Title: C(rue)l
Author: Grasshopper (A.K.A. The Undertaker's Muse)
Rated: PG
Series: crossovers100
Warnings: PH33R TEH CRACK! Humor (that fails), stupidity. Hisoka. And word tenses that are all messed up. -:kicks self:-
Fandom: Ouran Koukou Host Club/Yami no Matsuei
Spoilers: Er…a tiny mention of Hisoka's back story, but that's it.
Pairings: None. (And I'm so glad, with this crossover…)
Summary: After all his time spent as a Shinigami, Hisoka has finally found Hell.
Author's Notes: SHOOT ME. SHOOT ME, NOW. Otherwise, give me cookies. ;)
Disclaimer: All things Ouran Koukou Host Club belong to Hatori Bisco. All things Yami no Matsuei belong to Matsushita Yoko-sensei. Grassy only lays claim to the plot.

Hell.

Kurosaki Hisoka was in Hell.

Oh, sure, it was masked as a school, but the Shinigami knew better. Somehow, the fact must have been overlooked in their mission briefing, but Hisoka was positive that this…this place was a (not-so) small piece of Hell on Earth.

On a general basis, undercover missions were annoying enough. Having to be a student was even worse - what did he know of school? He'd lived most of his life behind bars - but Hisoka could manage. However…this…

No. Just, no.

The amount of students was horrifying enough and, even with his shields in place, trying on his telempathic powers. They were all so noisy, verbally and emotionally.

And the sheer amount of pink! It was everywhere! You could barely turn around without getting an eyeful of some varying shade of the color.

Although, it could be worse, the uniforms could be pink, too. Hisoka shuddered.

And then there was that place.

At first, Hisoka hadn't quite known what to make of things, as he'd been doing his damnedest to keep his shields in place as the group of girls latched on to him and wouldn't let go. Stumbling somewhat, he had somehow managed to stay on his feet until they arrived at the door of the third music room.

A pair of hands pushed him inside, continuing to ignore his objections. An odd sparkle drew his attention and, at the scene before him, Hisoka was dumbstruck. It was like stepping into a romanticized version of the past.

…Shinsengumi cosplay? Enma, the one time I'd actually enjoy Tsuzuki dealing out massive property damage via Shikigami…

"Tamaki-sama! We've brought him," simpered one of the yellow-garbed girls.

The blue and white-clad figure that stepped forward - blonde, with an emotional resonance that had Hisoka twitching beneath his composed features - began to gush over the girl, thanking her grandiosely.

The young Shinigami was in such shock, he barely registered what the boy said (and, deep down, was glad not to remember such drivel). Glancing around the music room, Hisoka did the best he could to regain his bearings.

"What's going on?" He demanded finally, catching the eye of the one he felt was in charge of the madness he currently found himself in.

(Kyouya raised an eyebrow as the other student's bright green eyes met his own.)

"Welcome, Kurosaki Hisoka-kun, to the Ouran Host Club." With every word, the blonde (apparently their front man) posed and gesticulated just so for his enraptured audience.

"…eh?"

His first assessment, Hisoka realized suddenly, was completely accurate.

This was Hell.

The End