The two of you are probably brothers. Probably. By your father, not by your mother. Or Hibari's, for that matter.
You think it's weird sometimes; the way you came inexorably into the world by way of excessive drink and a broken condom and Hibari simply burst out of nothing, as if he'd existed all along exactly the way he is now. The way you're a mistake at best. And Hibari has never made a mistake in his life.
And all along the two of you are probably brothers.
Somehow.
Not that Hibari cares. You've never brought it up because even if it were true, Hibari wouldn't regard the world any differently. Hibari who has no bonds. Makes no mistakes. Holds no loyalty to any place but Namimori. He is as purposeless as the wind and as restless as summer; he'll sleep all day and fight all night, do whatever he pleases.
And so long as you do not get in his way, you may do the same.
But never beside him.
Because even when you were both in primary school and he put that third-year boy in the hospital for kicking your dog, that wasn't what it was for. He made a point of telling you. He licked a spot of blood off the end of his tonfa and said, "Don't go thinking you're special. I just wanted to see what sort of face he'd make as he died."
Hedgehogs suit him, you think. What with all those unforgiving spines of his.
And so you keep the two of you separate by name, because you like too much to see him rip other people apart with those fangs to ever want to find them at your own throat. Nobody would ever want to think that Kusakabe Tetsuya and Hibari Kyouya were brothers, anyway.
The words "Disciplinary Committee" have a better sound to them.