I think I have a problem with Hikaru Himuro…I'm obsessed with him lately; started two fics in as many days, and then there's Dragons' Blood, which I need to write chapter four of.
So, anyway, I decided to write a random, humor-drabble-thingy, which, considering who I'm writing about, might flop, but what the hey.
Summary: There are many things to world does not know about Hikaru Himuro. One of them is the fact that he really hates swamp slime.
Disclaimer: (deep, heavy sigh) Alu does not own Hikaru Himuro, though she now has given him a weird nickname that she will not tell you for fear of being ridiculed.
Swamp Slime
God I hate this kid, thought Hikaru, glaring with his signature deadpan look at the wall in the stupid dungeon cell with Oozora. He shivered imperceptibly in the thin blanket wrapped around his body.
Not many people knew this (well duh, as he has no friends and does not speak), but Hikaru Himuro had a particular hatred for green swamp slime. And being punched. And being tackled in midair in the middle of trying to murder. And the world.
But especially swamp slime. And, at the moment, Reiji Oozora.
Oozora, of course, was cheerful about the whole thing, chatting comfortably with that Kouryuu guy about dreams and ambitions. Hikaru suspected Stockholm syndrome. Of course, Oozora was probably just stupid. If Hikaru started talking to their captors, that was most likely Stockholm syndrome.
As he leaned against the wall of the cell, which was probably infested by about a thousand rats, he allowed his mind to wander. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a tiny rat-like dragon peering through a hole in the wall. He was probably never going to get used to the fact that everything was a dragon in Ri-kyuu. Even the bugs, according to the life story Oozora was giving the Kouryuu guy.
As his mind wandered, it flicked back and forth between an image of himself and Oozora finally fighting, and his hatred of swamp slime. He finally settled on the swamp slime, deciding he needed an hour-long shower. Unfortunately, in Ri-kyuu, the closest thing was a waterfall—always freezing, never private. Damn.
Including having had a bucket of freezing water emptied on his head after being dragged from the godforsaken swamp, he'd had a total of five "showers" since arriving in Ri-kyuu, not counting the three times he'd found a random rock pool and simply dunked his head in it. Last resort, clearly.
Now, of course, he felt disgusting; there was probably still swamp slime in his hair, and the bucket with which the locals had dumped water on him was probably filthy.
Sometimes, he really hated Ri-kyuu. Why couldn't Oozora have stayed in the dimension where there were showers?
Not that Himuro was obsessed with showers, but seriously.
He really needed to get this stupid slime out of his hair.
END
The shortest fic I've ever written. I think. Anyway, if anyone read this, please review.