|Ouran/Fruits Basket-"Ouran Academy Guest Lecturers Series- Japanese Literature (Sohma Shigure)"
||[Jul. 28th, 2006|02:59 pm]
|[||Tags|||||fruits basket, haruhi, hikaru, hikaruxkaoru, honey, kaoru, kyou, kyouya, mori, morixhoney, ouran, renge, shigure, tamaki, twins, yuki||]|
Title: Ouran Academy Guest Lecturers Series- Japanese Literature (Sohma Shigure)
Universe: Ouran High School Host Club/Fruits Basket
Character/Pairing/s: Shigure, Kyouya, Tamaki, Haruhi, Kyou, Yuki, Renge, Mori, Honey, Hikaru, Kaoru (with splashes of MorixHoney and HikaruxKaoru)
Warnings/Spoilers: None that I can imagine.
Word Count: 2,252
Time: 32 mins (no edits)
Summary: (Ouran/Fruits Basket crossover) A drabble cycle full of crack- the acclaimed writer Sohma Shigure-sensei is given the opportunity to participate in a short guest lecture series at Ouran Academy.
Dedication: Mostly this was just a quickie cycle to entertain myself after I got some weird ideas, but I’ll dedicate to Christine for forcing me off my lazy ass to go to the market today. I HAVE SOME FOOD OMG.
A/N: Ahah sorry sparda219! #7 kind of has your request in it! XD It was seriously the best I could do. Also, this is mostly just stupidity for my own amusement, so don’t pay it any serious mind, kay? I’m just um… using my summer vacation as an excuse to be an idiot. More so than usual. XD
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish constantly.
Distribution: Just lemme know.
Shigure really thought it was a wonderful school—the students were refined, had prepared themselves for the lecture (more than he had) on his work ahead of time, and most importantly, the ladies all swooned rather gracefully when he flirted with them.
“Sohma-sama,” they said to him afterwards, “we’re going to the Host Club for the activities period now, would you like to join us?”
“Oh yes, it’s a very famous club, you should take a look! We think it would suit you just fine, and we’d love to have more conversation with you on your work!”
In the end, a gentleman like himself couldn’t deny the requests of such lovely girls, and so he readily agreed, though the thought of seeing some tragically beautiful young men entertaining cute girls really just made him think of home.
And when he opened the door and was hit by a delicate barrage of rose petals, it simply confirmed his initial instincts-- he truly felt as if he’d simply walked through the front doors of his house.
“I love your love stories!” Tamaki declared, and was glowing from head to toe with almost tangible excitement when the Sohma Shigure-sensei was suddenly led through the doors of his humble little club.
“I love this room!” Shigure replied in like, and sparkled from eyes to ankles when the heir to the Suou fortune greeted him so warmly.
“I love cake!” Honey-senpai announced, just because he felt as if he should say something so cake wouldn’t feel lonely or forgotten.
“Truly a respite for the beautiful,” Shigure continued without missing a beat, and flipped his hair backwards gloriously.
“I’m so happy you share my vision!” Tamaki confirmed passionately, and wiped a single, flawless tear from the corner of one eye in joy.
Kyouya watched them running towards each other in two-shot slow motion and wondered—given his research and calculations as to the sheer size of the Sohma family—if Sohma-sensei and Tamaki could be related in any way.
A ten lecture series might have seemed like a lot when he’d first agreed to the gig, but Shigure was beginning to think that tenured work at this academy wouldn’t be so bad after all.
He began work first and foremost, on the possibility of a short series of romance stories based on the exploits of astounding young men from high society and their devotion to the beautiful high society ladies that ran in their circles.
Kyouya opposed it on principle.
Shigure smiled and raised a single finger in the air. “Ten percent of all revenues through fourth edition printings and international net profits earned in the United States and Europe.”
Kyouya thought that beautiful Japanese literature needed to be more easily accessible in the Western world.
He supported the project with all his heart.
The day Shigure brought (dragged) his “adorable little cousins” along for a visit— “ne, ne, Yu-chan, Kyou-chan, you’d look cute in these uniforms, ne? You should enroll here!”—the host club guests quadrupled.
Tamaki wasn’t quite sure why.
Yuki wasn’t quite sure why either, though he was painfully polite about it.
Kyou jumped fifteen feet into the air and hung by a chandelier when Renge’s high power motor suddenly burst through the floor right under his feet. She laughed and declared that their understanding of the situation was weak! So weak!
“Endearing, whimsical older-brother figure!” she said, and pointed to Shigure. He beamed and waved at her.
“A real lonely prince!” she continued, and pointed to Yuki, who blinked back at her.
“An anti-social hermit who has anger management issues and needs to be taught the values of love and human contact!” she finished dramatically, and pointed to the shaking chandelier with all the flourish necessary for any grand finale.
Predictably (really, gentle females could be so single-minded sometimes) Kyou was the hit of the day.
He didn’t deign to come down from the chandelier once. Not even for cake.
Shigure didn’t say anything about Haruhi at first because, while he thought he smelled “girl” on her, sometimes Ayame smelled like girl (and dressed like girl) too, and really, that was just a personal choice. But when he smelled blood on her and girl on her about a week later he blinked as the proverbial light bulb went off in his head.
He very politely asked her behind the scenes, why she would choose to dress as a boy.
This sent Tamaki into a flurry of mad hand gestures and barely comprehensible speech—the author could tell the blond was really rather passionate on the subject. “You see? You see? You can’t hide that delicate, beautiful, feminine glow, Haruhi! Not from trained eyes!”
“I think…” Haruhi started, and ignored Tamaki completely as she moved to answer the question, “it suits me.” She smiled.
He smiled back. “Well, that’s nice then.”
If Haruhi-chan liked wearing blazers in the same way that Momiji looked better in dresses, what else could be done but sit back and enjoy the view, right?
It was brought to the attention to the staff and students during one of his lectures, that Sohma-sensei occasionally dabbled in a less-than literary type of literature.
“Smut!” one bookish looking little librarian of a girl accused him, and fired a literal volley of stinging questions that any hard-hitting journalist would have been proud of.
Shigure smiled at her and touched her cheek and looked deep into her eyes. “Everyone needs to be reminded of their human nature every now and again, ne? The touch of another person… the need to feel so that we can remember in the end, how wonderful it is to connect fully with someone else. This is the only noble, pure thing we can hope to accomplish in a world downtrodden by darker, more selfish things don’t you think? Sometimes…” here he paused for dramatic effect, “sometimes I think that this thing you called smut is the purest form of literature of all…”
She turned bright pink and sighed into his hand, and when the ladies in the lecture hall all almost passed out from holding their collective breaths, Kyouya made a note in his portfolio to see if Sohma-sensei was available for some upcoming Public Relations campaigns he was planning for the launch of a new Ootori group experiment.
At times Mori and Honey-kun reminded him of Haru and Momiji, and just because he liked to try out things like that (the universe was rife with coincidences and parallels, he’d found), Shigure wondered what it would take to bring out Black Mori.
He started simple—tried to inadvertently step on Mori-kun’s toe—but the kendoist feinted to the side with all the unconscious grace of a dancer and murmured “excuse me” when he did.
Then he made offhanded comments about how he’d love to take Honey-kun home with him one of these days, but Kyouya-kun parried the attempt by showing off the research he’d done prior to Shigure’s arrival at Ouran—“I suspect if he went home with you he would make great friends with your little cousin… Momiji-kun I believe it was, ne, Sohma-sensei?”—and then Honey had gotten very excited about that part, such that the innuendo was forgotten.
The final strike he made on the matter was suggesting an exclusive read-aloud session of a new story Shigure was writing for the Host Club guests only, and when he invited Honey-kun to sit in his lap while he read it, the small host happily agreed.
While he was nestling Honey comfortably on his knee, Shigure thought that he might have—just might have—felt Mori-kun’s eyes pierce right through him for a second.
It made him smile just a little bit, and really, before that moment he never would have guessed himself to be such an adrenaline junkie.
Maybe tomorrow he’d see what kind of threats to his life he’d face if he took Haruhi-chan out to dinner.
At first they hadn’t liked him. Well, they still didn’t like him, but they saw him as potentially someone they could look up to, if only for the fact that yesterday, he’d actually managed to make Mori-senpai twitch (just a single tic) in his left eye, and because of that they couldn’t tell if they admired his audacity or couldn’t quite believe that such an idiot existed in the world.
He was a fascinating contradiction maybe. And he wrote porn. Some of it vaguely incestuous.
They wanted to know if he was more than just big words—an author who could back his writing up.
“Ne, Sohma-sensei,” they said one day before club activities opened, and held up one of his more controversial adult novels. “Do you really support a taboo like this?”
He sparkled. “I support love in all forms.”
The act turned on then, and Hikaru turned to Kaoru and cupped his brother’s face between both hands, gazing longingly at the face that so mirrored his own. “See, Kaoru? I told you that we weren’t the only ones in the world. There are people who understand our love.”
Kaoru’s eyes were wet with unshed tears. “Hikaru… it would be okay if the world was completely against us, as long as I had you by my side always.”
They leaned towards each other then, and touched foreheads.
“Maa, you’ve mastered that rather well, ne?” he offered, and sipped his instant coffee.
They blinked and turned to the side to look at him in tandem. “What do you mean?”
His eyes laughed. “Well… it may just be these old bones, but the world really is a much larger place,” he suggested. “You could take that show on the road. Spread the love!”
They blinked again, and it was eerily in synch.
Shigure’s smile turned marginally—just marginally—wicked as he read their confusion. “Na… for instance… do the two of you happen to have any cousins?”
Shigure blinked at Kyouya. “Is he referring to me?”
Kyouya adjusted his glasses. “By rank of age, I would assume so.”
Shigure didn’t know whether to be offended or amused, so he chose the option he always did—unhelpful. “Yes, Tama-chan?”
Tamaki looked to be having quite the fit. “You took Haruhi to dinner last night?!”
Shigure’s smile was an ambiguous mixture of devilry and sweetness. “We went to a charming little yaki-niku restaurant that she likes. It was quite near her house.”
“Fiend!” Tamaki shouted, and looked horrified. “Of all places…you took her to a commoner restaurant!”
Shigure cocked his head to the side. “Maa, commoner? Aristocracy?” he waved at Tamaki. “There’s no such thing in this day and age, is there?”
Tamaki crossed his arms. “Very forward minded of you, Shigure-jisan, but Haruhi only deserves the best, you know! You can’t just take her to the places she chooses because she doesn’t know that here are better ones out there! We have to broaden her horizons! My precious daughter isn’t just any normal person! She’s special!” he declared passionately, and flashed a very warm thumbs up at Haruhi, because there was no way she could take umbrage to his praise this time—he’d worded it very carefully after all.
Haruhi sighed. “Thank you for thinking I’m better than all of my friends and family, but I really don’t think I want to be special like senpai is special,” she responded, flatly.
Shigure watched the blond freeze and crumble into little bits of dust, still holding that thumbs up.
“Ne, Haruhi-chan,” he started brightly after a minute of watching Tama-chan fall apart, dodging the crumbs of Tono that threatened to dust into his coffee as he did, “shall we go eat Korean barbeque tonight?”
She looked thoughtful and sidestepped the Tamaki bits rather gracefully herself. “I know a good one in my neighborhood.”
Shigure clapped his hands together. “Excellent. I’ll call my…driver.” His eyes glimmered, and he looked sideways at Tamaki. “It’s a date!”
The rest of Tamaki folded like a house of cards.
His last day at Ouran was wrought with copious tears and swooning, the various fangirls he’d collected in his time at the academy asking him to please stay forever. And while he would love to, he felt there was something of a greater sacrifice at stake— leaving would only ensure that fond memories of him linger here at Ouran after him, as well as create a certain aura of mystery and legend about his time here (though in reality all he did with it was flirt and eat cake). But the facts were unimportant-- as a writer, he was well versed in the ways of making the mundane sparkle with a certain kind of mythic allure.
Plus he rather liked that idea of being Ouran’s legendary, best-guest-lecturer-ever.
Though at the same time, he did make sure to leave traces of himself behind because he just hated to be forgotten completely. There were love stories for Tamaki (it would be quite amusing if he actually used them for reference, after all), contact information for his publishers with Kyouya, candies for Honey, a general feeling of wariness for Mori, and a bit of a tricky challenge for the twins.
For Haruhi, he left— Ayame’s business card.
In case she ever did want that just-for-her custom dress every pretty girl should have, and/or someone to remind her that amongst the general category of the most trying people in the world, Tamaki-kun really wasn’t all that bad.