a/n: this is probably mostly complete crack. but if you're gonna blame someone, blame kira, aka stumblingphrases on tumblr. it was totally her idea. also, this is dedicated to her.
disclaimer: i don't own ouran high school host club or soul eater.
You curl your fingers around Kaoru's and try your best to look menacing. The alleyway is dark enough that you can't see the faces of the people that pass through, but you don't trust any of them. You don't trust anyone.
"Except me, right?" Kaoru squeezes your hand lightly and you realize you'd said the words aloud. You squeeze back, narrow your eyes at the guy who's watching you carefully from the mouth of the alley.
"Yeah," you murmur, running your finger over his palm in an careful and urgent pattern. He raises his eyebrows, eyes you sidelong. "Except you."
A beat. You make the barest of motions with your head towards the man. Kaoru's eyes widen, understanding. His hand tightens just so slightly around yours.
You look like an easy target, the both of you. Threadbare clothes, big, innocent eyes. Young, naive, and very easy to corner and mug in dark alleyways like the one you're in now.
Well. Or so it seems.
The man darts forward suddenly, a knife in his palm, lunging. Your hand doesn't leave Kaoru's until he's phasing, and his fingers turn to metal and all of a sudden he is a pistol in your hands, cold steel that is pulsing in time with his heartbeat. You move in perfect tandem, he jumping into your palm just as you pull the trigger.
The man falls to the ground, groaning, before he even has a chance to completely step forward. He's holding his left knee and making these awful keening noises. "Oh, shut up," you say as Kaoru shifts back, landing lightly on the ground and dusting off his trousers. "I could have done much worse than maim you."
Kaoru steps forward, and the man is suddenly reaching for his fallen knife again. "Hikaru!" Kaoru hasn't even finished speaking when you're phasing. It's an indescribable feeling, shrinking down to fit easily into Kaoru's palm. You can feel the power coiled inside your barrel, more than just simple bullets. In the space of two seconds Kaoru has you gripped firmly in his right hand and is using you to bludger the man quickly and firmly on the head. His eyes roll back and his hand falls to the pavement, lifeless.
You shift back while Kaoru leans foreard to rifle around in the man's coat. He searches for a few moments before he holds up a wallet fat with cash. "Lucky us."
You snort and take the wallet from Kaoru. "Hm," you hum in agreement, opening the worn leather and slipping the money from the billfold, carefully tucking the cash into your own wallet, which you picked off some poor sap who had a bad habit of walking slowly and not paying enough attention to his surroundings. "Real lucky."
You toss the—now empty—wallet back to the man, snickering. Easy.
Kaoru crosses back to you, replaces his hand inside yours. And you both start out of the alley, walking down the street without a care in the world.
There are two kinds of people in this world, you've determined. There's you and Kaoru. And then there's Everybody Else. You and Kaoru are the only ones who matter, of course, and Everybody Else only exists to suit your needs.
"Hey." Kaoru squeezes your hand to get your attention, uses his head to gesture down the street. There's an old man there, glasses thick as your finger and attire screaming Very Rich. You smirk and nudge his shoulder with yours.
You let go of Kaoru's hand briefly to turn the collar of your coat up. Kaoru does the same. His fingers are warm where they're knit between yours, and you feel powerful. You cross the street together, hand in hand, cat grins matching on both of your faces.
Such is the life of the Hitachiin brothers.
That is, until you meet him.
His name is Death the Kid, and he is going to Fix You.
At least, that's what he says.
"Such a shame," he prattles on, leading you down the sidewalk. "You're both perfectly symmetrical. If only you weren't complete criminals."
"Please," Kaoru says, and you feel a bit betrayed by how easygoing his tone is, "we're not complete criminals." He kicks at a crumpled old flyer lying on the concrete, "And why is that a shame, anyways?"
Death the Kid whirls on you both, and if he were anyone else you wouldn't jump because you'd know you could blow his head off in half a second flat. But this is Death the Kid and he is a Shinigami and the Son of Lord Death, and he is the only one in your whole life who has been able to pin you both to the ground, to knock you both into submission before you could even land a mark on him.
So yeah, you start a little bit.
"It is a shame, Kaoru Hitachiin, because I absolutely cannot have thugs as my weapons."
Your initial reaction is to shout, Wait, when did we agree to become your weapons? but before the words come out it occurs to you that he knew Kaoru was Kaoru. "Hold on," you say, holding up a hand, "you can tell us apart?"
He gives you a look as if to say Of Course I Can before he sighs. "Yes, I can." He tucks his hands into the pockets of his neatly pressed black trousers, shifts his weight to one foot. You hadn't noticed it when you both jumped him in that alley earlier, but his aura practically screams power. His clothes look more intimidating than rich from this close, and you feel like a complete moron for even trying to take him on in the first place.
Death the Kid sighs. "You may look exactly the same on the outside," he gives a dreamy little sigh here, and are those actually stars in his eyes, "but I can see your souls, and those are easy enough to tell apart."
You'd never considered that. "Well," you groan, "you're no fun."
Death the Kid (and what a ridiculous name, really, he should shorten it or something) rolls his eyes and turns away, starting back down the path. He doesn't wait to see if you'll follow.
You catch Kaoru's eye from across the sidewalk. His face has a faraway look about it, and you have to resist the urge to grab his hand and run, fast.
Suddenly you're whisked back to another time, to a dank and crowded orphanage, and a girl who didn't know who was who, who couldn't win the game.
Your brother sighs, an almost unintelligible sound, and you can feel your resolve crumbling.
Kaoru trusts Death the Kid.
"You sure?" you murmur softly, eyes drifting back to face forward again, fingers itching to twine with his.
In this one action, he has asked you to let Kaoru and Hikaru against Everyone Else turn into Kaoru and Hikaru and Death the Kid against Everyone Else. The thought knocks the breath from your lungs, makes your head spin.
You can do a lot of things. You can kill a man without blinking, pick pockets and locks and who knows what else; you can phase faster than lightning and your aim is always, always perfect.
But there is one thing that you've never been able to do, and that is say no to your brother.
"Alright then," you say, and step forward to follow the Son of Death.