighting was not a man, nor a woman, but a boy. A boy of about fifteen years old at most! The teen was clad in a black cloak which poked out on edges in spikes, and resting on his head was a white mask in the shape of a cartoonish skull. Black bangs covered with three stripes of white fell over the boy's pale forehead, nearly covering the eyes of molten gold the criminal had seen glinting from the shadows.

The murderer hissed, pointing his gun at the boy, but the latter aimed his pistols sans any fear crossing his face.

The two engaged in close combat.

Swinging his gun at the boy, the murderer took a spinning kick to his opponent's solar plexus, but the boy did a backflip in avoidance of the attack and shot several rounds the criminal's way. In several, echoing bangs, a few bullets sped towards the boy, but in a twist of shadows surrounding him, the teen disappeared. The boy reappeared in the same shadows above the murderer a split second later, shooting at the villain down below and scorching the surprised man.

He landed opposite the injured crimson-haired man, whose realising gaze stared down the boy from head to toe.

"You're not human…"

The boy's reply was swift and sharp, like a knife slicing through softened butter.

"And neither are you."

The aforementioned speaker disappeared again and reappeared behind, delivering a punch. The murderer got into a stance as the boy repeated this, constantly appearing around him and delivering blows – above, behind, to the side. It was a pattern.

The criminal braced himself in a defensive stance, ready to jump around to face the air behind him as the boy disappeared from above him, as he predicted with the pattern. However, what he did not expect was for his opponent to reappear directly in front of him, and feel the cold pistols digging into his solar plexus.

"Escaped serial murderer, Crimson Rasa," the boy began, supernatural golden eyes staring down the criminal's dirty red, "you have strayed off the path of humanity and become a kishin egg –

– I shall claim your soul."

BANG!

It was the last sound of the fight that echoed through the otherwise still and dead night. It was the decider of the battle. All that was left of the kishin egg Crimson Rasa was a tainted soul – a round, soft sphere just slightly bigger than a cricket ball and as red as his name, floating silently above the tiles of the roof. Taking out the slot in one of the guns that would be a weapon pack on a normal pistol, Kid grasped the kishin egg soul and held it to the top of the rectangular-prism-shaped part. It sucked in the soul into it before being reinserted into the pistol it came from. The two weapons were illuminated in a pink tint, and Liz and Patty transformed into their human forms, stretching their arms above their heads.

"Ugh!" the taller of the Thompson sisters grunted, "Man I my back hurts from being in weapon form. How long were we out here anyway; about an hour?"

"We were out here for quite a long time; he was a difficult and agile opponent, but we managed to get him in the end which is important. Now, since we've dealt with the kishin eggs that have showed up tonight, let's get back to the apartment and rest until morning. We got some sleep before we came out tonight but we will still be somewhat tired in the morning." Kid answered, looking down to the ground below.

Patty yawned loudly, wringing her wrists above her head, "Wow I'm sleepy!"

"Liz, Patty, let's go."

"Kay…" the blonde Thompson sister answered with another yawn.

"Great, more time in weapon form." Liz groaned.

"It's alright. It's not too far from here back to the apartment on Beelzebub. You'll be able to last." Their meister quickly brushed off. Kid summoned Beelzebub as the sisters transformed and landed in his hands. He mounted the skateboard and rode across the roof with a clack before taking to the skies and flying the rest of the way to the apartment block.

(Monday 8th August, 6:45am)

Liz yawned in bed as her alarm droned its repetitive beeping, and rolled over to face the side where the bedside table carrying the wake-up-call device was stationed. She reached out and lazily dropped her hand over the off button, pressing it lightly and continuing to add pressure until the button activated and the alarm clock obeyed her command of silence.

She grasped the edges of her white sheets and flipped them off, sprawling them out on the bed, and sat up. Rubbing her eyes groggily, she peered around the room for her uniform, still only half awake and slow to realize that it was hanging in the cupboard as it now usually was instead of carelessly flung across a chair or dresser. When the whereabouts of her Ouran school clothes dawned on her, she trudged heavily up to the wardrobe and slid the brown, wooden door across and grabbed the clothes-hanger holding the yellow dress. She set the uniform down on the bed and fished around in her drawer for a bra and socks. She soon found them and redressed herself into the uniform, leaving her pyjamas to lie idle on the bed; then stood in front of the dresser mirror to see just how much bed-head damage her long, light brown hair had been entangled into.

It was a complete jungle.

It had to have been one of the worst cases of bed-head she'd ever had; split ends stood out everywhere and thin strands intertwined into messy knots which stood up on her head and stuck to the sides. Liz blew long, tangled locks out of her eyes with an exasperated sigh, reaching for her hair brush and detangling spray in which she was holding her precious hopes.

That was, until…

SLAM!

Liz turned to the source of the noise, which turned out to be the door thrust agape. Standing in the open doorway was Kid, already dressed in his blue Ouran blazer and long, dark trousers.

"Look at you; your hair is a mess! I shall do it for you!" he cried, exasperation and demand seeping into his tone.

"No, Kid!" she replied quickly and in stern refusal, "I'm not waiting here forever for you to untangle this mess into symmetry! I can do it myself!"

"NO! Only I can make it symmetrical; and it must be symmetrical on today of all days!"

"SHUT UP!" she cried, pulling back her hand armed with the hairbrush and releasing it, nailing the death god square in the forehead.

'Hold on…' she suddenly thought, 'Today of all days?'

Then, an epiphany of exactly what day it was dawned on her and she groaned.

August the 8th!

As soon as she trudged through the doorway past Kid, who was getting back up from the forehead brush attack, she gazed around the living room and the kitchen right next to it.

Everything was absolutely symmetrical.

August the eighth was the eighth day of the eighth month; and eight was Kid's favourite number because of its numeral's vertical and horizontal lines of symmetry. Liz and Patty listened to him ramble on about eight on more than one occasion. Very much half their class at the DWMA knew that it was his favourite number, and on August the eighth, some people even jokingly wished him "Happy Birthday" in the halls because although it wasn't actually his birthday, it might as well be considering how important and practically sacred the day was to him (which did sometimes annoy him when they said it even as a joke – he informed them that his actual birthday was New Year's Day because it meant he was born on a day in which a new year came forward to mean new deaths and new births, which was appropriate for Gods of Death, so for that reason he was actually born on New Year's. He never told anyone which year's New Year's Day he was actually born on, though. No one knew except Kid and his father, so everyone just assumed by Kid's physical age of around fifteen that he was born fifteen years ago, but he wasn't human, so for all they knew Kid was born in the late 1800's or something and was actually older than everyone around him, including his class teachers. There were a few who entertained the thought, but they dared not ask him).

"IF YOU'RE NOT GOING TO LET ME I'LL JUST HAVE TO DO IT BY FORCE!" came a sudden cry from the Thompson sisters' stripe-haired meister as he jumped Liz from behind with the hairbrush she had thrown at him seconds before in hand.

"GET THE HELL OFF ME!" she shouted back, flailing her arms as she quickly lost balance and swayed. When she managed to regain stability whilst trying to shield herself from Kid's hairbrush prods at her hair, she kicked him in the shins and slapped him across the face.

Kid fell to the floor, and was about to get up when a sudden, unfamiliar shout came from somewhere close by in the building.

"OI! BE QUIET! YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY PEOPLE IN THIS DAMN BUILDING, YOU KNOW!"

Oh…

"Crap; sorry." Liz squeaked, even though she knew that whoever in the apartment complex had shouted was very unlikely to hear her.

Patty giggled from a position at the dining table.

"A wild Death the Kid appeared! Go, big sis! What will big sis do? The wild Death the Kid used frenzy brush! It's somewhat effective! Big sis used low kick! It's super effective! The wild Death the Kid used frenzy brush! It's somewhat effective! Big sis used force palm! It's super effective! The wild Death the Kid fainted! Big sis gained 3225 exp. Points! Big sis grew to level 100! Yay!"

"What?" Liz blinked.

"Well, Kid's a reaper so if he was a Pokémon he'd be dark type!" her sister explained with giggles, "Fighting type moves are super effective on dark types so big sis'd win!"

"Okaaayy…"

After her interpretation of Kid and Liz's struggle in the form of a Pokémon battle, the blonde weapon began to munch on some toast set down on a plate in front of her. Kid marched up to her and looked over each of her shoulders to inspect and make sure that the holes of bitten off bread in the toast slice were positioned symmetrically. Elizabeth almost facepalmed as he began to rant at Patty that she was biting the toast in the wrong places. Couldn't he just leave her sister to eat peacefully? She plodded up to the fridge and noticed a plate of toast sitting symmetrically on the kitchen bench top. Was this for her?

"That's for you." was Kid's reply to her unspoken question, "I've already had breakfast. We need to be at school in an hour and it takes half an hour to walk there, so we can't afford to waste time making breakfast at three different times." She nodded in reply and sat down at the table, beginning to devour her toast. After she and Patty had finished breakfast, they just had to pack their bags (and, in Patty's case, put her shoes on because she was the only one who had yet to do so) and the three soon found themselves treading the footpath to Ouran Academy. Even then, things didn't exactly start and stay peaceful as Kid's hectic demands for symmetry kicked in once more.

"I must walk in the middle so we can be symmetrical! You two are sisters and are in a different uniform to me so you must walk on either side of me! There's only one of me and two of you!"

"What does that matter!?" Liz cried irately.

And Patty… She was just…well…Patty.

After a bothersome half hour of walking, the trio arrived at Ouran Academy and made their way to home room.

Liz and Patty headed to their seats, and Kid headed to his seat next to the twins and Haruhi.

"So I put the ink in the nose rim of Kyoya's glasses and when he put them on he had no idea for twenty whole minutes until he took them off again and –oh hey Kid!"

Hikaru had stopped talking and greeted him when he sat down.

"You two must be at your most symmetrical today!" the young reaper instructed suddenly. Both twins cocked their heads to the side in exaggerated confusion.

"Uh…what?" they spouted in unison.

"Today is August the 8th!" Kid explained, "The eighth day of the eighth month – and eight is a numeral with both vertical and horizontal lines of symmetry! When we have our host session this afternoon, you must be as symmetrical as possible!"

"Yessir!" the Hitachiin brothers chimed, both giving mock salutes.

"Do I even want to ask…?" Haruhi muttered, "I'm guessing not."

Kid spent the whole of homeroom teaching the twins how to stay perfectly still in symmetrical positions, whilst Haruhi sat on deadpanned until Kid made her join in too. Things were going normally, until he walked through the halls to his first class after homeroom time ended.

He kept a paced stride down the hallway, books in arms, as he directed himself to his English classroom. He was behind the other students of his year level headed to the same destination, looking around the halls and taking note of the yellow-golden walls, doors on each side as far as he could see. He was to continue heading in the same direction when a cold shiver ran up his spine. He stopped on the spot. Out of the most peripheral point of his vision, he noticed a shadow slipping past the corner of the grand corridor. He felt a pair of eyes piercing into his back and in his mind he reached for the presence of any soul around that area. Sure enough, he sensed the presence of a human hiding around the corner, stalking him. Judging by the wavelength and the personalities of the souls of the host club members, it was not one of them. Who was stalking him, then? He slightly turned his head, so the shadow was in his more direct vision. It immediately scampered away like a mouse in the gaze of a cat, leaving no physical trace behind. The death god knew to investigate later, but he decided it would do better to feign disinterest and shrug it off for now, because the stalker's soul was still there and he wanted to put them under a false sense of security. He continued on his way to his English classroom for period one.

As the day went by, Kid continued to notice the shadow around most corners, even present near him at lunch. He stayed on alert. Whoever they were, they were interested in him. He occasionally stopped to look behind him, to make sure the stranger wasn't there. When after-school-hours approached, he pondered to himself; was this stalker going to follow him all the way to the Host Club?

Well, he might as well find out.

He picked up his pace, hoping to meet Liz and Patty outside Music Room 3. Suddenly, as the Host Club's room came into sight, he felt a sharp tug on the back of his blazer, and his eyes were covered. He was about to struggle but was quickly pulled through the open door behind him and into a different room. He could hear the door shut behind him.

The hand covering his eyes was removed, and Kid blinked. He was in a dark room, but it did not bother him; unlike humans, he found no trouble seeing in the blackness. The room was rather spacious, and the windows, utterly covered by ebony blinds, leaked no light whatsoever. He turned around and saw a hooded figure cloaked in black trudging over to the centre of the room. The figure lit a candle in the middle of the room, then going around the borders of the grim space and lighting candles on tables. The dark cloak was grabbed from underneath by a pale hand, and swept off the strange figure with an upward swish.

It was a boy from the years above him.

An approximately seventeen-year-old young man with cleanly kept blonde hair and sky blue eyes, dressed in the blue Ouran boy's blazer standing up tall and staring at him with a glint in his eyes that made awkwardness creep up Death the Kid from the bottom up. The aforementioned meister sweatdropped as the older Ouran boy who dragged him into this room started to lowly let out a dark chuckle.

"Hello…" he greeted, his words dripping with dark excitement, one hand behind his back.

"Who are you?" Kid asked seriously in almost monotony, "Why did you drag me in here?"

"I am Umehito Nekozawa." The blonde senior answered, a grin creeping across his face, "And you are Death the Kid, aren't you? Not many people enter Ouran with screen names, let alone ones like that. Death…"

"Back to the point, if you wouldn't mind." Kid prompted impatiently.

"I have been watching you for most of today. You have piqued my interest." Nekozawa spoke slowly, all the while still holding the amused and evil-like tone it started with, "Your appearance screams blackness. The dark hair, nearly sickly pale skin…Ooh and those golden eyes; are they contacts, or real? I'm guessing they're real. I have never met someone with golden eyes before…They reek of darkness and the supernatural…" he paced over and grabbed a hold of Kid's chin, squinting and examining the reaper's inhuman eyes with fascination and complete interest.

"So?" the humanoid god blinked, but worried a little on the inside, 'Does he have suspicions about what I am!? Damn, I need to find out if he knows!'

"I am assuming that your birth was graced by the dark side!" Nekozawa chuckled again, letting go of Kid's chin and standing back, "I am the president of the Black Magic Club, and I am sure you would fit in here perfectly! You would be among those of the darkness like yourself! It would be a wonder to hear your own stories of how Black Magic touched you! You would get a free Beelzenef Curse Doll for joining." he pulled out the hand that was behind his back, revealing that sitting on his hand was a beige, cloth hand puppet of a simplified cat.

"I'm fine. I don't need more than one Beelze-thing."

The president of the Black Magic Club raised an eyebrow. Kid clarified.

"I have a skateboard called Beelzebub."

"Oh! Yes!" Nekozawa exclaimed chuckling darkly, "You would indeed make a wonderful addition to the Black Magic Club!"

"I'm afraid I'm already occupied; you're not the first club president to ask me for joining."

"Ah, that's right; you're in the Host Club, aren't you?" Umehito pulled back, deflated, "I think you'll find much better comrades in this place than that hole of silly stupidity. I'm sure Tamaki and his boys won't mind you leaving."

"No thank you, I think I'd rather be settled for them than a Black Magic Club; goodbye." Kid turned on his heel and left the darkness of the Black Magic clubroom.

"If you happen to change your mind then feel free to come back and speak with me!" came the calling shout of the Black Magic president from the other side of the door.

The reaper ignored him and strolled up to the doors of Music Room 3, pushing them open and entering the domain of the Host Club.

Liz and Patty were already in, and were having a conversation with Hunny and Mori. Mori stayed mostly silent, though, while Hunny did all of the cheerful and childish chatting. The twins were trying to get Haruhi into a black tuxedo, which happened to be the current attire of the club's majority with the exception of Liz and Patty, who were dressed in black catsuits with high collars and black boots; obviously different outfits for males and females.

That reminded Kid; he needed to find out why the Host Club kept trying to pass Haruhi off as a boy. Liz and Patty were fine as girls in the Host Club, so what was wrong with Haruhi showing her true gender? They obviously didn't want him, Liz and Patty to know that Haruhi was a girl; so he wouldn't ask them or they would know he was aware of the cross-dresser's feminine truth, and perhaps start a spark of problem.

"Hello, everyone."

"Ah! Kid is here!" Tamaki exclaimed happily, but was pulled back from getting any closer by Kyoya, who the grim reaper swore he could see a glint in the eyes of, directed at his strangely pale face.

"Tamaki-senpai, I would appreciate it if you put me in charge of the decorative arrangements for this session!" the stripe-haired meister announced in a tone that said it was slightly more of a demand than a request. "Everything must be utterly and perfectly symmetrical!"

Upon Tamaki's confused look at just how extreme Kid's symmetry obsession had him, the twins explained to the Host King.

"August the 8th." Hikaru said.

"Most symmetrical day of the most symmetrical month." Kaoru added.

"Oh, I see!" Suoh realized, "That's fine, but use what's already been organized to keep in with the theme."

"Secret agents!" Hunny cheered.

"Alright, I will." Kid acknowledged, all the while wary of the half-stare Kyoya was giving him. Suddenly, a bag of costume was thrown unceremoniously into his arms.

"You can start by getting dressed into costume!" Tamaki instructed cheerfully.

"We're going to have to take Haruhi to the changing rooms to get changed." Hikaru suddenly piped up, holding a struggling Haruhi.

"He's not getting into costume in front of others so we'll have to do it in private." Kaoru added, both twins dragging Haruhi across the room to the changing rooms, "And there's also been an accident with a collapsed mess of clothes everywhere so only one of the changing rooms is available! Kid'll have to use the bathrooms in the outside corridor or something! It should be fine; they're practically abandoned – no one goes in there much anymore! Just make sure you're not too long!"

"Hey! Let me go, guys!" Haruhi protested loudly to being manhandled by the Hitachiin brothers as she was dragged into the changing room and the curtains were closed.

"Well," Kid sighed, "I'll have to go outside and use the bathrooms like Kaoru said. I won't be very long; they're only at the end of the corridor."

And with that, he headed out of the Music Room, hoping not to run into Nekozawa, and speed-walked down the corridor to the abandoned bathrooms he hid in when he made the first report to his father about the mission back on their first day at Ouran.

Speaking of which, if no one was in there (which was usually the case), then he could make another report to his father.

He stood outside the corridor bathrooms and checked with his soul perception, and upon not sensing any presence in the male or female bathrooms, opened the door to the black-and-white-checked male toilets, letting it shut behind him. He set the bag of costume down under the marble basin bench (there was no way he was going to let himself get caught dead with or in a Host Club costume in front of his dad if he could help it, but unfortunately it could happen…) and dialled the Death Room number on the bathroom mirror. The ringing resounded softly and the surface rippled before the familiar image of the Death Room appeared on the hitherto reflective surface. The spiky, masked, black figure that was Death the Kid's father stood right in the middle. Lord Death bounded further in towards the mirror excitedly as if he were a little child and not a several-thousand-year-old god of death.

"Kiddo! Nice to hear from ya again! How is it going? Anything found? What's going on over there?"

"Hey, hold on, dad. Slow down." Kid tried to calm down his progress-excited parent, luckily to some avail.

"Alright," his father calmed down, "anything to report?"

"Yes. Last night we successfully defeated a second kishin egg in the area – Crimson Rasa."

"Ah, him, hm?" Death hummed, "He's certainly got a bad record or six in our books. Good to know he's been stopped. Anything else? How about things in the actual school part?" his tone rose to playful and teasing, "How about going undercover in that Host Club?"

"It's going relatively fine," the younger reaper replied, ignoring his elder's silly teasing, "Except for being dragged from in front of the Club's room to a dark room by a student named Umehito Nekozawa who wanted me to join the Black Magic Club. Although, there is one other thing I would like to discuss."

"And that would be…?" Lord Death prompted.

"One of the students in the Host Club is giving me strange looks. I am unsure, but I believe he may be starting to develop suspicions or something along the lines." Kid answered.

"Who is he?" his father asked.

"The club's financial organizer and Vice President – Kyoya Ootori."

A small silence developed on both ends of the connection, until Death spoke up with a thought.

"Ootori… I know that name somewhere…"

"You do?" his son raised an eyebrow.

"Aha! That's it!" the grim reaper replied in sudden realization, snapping his thick, white fingers, "The Ootori family runs the Ootori group – a Japanese company of mainly hospital and medical supplies. The Academy had a run-in with the Ootori family's private police force once, so, so long ago – back in the '20s I think, but I know you were over in Germany training those weapons and their meister – Ludwig Stein and those Heiderich brothers, weren't they? – at that time so I didn't tell you about it. There was an incident with a witch and her underlings attacking the Ootori family's head member, and the DWMA members who were chasing the witch had a clash with the Ootori family private police, who were protecting their employers and had a misunderstanding. We had one report of the situation from the meister before the whole area was choked in the witch's amnesiac gas, both sides forgetting a lot about each other's background learnt on the mission and that either side ever met each other. Just to be safe, we isolated all DWMA data from the Ootori group's reach and legal access so things couldn't get ugly again. This boy you said –Kyoya Ootori – goes to Ouran Academy and thus obviously must be a member of the Ootori family. Our name resemblances involving 'death' would be unlikely to be picked up by him; very much the whole of Japan knows the DWMA by its Japanese name – Shibusen – and me by my Japanese name variant – Shinigami. Though, that doesn't mean you shouldn't be careful. Stay weary around him and keep away from him any information that could give you away. That's the best you can do. Other than that, just keep on with the mission."

"Alright; I will." Kid replied, "Bye."

"Bye!~" Lord Death cheerfully waved to his son before the connection ended.

"Well, talking to father was certainly helpful." The meister reflected, before sneaking his costume out from under the basin bench (just in case his father had re-established a one-sided connection on the Death Room side to secretly spy on him for a little bit; Lord Death did that sometimes, much to Kid's annoyance) and rushed into a cubicle to get changed into his costume for the day's club session. The garments, overall, made up a black tuxedo, like what the rest of the male hosts were wearing, with a black plastic bucket of 'gadgets' labelled 'classified'. When he emerged from his cubicle in the plain black secret agent suit costume, just in case there was the chance that his dad was secretly watching him, he moved up close to the basin and pointed accusingly at the mirror he had called his father with.

"You say one word."

Sure enough, the mirror's image changed to show his father in the Death Room.

Knew it. He can't resist the temptation to do it.

There was a small pause from the elder god before he commented in a somewhat-casual, slightly-vowel-dragging tone that bled an undertone of sheer teasing and amusement.

"I like your handbag."

The younger god returned a remark back to his father's jokey use of 'handbag' in reference to the bucket.

"Do you?"

He thrust the bucket in towards the mirror as he stated his own "joke".

"Well watch out I don't slosh you with it."

The connection ended once more, hopefully not to return again, and Kid exited the bathrooms, heading back to Music Room 3.

"You're back!" Tamaki cheered as Kid opened the doors to the clubroom.

"You can keep the 'handbag'." The reaper told him blankly, immediately depositing the bucket labelled "gadgets" into the Host King's hands.

"Guests will be arriving in ten minutes; I suggest you hurry with the setting up." Came Kyoya's verbal push as he started scribbling non-stop in his little, black-covered notebook.

"Right." The stripe-haired boy affirmed, rushing off to the back of the room to adjust everything into symmetry and set up a bit more background.

It didn't go that well at first.

"WHO DID THIS ABOMINATION!?"

"Oh, the paint? –"

"–Yeah; that would've been us…"

Those damned twins…AGAIN.

Subsequent to cleaning up the offending splodge of black paint on the back of the dividing boards, Kid stepped around them to the storage cupboard, right where he had intended to go before he noticed the dark-coloured crime against aesthetics and immediately sought a method of bringing it to ordered justice. He gently pried open the store cupboard door and it swung agape on its creaky hinges. The neatly ordered shelves of props and art lined a variety of colours to brighten the dark storage area, and the young reaper picked out a box of futuristic-looking LED lights off of the very middle shelf. As soon as he shut the cupboard door and paced back out from the divided-off area to the front of the club room, the doors to the front of the music room opened slightly, and a cloaked face peered in.

"AAAHH!" Tamaki screamed holding his hands over his mouth as his eyes widened in horror, "IT'S NEKOZAWA! THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS! HE'S COME TO CURSE UUUS!"

"Senpai, would you please refrain from being so overdramatic?" Haruhi requested bluntly, rolling her eyes on an otherwise deadpan face.

"Kukukukuku…" Nekozawa grinned through the door he opened ajar, clicking his tongue in a continuous, rhythmic mantra, "Kiiiid, the black magic club is waiting for yooouuu!"

"I already said no, thank you." Kid reminded, struggling not to burst out in irritation.

The doors creaked open further as the cloaked president of the Black Magic Club made his way slowly into the room, his heavy footsteps echoing off the walls, and his hooded head hanging low.

It all changed in a flash as he underwent a drastic change in tempo, rushing up and grasping tightly onto his target's pale arm, catching the "younger" (the way he saw it anyway) student by surprise. He dragged Kid to the doors, attempting to leave as abruptly and unceremoniously as he had entered, but the young god was superiorly stronger, and wrenched his limb out of Nekozawa's grip.

"I said, no." Kid hissed assertively, trying to drill his several-repeated message into the Black Magic president's head without having to add the act of engaging in a lengthy diatribe to his list of unwanted necessities.

"Why do you stay with them?" Nekozawa prodded, "They are fools who know nothing of the boundless darkness!"

"Why do you want me out of the Host Club?" he raised an eyebrow, "What do you have against them?"

"Oh, not much;" was the casual reply, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug, "they helped me out once, but they were very pushy – especially their manager; you be glad you haven't met her yet. When she comes back from her extended family holiday you're going to get pushed around, too. I see you as a fellow of the shadows so I invite you into the walls of the Black Magic Club, before this band of fools start to push you around! Come with me!"

"How many times to I have to say 'no' before it drills through your skull?" Kid hissed irately through clenched teeth, trying to hold back charged skull arms that lay brewing in his shadow. It was so minute that no one could notice it from their current distance to him, but if one stood nearer to him and looked very closely with eyesight as sharp as an owl, tiny shapes moving in his shadow could be made vaguely out – tiny, moving, skull-like shapes that were in his black floor projection but not on he himself. Kid had spent a long, tedious time once learning how to control from accidentally releasing them, but on occasions where he hadn't used them in a long time, they tried to release by themselves upon the unleashing of his temper. He had to keep them under control, or his whole cover would be blown.

"What is wrong with black magic!?" Nekozawa shrieked, offended.

"The idea of dark magic is against my morals, and people performing it sounds silly." He answered honestly, "If I'm already in a club, even a Host Club, it's still better than a black magic one in my opinion."

Umehito's jaw dropped incredulously, "But you of all people should understand!"

"Understand what?"

"We need someone for the Black Magic Club! Come on!" he begged, but his tone changed to threatening, "Or Beelzenef shall curse you! Mwahahahaha! Make your choice now about where you would go or stay! Kid's choice, after all! Which club – the Dark or the Idiotic?" he pointed his eyes in the direction of the Host Club to imply it as the latter.

"I'll stay with the 'idiotic' in that case." Kid answered, almost immediately, giving the Host Club an affirming glance, "Now will you leave please!? You're ruining the symmetrical layout of the room!"

"NO!" Nekozawa cried in refusal.

"IIINCOMIIIINNG!" came the chiming, simultaneous shouts of Hikaru and Kaoru, who rushed forward, armed with torches, and shone them at the president of the Black Magic Club. With a shout of terror, the hooded third year scurried out of the room hastily in escape from the light which became a constant pestilence in his life. The doors swung shut behind him with a hurried BANG, and the twins cheered, "The dark sorcerer has been slain!"

"Thank goodness that's over." Haruhi sighed, "He was pretty persistent by the looks of it. Why was he going for Kid specifically, though? It was like a special sort of desperateness."

"I thought it was because he was short in numbers in the club." Kid put in, raising an eyebrow in confusion, "So there was something special about it?"

"Well his club's numbers dropped drastically so he is more desperate than the other times he's tried to recruit…" she considered, "I guess since you, Liz and Patty are new he wanted to get you in his club before you spent enough time at this school to hear people talking badly of him and black magic or something."

"That's probably it, then." Liz decided, dismissing it as that.

"Yeah." Haruhi agreed.

'Of course that's the reason.' Kyoya thought sarcastically, but then mused thoughtfully, 'There has to be a different reason…I wonder what it is…? There is something strange about "Death the Kid", and it's something big – something Nekozawa found important enough that he wanted to get Kid in his club for…I must investigate this further. Of course, Nekozawa-senpai barely ever trusts or talks to members of this club anymore, so getting information out of him for why he wanted Kid will be difficult…'

MEANWHILE, IN THE BLACK MAGIC CLUBROOM

Nekozawa's POV

I trudged sulkily back into the beloved darkness of my club's walls, one of the other (few, I would never admit, even though it is so) members of the Black Magic Club turning his head from the weekly ritual to look at me as I entered our ominous space.

"You are just in time, President Nekozawa. What is wrong?"

"I tried to get a new Host Club member to convert to us, but he refused." I sighed, "Never mind that; continue with the ritual."

As I joined in the chants of one of my favoured ritual spells, I thought to myself.

'I must still look into Death the Kid…His aura is incredible…teeming with the energies of the world…he is perfect for the Black Magic Club. He is…strangely special…'

LATER, AT THE APARTMENT

Normal POV

Kid, Liz and Patty had just arrived back after the Host Club activities, and they were heading to get changed out of their school uniforms. Kid froze as a tapping resounded on the window of the small living room. He opened it up, looking up at the amber and peach blanket that covered the roof of the world. Suddenly, something flew down from atop the window and down onto the sill. A creature blanketed in ebony plumage, with a pointed beak of grey opening and releasing a guttural caw, spread wings folding back onto the sides of its body. It's eyes locked with Kid's, gold to gold, before Kid noticed a roll of paper tied messily to its leg, dark ribbon slightly caught in grey talons.

The reaper grimaced at the untidy and improper way of tying to a messenger bird, before releasing the crow of the incorrectly tied ribbon and allowing it to use its claws properly. The bird sidled up close to him and nudged its head into his shoulder. Crows were birds often associated with death, especially this special, generally intelligent, golden-eyed species which was only found in certain parts of the world. Being a god of death, Kid had found a way with crows, as they usually gathered near the dead which Kid collected the souls of in konso, as well as the dead soul residue of slain kishin eggs he had defeated. He lifted his hand and stroked the crow gently on the back, before it gave him a friendly squawk and took off the windowsill into flight, becoming a distant dot in the sky of the setting sun.

He opened the roll of paper, and read over its message.

"NEKOZAWA! HOW MANY GOD DAMN TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU—"

"SHUT UP!" hollered a familiar, stranger's voice, "YOU WERE BAD ENOUGH THIS MORNING!"

"Sorry." Kid muttered quietly but grumpily, shutting the window.

Behind him, a changed-into-casual-clothes Patty laughed so hard she fell to the floor rolling on it whilst holding her sides.

There we have it! Chapter 4 of 'Secret of the New Host!' is finally done! I considered ending with Nekozawa's intrigue or Kyoya's musing, but you got that last chapter so I thought I'd end on a light note this time!

Haha, I've always entertained the thought of Kid being older than he looked. I toy with the idea of Kid's age because of it being not explicitly stated in canon and imply uncertainty to it after mentioning it after (my idea for) Kid's birthday, then through Lord Death's recount of the Ootori/DWMA conflict and why he didn't bother telling Kid about it, I totally butcher the uncertainty I set up just before and take a definite side xD

Also, kudos to anyone who gets the origin of the reference of the "handbag" bucket joke with Kid and Lord Death :D

I'll explain it next chapter anyway if nobody gets it. I like to chuck in references in my fanfictions here and there, but I'm considering making them a bit more subtle from now on.

Once again, thank you for the favourites, follows and reviews. They make this my most successful fanfiction ever and I am utterly gobsmacked!

This author's note has nothing really to it, because I don't know what else to write, but I feel like I forgot something…

Something about a crossover plot bunny I thought up involving Nekozawa…

Should I come back to it?

Nah.

PART OF AUTHOR'S NOTE WRITTEN AFTER COMING BACK TO IT TWO HOURS LATER: Actually, I remember the crossover idea now! It was about wondering what would happen if Nekozawa found a Death Note… (I've been watching the Death Note anime lately. I finished reading the manga several months ago so I thought "How about the anime? It couldn't hurt.") Feel free to use that plot bunny if anyone wants to; because I'm certainly not going to be using it.

Oh yes, and also a note for some of you who watch Doctor Who (if you're not Whovian, then you can stop reading here). I recently rewatched 'The Name of the Doctor' from Doctor Who series 7 and I don't like the fact that Clara (who seems to be generally burying herself into Mary Suedom) is responsible for a plot point as important as getting the Doctor to take the type 40 TARDIS, the TARDIS he's always had throughout the series. The way the First Doctor seemed to be easy for Clara to convince means that one: Clara is really good at it (like she seems to be with a LOT of things, "apparently") and two: that the First Doctor was out of character. Trust me, I started with the Modern Reboot of Doctor Who, but I love some of Classic Who's Doctors a lot now, too. I'm a fan of the first three Doctors (Hartnell, Troughton and Pertwee) and when I saw how easily the First Doctor appeared to be convinced by Clara into taking the right TARDIS because the navigation is more "fun", it really bugged me. I am going to post a oneshot about how I believe the TARDIS stealing SHOULD have gone, with what I believe the First Doctor would have done if he was characterized correctly (or, what the BBC would have done with that scene if they had had enough stock footage and correct enough dialogue of Hartnell's Doctor from the 60's). I'm not sure what to call the oneshot, but I'm thinking maybe 'Not so Easy to Convince', because that is exactly what the First Doctor was – not so easy to convince. If you want evidence of the First Doctor being hard to convince, the first episode of 'An Unearthly Child' is enough.

Anyhow, see you for chapter 5!

Pokelolmc…OUT! *Poof*