Do As You Like Chapter Fourteen

Disclaimer: I think I should stop making these, evidenced by how many times I've forgotten to add them already. I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! I can try all I want, but I'll never be able to draw a gun without reference. /sigh.

{KHR33KHR}

"Ah, Hibari-san is so cool…"

"He's so amazing—took down that banchou from Azakawa High like it was nothing!"

"Well, he's Hibari-san, after all! Our committee chairman can't be weak!"

He kept his head down as he ran, fists clenched beside him as his breaths fell into rhythm. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, his body supplied, moving along in a pattern he remembered learning as a child and adapting to suit his pace. Overhead the sun had yet to rise, and he felt a bit heavy as a result—his sister liked to joke that he was like a sunflower sometimes, steady and steadfast, but he always brushed off the praise with a blush on his face and a tingle in his ears. It was just the sun; as extreme as it was, it couldn't really have anything to do with his physical ability, could it?

Well, whatever. Still running—more like sprinting—the boy sketched a tight curve at a corner and plowed forward, adamant on finishing this next lap before dashing all the way home like the extreme guy he was to take an extreme shower and prepare for another extreme day of school. Kyouko's extreme breakfast waited for him, and he could practically taste her special seven-hour energy drink already. Renewed by the prospect of nourishment, he plowed onward.

And ran into someone.

Normally, this didn't happen. Ryohei wasn't the type to space out during his exercise—it was never extreme to hit and run, after all—so he skidded to a stop and backtracked, panting slightly as his heart slowed to acceptable levels. With sweat sliding down his cheek, the boxer faced his accidental target.

Oh. Those eyes were really scary. But also extreme! He grinned a bit sheepishly, and extended a hand to help the other person up, then blinked as the other boy ignored it and pulled himself up. Ryohei laughed and retracted his arm.

"Sorry about that!" He apologized rather loudly, showing off his pearly white though slightly crooked teeth. "Didn't see you there!"

The shorter teen indifferently brushed off his slacks and grunted, though in affirmation or not Ryohei wasn't sure. Was he older? Ryohei kind of recognized him—had they passed by each other at school before?

Speaking of school, didn't he have to get ready? With a last startled look in the dark-haired boy's direction, he spun on his heel and dashed all the way back home to where Kyouko waited with his breakfast. Rude or not, he was hungry! If he was right, they'd run into each other at school anyway.

Food, he thought. Kyouko's extreme food is waiting for me! And with his ever-present dying will, he sped on home as fast as he could.

Later that day, Ryohei found himself fighting the Disciplinary Chairman.

How did this happen? To be honest, Ryohei wasn't entirely sure. It just so happened that the name, "Hibari," felt a bit familiar to him. Extreme, too. And since the tournament with Hisui Middle was coming up and everyone needed to train—even him, no matter what his club members claimed—he figured, why not? An extreme match with an extreme guy (that was apparently very scary) seemed right up his alley.

So he went up to the Disciplinary Chairman and yelled at him. Loudly.

In hindsight, he could have done better, but Hibari agreed, so that was okay, right?

Huffing as exhaustion tinted his muscles and seeped into his skin like ink, Ryohei threw another right hook at his adversary. Hibari was strong. Really strong! Across from him and slightly to the left, the blond, broad-shouldered teen growled as Ryohei's fist passed by his ear. He then jerked his red spectacles off as he ducked and aimed for Ryohei's gut.

With adrenaline singing in his ears, the boxer narrowed his eyes and evaded the attack before spinning behind and shooting off a counterpunch of his own. It connected with a solid thump, sending Hibari flying back to slide on his back and absorb the fall with a roll. Fighting back an overly happy expression (Kyouko had warned him that doing so would scare other people) Ryohei leapt at the wavering stance of his opponent before jerking back from what would have been a devastating sucker punch.

"You're not bad," Hibari acknowledged with a surprisingly deep voice, nodding at him.

Smiling briefly, Ryohei replied, "You're pretty extreme too, Hibari!"

(For some reason, that caused Hibari to blink in confusion, but Ryohei didn't bother to ponder on it, already too swept up in the fight.)

After a moment, they both stared the other down. Then, as if on cue, the two shot toward each other at the same time, dissolving into a flurry of punches and blows that either connected or slid off entirely. Ryohei felt the peripheral time slip away like sand as he immersed himself in the moment, and punched and punched and punched as hard as he could. Air resistance felt like water slowing him down; he was sure Hibari felt the same. Finally, they both struck simultaneous hits.

…Ow. The duo promptly collapsed, nursing their aching jaws and grinning at each other like loons. That was what boxing was about, Ryohei thought happily to himself. Two men fighting a man's fight! Satisfaction thrummed through his body.

But there was something odd about his new friend, Ryohei decided as the other teen grabbed his large gakuran and shoved his glasses back on.

But what?

{KHR18KHR}

"You what."

Tetsuya beamed at me and wiped the blood away from his mouth as he answered cheerily, "I enrolled you in Namimori Chuu."

I checked his expression, bearing and tone before grimacing. This wasn't a prank or joke—he was serious. Which lead to me wondering why on Earth he'd decided to do such a thing without my say-so.

"Tetsuya," I deadpanned, mouth pressed into a thin line, "I'm not going back to middle school." More like backward into middle school, seeing as I had skipped it in this life. I didn't fancy the thought of reabsorbing the hurricane of drama I faintly remembered from my memories.

"But you've been really listless lately!" My second-in-command protested, much to my discomfort. "You always sigh—"

"Because the yakuza have been planning something, I'm sure."

"—and last night you didn't eat dinner with Wase-san—"

"I had an early dinner with Tsuna, and when did Wase tell you this?"

"—and I'm worried about you, Kyo-san!" He steamrolled on, gesturing helplessly with his hands. Growling, the (temporary, if I had anything to say about it) blond swiped his spectacles off and rubbed furiously at the lens. "I've read about prodigies losing touch with the world after they feel as if they have nothing left to do, and you're showing all the signs! I think having something to do (like beating up delinquents) will help!"

I kicked the teenager in the chest and strode forward to where he landed some feet away. My foot pressed against his sternum. "I'm not a prodigy," I stated blandly, pointing a gleaming tonfa between his eyes as I glowered. "I'm not some lost child about to lose touch with reality. What do you take me for?"

To be honest, I felt affronted that he would even think such a thing.

"Fine," Tetsuya pouted, flopping backward and spreading his arms out. "I'm just trying my best to look out for you."

"I don't need people looking out for me," I declared with disdain, scowling. "That'd be pathetic."

"Well, you don't need it, but I want to. So I am. You need normal human contact!"

Rolling my eyes, I jabbed his forehead. "I interact with people on a daily basis. What part of that isn't normal?"

"You command them," Tetsuya pointed out as he prodded my unwavering weapon. "And they all fear you. Or in the case of your subordinates, me included, we adore you."

Ugh. If there was ever anything that irritated me more than mindless herbivores, it was the adoration of mindless herbivores.

At last drawing back my tonfa, I grunted. "Why they do so I have no idea."

Tetsuya brightened. "You're charismatic, Kyo-san! You have this leadership sort of aura that—"

I walloped him upside the head, using more strength this time. Wisely, he stopped talking.

We descended into silence.

"…Does that mean you're not going to Nami Chuu?"

Glaring at him, I stomped harder onto his already injured chest. Then I paused and reconsidered.

"You said there were delinquents. Tell me more."

{KHR18KHR}

"Th-Thi-This is Hibari Ky-Kyouya," stammered the homeroom teacher, sweating from behind his desk. "P-Please introduce y-yourself, Hi-Hi-Hibari-san."

What a pathetic man, I inwardly mused. Ah, well. That would make skipping classes that much easier. Gazing cooly over the third years, I clearly declared, "My name is Hibari. Wake me up from my naps and you will die. I will bite to death any and all dissenters of the peace. Don't talk to me."

That went well, I thought to myself. The front row looked about ready to be evacuated.

Following that, I ignored the teacher's stammers and absquatulated the room.

(Hah. Absquatulate. …Damn, Wase was rubbing off on me more than I thought.)

Namimori Middle School wasn't much different from Namimori Elementary of Namimori High. Its layout was different, to be sure; whereas the elementary school had winding and twisting halls, the middle school had a more solid base and setup. Namimori High seemed the least complicated of the three with its straightforward paths. I liked the ambiance that the schools exuded. I wondered why.

Tetsuya hadn't truly needed to enroll me in this school. I could have organized everything from home or gone out on my own to discipline brats if I wanted to. After all, I'd done just the same in high school as well as elementary. But it seemed that my blond follower wouldn't take no for an answer, and while I could have swayed his mind had I wanted to, it had felt like too much work at the time.

So I went along with it. Wasn't like I had anything to really do other than patrols, and those were getting unnecessary lately.

Stalking the halls felt like prowling in my own home, like observing my own property and judging it so see if anyone had tampered with it. Certainly, many things did not match up with the blueprints I had procured from the former headmaster's office, but nothing differed enough to cause great concern. I found a reception room, inspected it, and deemed it suitable for my needs. Already plans cropped up in my mind for my new napping room: a stove would fit nicely in the corner, some bamboo trees could brighten the room because why not, my mother had always liked bamboo, and if I added drapes to the window and a couple of couches, it'd feel just like Kisuke's old office.

Huh. I blinked, and cocked my head. Perhaps I could visit their graves again and have some tea with them. While cherry blossom season last month would have been a nice time, any time would be fine, wouldn't it? Mentally rearranging my schedule, I locked the door to the reception room and found myself making a random circuit around the building.

Quiet hallways; a murmur through closed doors; a buzzing silence from underneath the skin; it'd been a while, but I felt natural inside of a school. What would my namesake have felt at this moment, with his eyes closed as he wandered aimlessly? I idly wondered as I ascended the stairs to the roof. He would have loved this feeling.

(Ah. Now that I think about it, hadn't he…?)

The wind pulled at my hair with little dainty hands, and I inhaled deeply, a cleansing breath, moving to lean on the metal wire fence at the edge. A high place, a free place—it felt like I could leap off at that moment and float away like a cloud, rising and falling and drifting away. Heights were nice. I liked the feel of adrenaline under my skin.

Well. Nap time, I thought to myself, looking forward to some sleep. I yawned and promptly allocated a bench.

Well, if there was once thing constant about being Hibari Kyouya, it certainly was undisturbed rest.

Not.

The door to the roof opened a tad loudly, a bit too swiftly to mean subtlety. Whoever it was, he or she must be accustomed to coming up to the roof. Why, though? With my eyes shut, I felt more than heard the warm body move in my territory, his blood permeating the air like a gentle, pungent perfume. An injury… injuries, I deduced, but who was it?

The boy fell against my bench like a cut marionette—almost touching me but not quite, just close enough to graze me skin with his body heat—and groaned before moving. I heard the familiar click of a first-aid box opening, and I admit, it piqued my curiosity.

"Students are not allowed up on the school roof," I murmured indifferently, opening my eyes to stare at the sky. Obscured by a multitude of clouds, the sun hid almost shyly, nowhere to be found in immediate range of sight. It made the sky feel dark and heavy; it would rain soon. Perhaps there would even be a storm.

"Oh! You're extremely awake!" Something about that voice jarred me enough to sit up and face the herbivore that dared to encroach on my space. Herbivores were like that; I could let them hover beside me, but any closer and I'd eat them. Simple as that.

Snow white hair, cropped and wild, entered my eyesight almost immediately. I stopped and stared before forcibly making my gaze shift. Purple-blue bruises throbbed on the boy's knuckles, and cuts littered his face, drawing jagged lines beside his chin, on his cheeks, and adjacent to the junction of his neck. His skin, like most others living in the temperate climate of Namimori, shone with a bronze hue that contrasted greatly with his natural(?) hair color.

"Sasagawa Ryohei." Finally placing his identity, I scrutinized him with a practiced eye. His lip bled from a split down the middle, and the skin around his left eye was shiny and black. From the various injuries on his person, I inferred that his opponent had not been faster, but perhaps stronger; the attacks clipped him but dealt great damage. "Who did you fight?"

Who should I punish for harming a Namimori citizen? I cocked my head in a manner that Wase always claimed to look animalistic, and tapped my fingers against my tonfa holsters. Sasagawa, for all of his brashness and impudence, had no where near the temperance of a delinquent.

"Ah!" He shouted suddenly, as if finally remembering, "Extreme! Hibari is really strong!"

I blinked.

Sasagawa jabbed at the air a couple of times, a manic grin on his young face. "That guy… He's definitely fit to be the Disciplinary Committee Chairman! He's got an extreme right hook!"

I stared.

"I want him to join the boxing club!" Declared the hyperactive (read: singleminded) herbivore with zeal. "Alright! I'll go ask him right now!"

He zipped (no other word for it) off of the rooftop to who-knows-where before I could bemusedly ask him, "But I'm right here…?"

Ugh. No; it was probably for the best that I didn't have time to react so weakly.

But still. What on Earth?

Later that day, after my overdue nap, I sat in my room and tuned up my tonfa. With an oiled rag, I wiped at the areas that needed the least friction—which, admittedly, included every section of collapsable metal. Diligently wiping the bloodstains away, I focused on ensuring that the additional accessories continued to function as well as I liked.

sHiNk. I traced a hook with the pad of my index finger, testing the point to ensure optimal puncturing efficiency. Like the talons of a bird of prey, all eighteen were large and durable. Despite this, they wore away easily, hence my double-checking.

After sharpening the afflicted areas, I flicked my wrist and allowed the hooks to slide back inside their hollow compartments. To be fair, I hadn't had much to fix; this week I hadn't utilized them too much. I did have half the mind, however, to revisit the armory that had outfitted my weapons with their spines.

Deadly, swift, and bloodthirsty—that was my ultimate goal. In my memories I could vaguely recall Kisuke having described Tsubame as this during dinner once as he sat, too bloody and bruised and tired to do more than barely pick at the meal my mother had given him. I hadn't thought much of it at the time, but they had fought too, hadn't they? Or sparred. I didn't seem to have noticed.

I didn't notice a lot of things.

Was that why, then, that Tsubame had encouraged my violent tendencies rather than curb them? Why both my mother and father—and uncle, come to think—had ghosted through the house as if phantoms, only making noise to alert me to their presences?

Tsubame had been a Triad princess. I'd never known. Or was it that she had become a florist to run away from this responsibility?

My stomach roared and gnawed from inside my body. Ah. Thinking too much again.

Wase had an overnight shift, so that night I musingly prepared a simple meal for myself. In spite (for he had not informed me of the matter beforehand), I used up most of the beef, but the meat had never been expensive, and I got discounts all the time. Wase would whine later, I knew, but if I purchased some taiyaki for him he'd instantly change his mind.

Wait, why did I have to keep him happy?

…Whatever. Too tired to deal with this (Wase always made my head hurt), I curled up inside my futon and immediately fell into quiet, painless oblivion.

{KHR18KHR}

"Hey, it's you!"

Once again interrupted from my sleep with my eyebrow twitching erratically, I pulled out my tonfa and lashed at his shoulder. "Don't call me 'you,' you herbivore," I warned, not deigning to turn in his direction. "Learn some manners—I'm older than you." [1]

Apparently Sasagawa could care less about manners. "Eh, it doesn't matter, right? We're extreme buddies!"

"Not. Buddies." The latter word fell from my lips with bitter spite, and I could practically taste the disdainful word on my tongue. "I am not your friend."

"Aww come on, don't be shy! We can be boxing buddies! Oh! Are you self conscious of your height? Don't worry! I was extremely short too before I—"

I clamped a hand on his mouth. "Shut up."

He shut up. Then he licked my hand.

I almost verbalized my revulsion ("Fuck, gross!") but held it in at the last moment and opted for a more cultured response. My tonfa whopped him across the temple. It wasn't enough to knock him out, of course (no matter how much I wanted to send his conscious flying out of the stratosphere, he didn't really deserve it… or maybe he did), but the blow sent him sprawling on the ground like a felled animal.

Unfortunately (or fortunately for him), he jumped back to his feet with nary a wobble, a fire in his eyes kindling stronger than before. His hands clenched into fists, scabbed but not bleeding, and he roared, "Extreme! Let's fight!"

…I really shouldn't have done that, I told myself as I resisted the urge to palm my face. Even so, I felt a smile rearrange my face, my eyes narrowing to focus on his weaknesses as I darted forward and struck out with my foot. It connected solidly with his chest—with much resistance despite his injured ribcage—and I advanced on my prey. Kick, duck, sta—oh, wait, no bloodshed—block. This kid, at the very least, was faster than the delinquent trash that plagued my school, despite being much slower than Tsuna or Wase. In next to no time I floored the herbivore again, cornering him with a tonfa at his jugular.

Sasagawa laughed almost voraciously. "Alright, again! That was extreme, buddy!"

Urk.

With a loud crack, I darkly reiterated, "I am no one's buddy," then huffed and climbed off of him. "Get up."

He obeyed, and this time I unequipped my weapons to elbow him in the sternum. Slipping around him, my speed enhancing my dexterity, I aimed for his weak spots. Neck, fleshy stomach, kidney, spine—with each blow I made sure to hold back to keep from permanently incapacitating him. I wasn't completely heartless.

No, really. Sort of.

Or maybe I held back because every time I looked at him and saw the face of his six-year-old self, the harbinger and preface to the worst chapter of my existence. Maybe I had a weakness for those who accepted me.

Or maybe not, I thought as I watched him fall limply to the ground; one hand reached up to rub at the graze on my left cheek where his fist had moved so quickly that it had drawn blood. I'd hit his temple too hard, and now stared at his crumpled form. I sighed and hefted him over to the bench with one arm. The other arm I used to grab the first-aid kit.

Bandaging someone else wasn't within my… behavioral skill set, so while my hands went through the practiced motions, it felt odd to do it from the other side—helping another person rather than myself. I didn't help Tsuna after sparring matches, and nor did I help Wase. Why did I help Sasagawa?

I wasn't sure, and I tried not to care.

But first's thing's first, I decided as I disinfected the boxer's knuckles. Who the hell was going around pretending to be me?

{KHR27KHR}

When Tsuna walked into Kyouya's house, mildly listening to some music as he invited himself into the mansion (it didn't exactly have a doorbell), he did not expect to see Kusakabe-kun lying on the ground knocked out cold. Or maybe he did. What he didn't expect to see was his semi-terrifying best friend Kyouya murderously sheathing his bloodied tonfa as he righted a tipped-over kitchen table.

"…Am I interrupting something?" The brunet scratched his head and pulled off his headphones. Immediately, Tsunayoshi piped up, voice a tad annoyed.

You would know if you didn't plug your ears all the time, he snidely commented. Tsuna rolled his eyes and coiled up the wires to tuck the device inside his book bag.

What can I say? He snarked, I like the surprise. Stop whining like a neglected baby.

Ooh, touchy. Still feeling down about Papa leaving without telling us? Of course you are.

'Tsk'ing, Tsuna mussed up his hair and slid over to Kyouya's side. Shut up, he shot back. And don't call him that. He's not—

Worth it? But we still love him, don't kid ourselves.

Before Tsuna could reply, Kyouya scoffed and picked up a pot of boiling water from the stove. The older boy jammed the tea leaves into the vessel before sighing and stiffly sitting down on a cushion. "No, you're not. What are you doing here, Tsu-kun? I thought you had homework to do."

Dubiously looking over his tired-looking friend's face, Tsuna eased into a cushion opposite of him. "Finished. Took forever, but I did. And can't I visit you on weekdays?" He ignored the pleasure that came with hearing his nickname; it made him feel special.

Normal complex.

I do not!

"Tea?"

Flinching and nodding at Kyouya's prompting, Tsuna hastily moved to cover up his bout of idleness. The dark-haired teen raised a brow but refrained from commenting, instead choosing to take a sip from his cup.

Oh? He's made a lavender-valerian root blend this time, Tsunayoshi noted with surprise. Inside of Tsuna's mind, he appeared to cock his head and consider the drink. "It smells good," murmured the mental manifestation of Tsuna's sky flames, his intonation a bit thick and slurred, as if drowsy. Tsunayoshi took a sip. "Tastes good too. Not too sweet."

Unsurprised, Kyouya quirked a smile and inhaled the steam still wafting from the teacup in his hand. "Hello, Tsunayoshi."

"How is life, Hibari-san?" He politely inquired. "Kusakabe isn't giving you too much trouble, is he?" With a smirk on his face, the brunet gestured to the unconscious blond.

"Fine, all told. There's just been a case of stolen identities lately. I'm working it all out. How about your end? I haven't seen—" or heard, Tsunayoshi intuited, "—from you in a while."

That was what both Tsuna and Tsunayoshi liked about their childhood friend—or rather, one aspect to his complex whole. Hibari-san cared for both equally, managing to know where one distinguished from the other and when both crept into one. Shrewd was the word, but Tsuna preferred to call the frightful justice-seeker sharp and clever instead.

It was then, however, that Tsuna gently yanked back control over his body and opened his mouth. "My father visited recently," he explained a bit morosely. "He left last night without telling us, so I figured, 'Hey, I can hang out at Kyouya's house and do some more of that.'"

That, of course, being flame manipulation. But considering the fact that the pair weren't alone—or the only two conscious bodies in the room anymore—Tsuna had decided to censor now and address the queasy blond on the ground.

Kyouya beat him to the punch, quite literally punching the top of the Disciplinary Committee Vice-Chairman's head. "Hn," he grunted irritably, "It's getting too easy to incapacitate you. Train some more before you decide to do something stupid again. Better yet, don't do something stupid ever."

Disoriented, Kusakabe-kun opened his mouth, then closed it. Quite visibly, Kyouya was pleased by this.

"Go clear things up. It's hard enough to be around loud herbivore without biting them to death, but that one's too injured to chance being around me." The prefect kicked his second-in-command with an audible thump. "Go."

And Kusakabe-kun went. Tsuna cocked his head. Tsunayoshi smirked. "It's Sasagawa-san, isn't it?" Spoke the latter, smiling knowingly. "The one with white hair?"

Kyouya paused and considered the elementary schooler. "You've seen him before."

"He runs around a lot in my peripheral vision. Tsuna doesn't notice, but I tend to see more than he does."

Stop bragging, you special complex. We all know you're my intuition!

Huffing a laugh, Tsunayoshi took a sip of the tea. Well, well, jealous of little old me?

"Hmm," hummed the adolescent across from the brunet, swirling his tea in his cup with languid ease. "Tsuna, stop feeling inadequate. Case-in-point, you're both each other, therefore whatever insults you pitch at him are moot."

…Sometimes I wonder if we're too open or if Hibari-san is too good at noticing things, Tsunayoshi mused after a moment of stunned silence. He's not like us—like me—but he's pretty close.

He's Kyouya, Tsuna projected reasonably, pouting at the boy in question and flicking a bright orange ember at him. "Stop looking so smug."

"Who, me?" And yeah, still smug. Kyouya rested his check on his hand before yawning widely, not bothering to cover his mouth at all. "Why, I never." He snorted. "So how are you?"

"All good. Couldn't be better. /M not weak, after all," Tsuna answered laughingly with false cheer, omitting how poor he truly felt; Kyouya didn't like weaknesses after all, and admitting that his father's absence—after all these years—hurt more than he'd thought, that would be weak. I mean, Kisuke-san and Tsubame-san aren't here anymore either, and Kyouya doesn't complain about it. To take his mind off of the matter, he took a longer draught of tea with his next sip. The warm tea soothed whatever nerves he'd acquired before coming to the prefect's house. After a momentary sigh, the Vongola heir looked up to see his friend smiling uncharacteristically widely. "Wh-What?"

"Nn? Nothing," Kyouya denied, still grinning. "It's nothing."

The sparkles behind him looked like they came straight out of a shoujo manga. Quite frankly, Tsuna felt disturbed.

It's like toner, Tsunayoshi observed.

Like prince toner, Tsuna agreed, like I can reach out and touch the stars. How is that possible?

"Nee, Tsu-kun," the tonfa-wielder began dangerously, his smile still bright and plastic on his face, "Remember when we first met?"

A drop of sweat rolled down Tsuna's face. Do you have any idea what's up?

I have a guess, Tsunayoshi whispered nervously.

"…Yes?" Truth be told, Tsuna didn't remember everything. The thing about memories was that they could be fickle—therefore Tsuna only half recalled that instance. When the thought came up, he felt the emotions of that day; fear, sorrow, self-depreciation, and loneliness were some to name a few. He didn't remember any of the words spoken between the two, yet the relief he had felt, the joy and self indulgence of holding Kyouya's hand came back like a wave. How funny memories were, he thought, to be so blurry yet so clear.

"You're a leech," admitted Kyouya rather bluntly, pointing a rude finger at him. "From the beginning I never planned to befriend you."

…Eh?

…Oh.

"The world works in strange ways—I don't get what I want, just what I don't want to get. You've known me for all of these years already. I never wanted to be your friend."

Tsuna felt his chest deflate like a bag. "…Really." His voice came out tiny and strangled, and even thought he knew the fact—had known but not acknowledged it for a long time—it was hard to hear the words pouring forth from his best friend's lips.

I-I mean, Kyouya's pretty antisocial, huh? He doesn't really like herbivores like me, and, and—is he… We haven't seen him in a while. Is he going to tell us he doesn't want to be friends with a weakling anymore?

Stoically, Tsunayoshi revealed nothing.

Kyouya leaned forward so that he could rest his elbows on the table. His yukata sleeves hung off of the edge of the table like little gray flags, and Tsuna found that he couldn't look away. Anywhere was fine other than the older boy's face.

"You're weak, nearly spineless, and everyone thinks you're useless. You trip over your two feet, and you can't even remember the simplest of formulas in mathematics. Why would I have wanted to be your friend?"

Belatedly, Tsuna noticed that his vision was blurry. He wanted to wipe at his eyes, but then that would admit that he was crying, and Tsuna couldn't do that.

"So why am I your friend?"

"…I don't know." Why was he Tsuna's friend anyway? Kyouya was cool and collected and intelligent. Strong, too, very strong, and influential. Tsuna was just… Some random kid with connections to the mafia. What was so good about him?

"Exactly. You don't know." Kyouya dropped his smile with a pause. "It's because of what I saw that day."

…?

Continuing softly, the prefect's expression betrayed a faraway place in his mind, as if his memories had taken him and swallowed him whole. "You were unhappy. Scared. Tiny, weak, helpless. But there was something about you that I couldn't leave behind. Why was that? And then I realized after meeting with you later that I wasn't wrong of my earlier conceptions. You're clumsy and a bit slow. What made you so different?

"It's because you were afraid of me. Terrified, actually. But you didn't run away. You clung to me instead, like a starfish. At the time I thought that I would help you because I wanted to redeem myself in a way. In a way, I'm still redeeming myself with you. But that's not it." He blinked and his face seemed almost open in a way, like the enclosed emotions within his heart were pouring forth from his eyes. Tsuna couldn't breathe. This, here, was Hibari Kyouya showing weakness.

Tsuna could not believe his eyes.

"You accept me for who I am. You hold no expectations, no ulterior motives, nothing. Just acceptance. I respected that, but there was another thing. You, herbivore," Kyouya revealed with exasperation, "don't know anything. You take public words at face value, and that influences how you think. But you intrigued and redeemed me, so I said nothing.

"Did I not tell you that I don't tolerate idiots? Why have I stuck with you for all of these years? Because I'm benevolent?" He hissed. "I also hate liars." Here, the boy snapped and yanked at Tsuna's collar, shaking his slightly. "I—"

All motion stopped. Kyouya hesitated and closed his mouth. Opened it. Closed it again.

"Damn it." Clearly, this anger counted as 'strong emotion,' which was why Kyouya's arms suddenly burned with bright red patches. "Never mind. Just… Stop hiding emotions from me. You're the only person I know who doesn't lie. Don't start now."

Frustratedly, Kyouya dropped the brunet and dashed out of the room.

…What was that?

Tsunayoshi watched him go.

"That was him trying to tell you to stop being so self-conscious around him. Hibari-san hates them, you know. Lies."

He's feeling very betrayed right now, were the words unspoken in their shared mind.

{KHR18KHR}

"Fuck it, damn it, screw it all to hell!" I threw a tonfa at the watch and watched with vague satisfaction as it embedded itself deep into the wall. My leg swept out to knock over a training dummy, and I punched and kicked at whatever I could see. My arms itched. My legs itched. My teeth itched.

Everything about me felt itchy.

I tasted blood. Must have bitten my lip earlier.

This lack of articulation was really annoying me. Really, really pissing me off. I destroyed a wall, but that was okay; I could hire someone to repair it for free. I demolished another training dummy. "Fucking damn it!"

How does one put into words how pissed off he feels? I yanked my tonfa out of the wall and swung at the air. The mass of energy swirling inside of me wanted out, wanted to be released, wanted to burn and destroy and kill. I wasn't some little girl. I wasn't some weak pansy that was too embarrassed to say anything.

"You stupid fucking curse!" Creakgroansmash. Down went a support beam. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! Fuck! What's wrong with me?!"

I had wanted to say the words earlier. They had hung on a precipice at the tip of my tongue, ready to jump off. I wanted to yell at Tsuna, to get him to trust me for fuck's sake—because what the hell was a trust that didn't include acceptance—and to punch in in the face. All in that order. I wanted to berate him, lecture him, tell him that I wouldn't leave him just because he was weak.

I'd invested myself in him. I'd made him my emotional crutch.

And after everything, I couldn't believe I had made him my weakness.

"You fucking idiot." SNAP. I felt my wrist give under all of this pressure, but the pain was negligible to the frustration pent up inside me. "You moron."

My flames curled around the injury—injuries.

I could barely breathe.

.

.

.

OMAKE

"What are you doing."

Tetsuya turned to me with a happy, blissful expression on his face. His eyes sparkled disturbingly. "What do you think?" He twirled around with his hands in the air, then struck a pose. "Do I look cool?

"You're wearing samurai getup. What are you doing."

"Kyo-saaaaann! It's Halloween! Get in the spirit! It's a night for terror and mayhem, for candy and self expression! Come on, Kyo-san, why don't you put on a costume too?"

"Realize the dissonance between those last words of yours, herbivore. I don't put on costumes."

"Wh-Whyyyy? It's fun! Come on! Look, I bet Tsuna-san is doing something for Halloween too! Hey, I'll call him over, and we can go explore the marketplace together!"

"That is crowding," I deadpanned. "I don't crowd, nor would I want to mix in with other crowds."

"B-But…!"

I rolled my eyes and retreated to my room. Ugh. I'd never liked Halloween anyway.

.

"Boo—OW! K-K-Ky-Kyouuuuu….~? Why—Why did you hit me?"

I blinked the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes before frowning. "Tsu-kun? What are you doing in my room?" …This was my room, right? I yawned and sat up, putting down my tonfa.

Across from me, sitting close enough to choke me, was Tsuna. Only he didn't look like the Tsuna that I knew. There was something off about him. Squinting in the darkness, I tilted my head. …But what?

"The hell are you supposed to be?"

Proudly puffing out his chest, the twelve-year-old grinned. "Uwan-san! I'm a ghost!"

And sure enough, foxfire lingered around him, most likely propelled by Tsunayoshi's control. A triangular headband sat on his forehead, and he stretched out his arms as if posing like a zombie. "Aren't I scary?" He chirped.

I stared at him for a bit longer, then flopped back onto my futon, taking him down with me. Ahh, warmth. "Not at all," I said with a yawn. "Hmm." My arm curled around his shoulders, and he radiated heat like a hot water bottle.

"Eh? Kyouya? What are you doing? Oi, Kyouya! Hey! Don't just fall asleep!"

Halloween was boring and impractical. But this time, I supposed, it wasn't that bad.

"Kyouya!"

.

.

.

A/N: Fuck this chapter. Like seriously. I'm so late it's not even funny.

And some angst. Because Kyouya's not super duper happy and able to say everything he wants. There's a lot of frustration stemming from not being able to say what you want when you could do so earlier.

Not much Wase this chapter. Some Ryohei (I didn't forget! There's more next chapter!). Tsuna took over, actually. Eh.

This was written in the last three days. Because life is a bitch.

Happy Halloween, guys. I went around as Basil, by the way, taking candy from strangers.

'Cause that's what I do.

Fuck it.

QUESTION: I really want to keep this GEN, but are there any pairings you want me to add fanservice for? The 1827 in this chapter tho. That was unintended.