[Fic] University: The Demon of Med School Mania

[kitsunerei88]

Title: University: The Demon of Med School Mania
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club
Rating: G
Genre: Comedy/General
Pairings or Characters: None in particular
Warnings: Severe randomness. No research done whatsoever. This is not meant to be serious.
Summary: When Haruhi graduated Ouran, she thought she was leaving the insanity behind. Submission for the ouran_contest  community
Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club

Author’s Notes: Sometimes, my university can do some very strange, usually frustrating things. Sometimes at university, you meet very weird, frustrating people. And then I thought “What if Haruhi had to deal with it?” This is a general “after the series” thing. Also, this is part of a series on the topic. I also have a chapter of Rush Week, but it just didn’t turn out that funny, so this one got submitted instead.

 University: The Demon of Med School Mania

            “. . . And that will be all for today. For next Tuesday, I expect a three thousand word essay on the ideal juror, with reference to the table of professions that cannot be jurors.” The professor turned to look at his classroom, his bald head shining under the lights. Law, Haruhi found out, was a fairly small program. The university only accepted sixty applicants per year for law, and barely thirty of them even showed up to class. Her classrooms were always large and empty. “Please defend your opinion on the ideal juror for the persecution versus for the defence. I’ll see you next Tuesday.”

 

            Haruhi sighed, packing her Introduction to Criminal Law textbook into her backpack. Class had ended just on time, at eleven-fifty exactly. She expected no less of the taciturn Professor Nagato, but once, just once she wished that he would end class early. She would have to run to make it to the Scholars Building to meet the rest of the former Ouran High School Host Club for lunch, and even then she would probably be late. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and started trotting, past the University Community Centre, past the School of Literature and the Academy of Music, through the immaculately kept lawns of the University.

 

            The Scholars Building was a newly built extravagance, possible through a large donation from (Haruhi had been very amused to note) the Suoh Group. It held its own cafeteria, ten music rooms, a well furnished general library, and seven study rooms. Best of all, though Haruhi usually felt very guilty admitting it, the Scholars Building was card-locked and only available for use by the Scholars Association, the University’s honour society.

 

            Well, she shook her head, mentally justifying her use of the building as she swiped her student ID. Anytime she tried to study in any of the other libraries and study rooms, a sorority recruiter would inevitably find her. And then she would have to flee before any of the other sorority recruiters found her. She had enough problems fighting them off between classes. I don’t know what they see in me, she thought, frustrated. So I know the Hitachiins, and Kyouya-senpai, and Tamaki-senpai, and Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai. So what? It’s not as if I’m interested! What do sororities do anyway?

 

            “Haruhi!” Hikaru’s voice drew her attention to one corner of the cafeteria. Haruhi smiled and walked over to the large table the others had already sequestered, pulling up a chair and pulling out her bento. As usual, she was the last one there. Kyouya was meticulously checking over some math assignment, with Honey looking over his shoulder. Mori had pulled out one of his history textbooks and was studying it carefully. Tamaki looked up from his sheaf of sheet music upon hearing her approach.

 

            “Haruhi!”  Tamaki flung his arms around her dramatically. She always seemed to make the error of sitting between him and Hikaru. A tall, blonde girl was standing beside him sheepishly, holding another folder. “My dove of peace, my daring princess, sunshine of my morning! How was your week?”

 

            “Get off, Tamaki. Go back to studying your . . .” she sneaked a look at his sheet music. “Bis-ett Habanera?”

 

            “Bizet, Haruhi!” Tamaki recoiled in horror at her atrocious pronunciation of the foreign name. “‘Biz-ay!’”

 

            “Bizet,” Haruhi repeated soothingly. From experience, he would continue on and on until she pronounced it properly. How was she supposed to know these crazy names, anyway? Music wasn’t a particular interest of hers, and in any case, she was horrible musician. “My week was fine.”

 

            “Err, anyway, Tamaki-san,” the blonde girl interrupted, embarrassed. She clutched her own folder, presumably of sheet music, shyly to her chest. “Anyway, will you be my accompanist at my recital in two weeks?”

 

            Tamaki turned, as if remembering that she was still standing there. “Oh, I’m sorry, princess!” He leapt to his feet and swept her an elaborate bow. “Of course I can be your accompanist. When do you want to practice?” He took her hand and tilted his head, looking up at her adoringly.

 

            “Err, I’m,” the girl turned her head away, taking a deep breath and pulling her hand back. “I’m free any day after four. Is tomorrow at four-thirty in the sixth music room good for you?”

 

            “Of course it is, Mizuki-hime! Anything for you!”

 

            “Err, well, then I’ll see you tomorrow at four-thirty.” The girl bowed deeply, blushing a bright crimson. “Thank you, Tamaki-san.”

 

            “Of course, princess. It’s nothing.” Tamaki gave her his characteristic, charming smile, and she fled.

 

            “Who was she?” Kaoru threw out the question, eyebrows raised. There was no real need for the curiosity, Haruhi thought. Girls tended to flock around Tamaki wherever he went. Why would university be any different?

 

            “Mizuki Asahina,” Tamaki replied. “First year soprano. As beautiful as the moon, the sun, and the stars shining together . . .” He sighed deeply, the picture of a love-struck man.

 

            “That doesn’t even make sense,” Hikaru snorted, then sighed, frowning. He had a brooding look on his face, and one hand stirred the cup of coffee in front of him. Nothing classy, Haruhi was amused to note. Just your regular, run of the mill, Starbucks coffee. “I have to get a lab partner this week.”

 

            “Hope you get someone competent. Shimatani-san’s lab partner last year didn’t know how to use her calculator.” Kyouya looked up from his math homework. Shimatani-san was Kyouya’s Advanced Physics lab partner, Haruhi recalled. The girl reminded Haruhi of a whirlwind, who usually appeared out of nowhere, said her piece, and was gone. “I did all the work for my first year lab partner. He was completely incompetent.”

 

            “Your homework looks clean, Kyou. Not that I expected anything less,” Honey leaned back in his chair. “Should be another perfect for you. I didn’t have a lab partner; math students don’t have labs.”

 

            “Ohtori-kun!” The voice yelled clearly over the noise in the Scholar’s cafeteria. The Osakan accent was as distinctive as the girl herself, who appeared suddenly at the table and slammed a math assignment on the table. “What did you get for question twenty two for the calculus assignment? My solution is eight pages long and my answer is . . . well, it’s wrong. I’m sure it’s wrong.”

 

            Kyouya ventured a look at the paper, and then his eyes widened. Simultaneously, Honey and Mori shot to their feet, slinging their backpacks onto their backs. Haruhi blinked, surprised, as Tamaki dragged her to her feet while gathering his sheet music messily into a folder and tucking it under one arm.

 

            Haruhi looked behind her, and her eyes widened. “But,” she heard herself murmur as Shimatani took one look behind her, swiped her homework, and pulled Kaoru to his feet as well. “But that’s not possible.”

 

            Her mother was striding towards her, a smile on her face. She was identical to the picture that Haruhi treasured and spoke to in the shrine at home, down to the hairstyle, the suit, the makeup. The only thing odd, aberrant about this picture was the syringe that she held in her left hand.

 

            “Move!” she heard someone snap in her ear, and all of a sudden she was being dragged. Tamaki still had her arm, and Hikaru had grabbed her backpack, his eyes wide and alarmed.  “Or do you want to become like that?”

 

            “Like what?” Haruhi asked, bewildered. Hikaru gestured wildly at another table of students, all with a stack of books half a foot high by their sides labelled “MCAT.” Medical school applicants?

 

            “So, I only averaged ninety-four percent last year,” one of the girls was tearfully telling the others. One of her friends put a pile of napkins in front of her, and she blew her nose. “At this rate, I’m never going to get into medical school! And I don’t have anywhere near enough extracurriculars, and, and, and my life is over!” She burst into tears, sobbing.

 

            “It’s okay,” another girl replied as the others around the table made soothing sounds. Somehow, Haruhi felt like their reaction wasn’t sincere. As if they were pretending to be comforting for her sake, but were secretly very happy that she was breaking down. She sneaked a look behind her again – her mother was approaching sedately. Just like she had always imagined her mother would walk.

 

            “So move!” Hikaru jerked on her arm, and she found herself stumbling after the others. Tamaki was pulling her along, and Kyouya and Honey were in the lead, slamming the doors to the cafeteria happened, and Shimatani wasn’t far behind them. Haruhi, bewildered, noticed that there were other students who were gathering their things and making a run for it. She tried to sneak another glance back at her mother, but Tamaki’s grip was too tight, and they were out of the cafeteria before she could turn.

 

            “It’s your fault!” she heard Kyouya snarl, as they dashed down a hallway. “You brought it here! If you’d just go to Ikutsuki-san or Miyano-san for once to check your calculus assignment!”

 

            “I told you!” Shimatani yelled back, her quaint accent drawing out her words. “Seiichi-kun isn’t in advanced calculus! And Ayu-chan doesn’t think on my level! And you think the Demon doesn’t want you too?! You’re only ranked first in the entire faculty!”

 

            “Just run!” Honey’s higher pitched voice rang clearly back to Haruhi. “Music rooms only have two windows and the door! It’ll be the safest place - Takashi can hold the door while Kyou, Shimatani-san and I write proofs! Shimatani, you can write a basic proof, right?”

 

            “If I couldn’t, do you think I could have survived last year?” The other girl choked out. Haruhi could hear her running out of breath, just as she herself was. Clearly, the other girl was not a runner. Around a corner they whipped, and Honey pulled open the door to a stairwell. Up to the third floor they ran, and Haruhi could feel herself lagging behind.

 

            “Come on,” Tamaki panted in her ear, still pulling her along by her arm. “It’s not much farther.”

 

            “I don’t understand,” she wheezed in reply. He didn’t reply, but she saw that he was right. The third floor was almost entirely music rooms, and Honey had used his student card to open the nearest one. Haruhi had just gotten in when the door slammed behind her, and Mori stood with his back to the door, carefully watching the hallway through a pane of glass. Haruhi slid to the floor on the opposite wall, the world spinning as she tried to catch her breath. Through the window in the door, she could see her mother approaching, smiling, waving the syringe. Her mouth opened, forming words that Haruhi could not hear, but could read instantly. “This won’t hurt a bit,” the figure was saying. “Not a bit.”

 

            “Come on, come on,” Shimatani was wheezing on the floor nearby, a pencil slippery in her grip and a piece of paper on the floor. She was scribbling very quickly a series of numbers and symbols.

 

            “Done,” Haruhi heard Honey say, as the small boy ricocheted to his feet and taped a sheet of paper to the door, facing outwards. Haruhi’s mother stopped, her face creasing into a frown. She stared at the numbers and formulae, confused. “Green’s Theorem.”

 

            “Clairaut’s Theorem,” Kyouya sprang to his feet, taping a sheet of paper onto one of the windows. Upon reflection, Haruhi realized that she’d never seen Kyouya quite as panicked as she had in the past five minutes.

 

            “Expressions for the method of least squares applied to a sinusoid!” The other girl declared weakly, staggering to her feet and taping her mathematical proof onto the last window. “We’re sealed.”

 

            “What . . .” Haruhi asked, her voice wispy. She had just seen her mother, who had been dead for fifteen years, and had just run from her. What was wrong with her? “What was that? My mother? My mother passed away fifteen years ago.” Somehow, she could not bring a tone of awe into her voice when she said that.

 

            “We call it the Demon of Med School Mania,” Honey said seriously, his eyes wide. “You can only see it if you’re smart, and you don’t want to be a doctor.”

 

            “About eighty percent of the Faculty of Science is afflicted with Med School Mania,” Shimatani wheezed. The girl had collapsed back on the floor, clearly exhausted. “Didn’t you see them? Crying because they don’t have perfect in every subject and don’t have a free “Get into medical school” card? You become like that if it gets you with its syringe.”

 

            “It appears to you as the most attractive, most beautiful thing or person that you could possibly imagine,” Tamaki said, serious for a change. His voice was reflective, sombre. “For example, I see my mother. She’s always beautiful, always just like I remember. . . ” His voice turned into one of rapture, and Haruhi could see his eyes moving, seeing something that no one else could. “Her blonde curls dancing in the wind, her gentle, beautiful smile . . .”

 

            “I see a giant version of Bun-bun holding a plate of cake in one hand and the syringe in the other,” Honey smiled sheepishly. “I was so surprised the first time I saw it, but one of the upperclassmen dragged me away.”

 

            “We see each other,” the twins chipped in, in chorus. That was something that Haruhi hadn’t heard them do in some time. “But there are only two of us, so it would only work if we were apart.” They exchanged a glance, and shrugged. “And we don’t own syringes.”

 

            “It will become confused and leave you alone if you write a mathematical proof and stick it to the door. The door and all openings to the room you’re sequestered in.” Kyouya said, his dry professionalism seeping through his tone. “Eventually, it leaves in search of other prey. I recommend having a math student write you some proofs and keeping them with you at all times.”

 

            “Oh, but math problems don’t work – they only slow it down,” Honey chipped in. “It has to be an actual proof. I tried using my first year linear algebra homework one time when I was in a panic, and it only slowed it down. It nearly got me that time.”

 

            “Oh,” Haruhi replied, at a loss for anything else to say. Such things existed? She had always been sure that ghosts, and demons, and the like were simply, simply superstition. But . . . there was something, something real about watching her own mother approach her with a syringe. “So. . . What do you see, Kyouya-senpai? I’ve never seen you look so . . .” she paused, trying to find the correct word. He hadn’t been terrified, but there had been that element of surprise and fear . . . “Alarmed.”

 

            “Don’t you think that’s a rather personal question, Haruhi?” Kyouya, apparently, had completely recovered. He sat down calmly on the piano bench. “I’d rather not say.”

 

            “He sees himself,” the other girl said from the floor. “We were coming out of first year calculus the first time we saw it. Ohtori-kun and I ended up in the same closet scribbling out the proof for the fundamental theorem of calculus.” She smiled, holding out her calculus assignment to him. “So about question twenty-two . . .”

 

***

 

More Author’s Notes:

            Med School Mania is something that my university is very much afflicted with. I thought one day, “What if it was personified?” and that’s how this was produced. As for, “Eighty percent of the Faculty of Science is afflicted?” Yeah, that’s a real stat. Basic Med Sci dwarfs the real science departments. Very frustrating, because the Sci Students Council always seems to forget about the physical and mathematical sciences.

 

Some details about their university and what they’re in was in the first “chapter” of this series, which was on Rush Week. Which isn’t actually posted anywhere, now that I think about it. xD. Anyway, Tamaki is a music student, specializing in piano performance. He’s repeating first year because he started off in business, but hated it so much he switched as soon as he could, and he’s the president of the Kappa Tau fraternity. Honey is a math student and the president of the Maths Students Association. Mori is a history student and is in varsity kendo. Kyouya studies concurrent business and physics, and is a prominent member of the competitive business team. Hikaru is a chemistry student and Kaoru is a literature student, but since both are in first year, they both take a wide range of classes. Haruhi is obviously in first year Law, which being more of a professional program, means she doesn’t have as wide of a range of courses. She’s also openly female, and is currently being vigorously courted by the University’s five sororities due to her connections.

 

Hikari Shimatani, Kyouya’s lab partner, gets introduced more or less properly in the “first” chapter; she’s your typical student with a massive education related debt, and Kyouya (as is also revealed in the last chapter) doesn’t mind having her around because she’s one of the top physics students in their year. They aren’t really that close, but she’s useful as a second female character. Other characters (such as Mizuki Asahina) are introduced as necessary.

 

The University is structurally based on my own university, though we don’t have a Scholars Building. I wish we did – it would be amazing, because then I would actually find a cubicle to study in during finals. Grrr.

Edit: Yay! Third place!