Hibari was annoyed. Somehow an herbivore had been allowed into his sanctuary. As a rule, no living creature was allowed to trespass, with the exception of Hibird. Hibird was the exception to many of Hibari's rules.
For example Hibird was allowed to touch Hibari's hair. If anyone else had tried such a thing, Hibari would have to bite them to death. Once Hibird woke Hibari up. Instead of instant death, the usual punishment for such a crime, Hibird received a stern glare and a meaningful snort. It had never happened again.
However there was a new exception to Hibari's rules, and he was not happy about it. Swift and painful death, or even slow and painful death, was not an option when dealing with this intruder. He wasn't certain how that option had been taken away. One moment he had been barely tolerating a gathering of herbivores that flocked to Sawada and the infant, the next moment he was promising that not only could the herbivore stay with him, but also not to cause permanent bodily harm. Death was about as permanent as you could get, although Hibari was sure that he could possibly argue that no harm was caused if it came down to it.
It was no wonder that although he got a full nights sleep, uninterrupted, that he still felt like destroying things. He didn't because while the destroying itself would be satisfying, the clean up afterward would be tedious and late for school. This was not allowed. He was law and order, being tardy was not an option.
He stalked his way through the halls of his apartment towards the kitchen in his boxers and a t-shirt. He never ate breakfast in his sacred uniform for fear that it would become stained. It was one thing for a stain to appear in the course of fulfilling his sacred duty. It was another thing entirely for it to be caused by instant miso and left over rice, his usual breakfast.
As he passed the room that the herbivore was staying in, he slammed his fist in the door as a wake up call. He was not going to be late because an undisciplined herbivore couldn't be bothered to wake up. There was no response. Hibari kept going, only vaguely aware of the sounds and smells of cooking coming from the kitchen.
It wasn't until he was in the kitchen doorway that he realized what the sounds and smells meant. There standing by the stove in his school pants and an undershirt stood the herbivore. He was scooping something from a steaming pot into two bowls that were balanced on his arm.
Idly Hibari noted that the bowls were probably hot, but considering that this herbivore used dynamite as a "weapon," it made since that he would have a tolerance for heat. The herbivore turned smoothly and gave a slight start when he made eye contact with Hibari. The content of the bowls sloshed about, but didn't spill over. Hibari was mildly impressed.
Oddly enough the herbivore didn't look scared, even though Hibari had managed to sneak up on him. Instead he looked embarrassed, as though he were doing something naughty. When Hibari saw what was in the bowl, he was suspicious that that was what had happened. It seemed to be full of grey lumpy paste, with bits of smaller black wrinkled things in it.
The herbivore set the bowls down, then himself. Before Hibari could join him the herbivore began to stir the paste with a spoon. Then he glanced at Hibari as though daring him to eat his concoction. Hibari sat and sniffed at the bowl before picking up a spoon. Apparently this was the go ahead for the herbivore because he began scooping the paste into his mouth with every indication that he was enjoying the experience.
"What's this?" Hibari demanded.
The herbivore swallowed before answering. "Breakfast." Hibari raised an eyebrow and waited for elaboration. "It's called oatmeal. Just eat it."
Hibari's nostrils widened. Nobody ordered him around. Not even Hibird. For the affront the herbivore deserved death. What he would get was a beating however, because Hibari kept his promises.
Before the herbivore could take another bite Hibari swung, tonfas already out. The herbivore dodged, his spoon clattering onto the table, bits of "oatmeal" scattering everywhere. The herbivore had improved since the last beating. Too bad it wasn't enough.
It took a grand total of 10 swipes, five of which connected, and a kick to the gut before the herbivore was on all fours, drool and blood spilling out of a gaping mouth. Hibari studied the herbivore as he rubbed his cheek, where a lucky punch got through. It was enough to sting, but not bruise. If it had bruised not even a promise would have kept the herbivore alive. As a reward for his tolerance, Hibari sat back down and viciously dug his heels into the herbivore's exposed back.
"Why?" Hibari demanded, stirring his "oat meal" ideally.
The herbivore glared at him, blood leaking from a small cut on his forehead. It was a good look for the herbivore, although Hibari was not about to say so.
"Because breakfast is the most important meal of the day," the herbivore spat before standing up slowly. Hibari could have kicked him back down, but he was feeling lazy and a little generous.
"Why cook?" Hibari elaborated. It was important to understand the motivation behind random acts of kindness. Because they could end up not being so kind in the end.
"It's an Italian thing," the herbivore shrugged, before picking up his discarded spoon and shoveling more "oat meal" into his mouth.
"The other Italian doesn't cook," Hibari accused.
"So you don't let your boyfriend, Bucking Horse, spend the night?" the herbivore laughed around a mouthful of paste.
Hibari glared, but refrained from beating the impudence out of the herbivore. Something told him that it was a less than effective training method. Instead he decided to change the subject before he changed his mind.
"Did you tell the infant about my debt?"
There was a pause because the herbivore had to swallow a particularly large mouthful of "oat meal" before answering. "Of course," he said in a highly sarcastic tone. "I also arranged for my apartment to blow sky high, because this is really just an elaborate conspiracy to get you all to myself." The herbivore flashed a manic, borderline psychotic, grin before returning completely to his regular, sullen self. "I didn't even know that you owed me. How the fuck could I have told Reborn something that I didn't even know about?"
After his speech there was a tense silence, broken only by the sound of the herbivore shoving obscenely large helpings of "oat meal" into his mouth. Having run out of excuses, and seeing that the herbivore hadn't died from his own cooking, Hibari took his first cautious bite of breakfast. It was alright, for non-Japanese food. The grey lumpy part was actually a little sweet without being overly so and the black wrinkly bits provided a little tang that was kind of pleasant. It was an above edible meal.
The breakfast maker, yes the herbivore had been promoted, finished his meal and rose to rinse his bowl in the sink. He also took the pot used to cook the food and began cleaning it. Once everything was cleared of left over food and set in the dishwasher, the breakfast maker left. Hibari didn't stop him, because he liked initiative in his underlings, just not too much.
Hibari took a few minutes to savor his breakfast in privacy before he got up to rinse his bowl. It wasn't the best breakfast he had ever eaten, but it was miles about instant miso and left over rice, so it warranted some time. Once the small chore of dishes was finished he went to his bedroom, where he changed into his freshly laundered and pressed uniform.
Then he gathered his school bag. Most students carried books and homework in their school bag. Hibari could not be troubled with such trivial things. Instead his bag was full of the essentials needed to carry it his sacred duty to the school. A spare uniform, his badge, and bird seed for Hibird. Once everything was packed away he grabbed his cell phone and shoved it in his pocket.
Once again he walked down the hall and while passing the breakfast maker's room, he pounded on the door. "We're leaving," Hibari ordered, while walking to the front door.
"Okay," the breakfast maker's voice floated up from behind him. There was no sound of someone coming to heel. Hibari glanced behind him and saw that the hall was just as empty as it had been before. Hibari decided to give the breakfast maker 10 seconds before he went after him.
'10… 9… 8… Alright that's long enough.'
Hibari stalked back up the hallway and slammed the door of the breakfast maker's room open. It was empty. The guest futon was folded neatly in a corner, next to that sat the breakfast maker's overnight bag, and next to the door was a school bag, ready to go. Why was the breakfast maker not like his school bag?
Hibari strained his ears to hear the location of the breakfast maker. The only sound in the whole apartment, besides his and Hibird's breathing, was the sound of running water… Breakfast maker was in the bathing room.
The door to the bathing room crashed against the wall thanks to a well placed kick. "Now Breakfast Maker," Hibari growled out. The breakfast maker just stood there, naked, with only a washcloth to protect his modesty. Apparently he had been cleaning out some injuries on his chest, because the washcloth had pink stains on it.
"Breakfast Maker?" the breakfast maker shrieked. "No fucking way! Why couldn't you have come up with a less gay nick name? Like, I don't know, Cock Sucker? What the fuck?"
"If you are not dressed in the next 10 seconds I am dragging you as you are to school," Hibari informed the breakfast maker, completely ignoring the way the water ran over intriguingly pale skin and ropey muscles.
Apparently the breakfast maker had a bit of an exhibitionist streak, because instead of immediately complying, he leisurely reached for a towel and started to dry himself off. Grumbling about antisocial freaks and voyeurism.
"10…" Hibari started, just to show the breakfast maker how serious he was. "9… 8…" the breakfast maker's pace sped up a little and he started reaching for the clothes that were neatly folded on the other side of the room. "7… 6… 5…" one leg was thrust into the boxers the breakfast maker had been wearing that morning. "4… 3… 2…" the other leg was thrust in and the boxers were raised to his hips. "One!" Hibari shouted before grabbing the breakfast maker by his hair and stalking to the front door.
There was resistance on the breakfast maker's part, but that seemed to be only to grab the rest of his uniform. Assured of the breakfast maker's compliance, Hibari didn't loosen his grip, even when the breakfast maker struggled again in an attempt to grab his school bag.
At the front door Hibari paused. He felt something long and cylindrical being put up his sleeve. There was also the faint sound of hissing. It was almost too late by the time Hibari remembered that the breakfast maker's proffered "weapon" was dynamite, which he hid all over his body and clothes. Although how he missed seeing the dynamite in the bathing room was a mystery to Hibari.
Deftly Hibari switched the hand that gripped the breakfast maker's silver hair. With a flick of the original wrist the hissing dynamite fell into his palm. Casually, as though he put dynamite out every day he pinched the wick, only to hear more hissing.
There was another stick of dynamite. This time it was in his other sleeve. Hibari sighed and repeated the hand exchange, knowing full well that he would end up with yet another stick of dynamite in his sleeve.
"I can do this all day," the breakfast maker smirked. "So how about you stop wasting time and let me get dressed?"
"How about I bite you to death and drag your body to school?" Hibari asked, putting out yet another stick of dynamite.
"That'll take too long. You'll be late."
Reluctantly Hibari released the breakfast maker's hair. When the breakfast maker started turning away to return to his room, Hibari stopped him. It only took a hand on the shoulder, but the answering glare told Hibari that the breakfast maker understood his message.
With an efficiency that Hibari almost admired, the breakfast maker unfolded his uniform and began dressing. Hibari had just enough patients to wait for pants, socks, and shirt to be put on before he grabbed the herbivore by the hair again and left the house. The breakfast maker's curses were oddly satisfying.