Interlude – Hibari Kyouya

He was crossing the road when the small body crashed into him, a tiny brunet with wide, frightened eyes. Then there was the loud horn of a truck, the squealing of brakes.

After that, he was at the school building with vague memories of how he got there, his normal route etched into his brain, but nothing about when he got there.

Something in the back of his mind niggled incessantly that something was missing. He shouldn't be at school yet, he'd only left five minutes ago, but a cursory glance at his watch showed the truth and he was right on time.

Perhaps a case of déjà vu, or that his mind had wandered.

But, Hibari Kyouya, at fourteen years old and keen beyond his age, was not so sure.

The boy that was being bullied – pathetic, weak, herbivore, familiar? – had large eyes and a pale countenance and Hibari was so sure he'd seen him before, that he couldn't help but stare so intensely that his kouhai uncomfortably squirmed on the spot.

There was a fleck of blood on the boy's forehead, red and stark and but that was just a fleeting thought, there couldn't have been any blood, he would have seen.

He couldn't remember why he was by the roadside, let the frightened herbivore scurry off, tiny hands lifting to press against tiny wounds.

The bullies were not so lucky to escape.

Crowding was not tolerated.

If Hibari had been the type to broadcast his emotions, one could almost say he was concerned.

His mind was awhirl, thoughts spinning and twisting and memories contorting as he watched, from his perch in a tree, as the young teen pulled himself free of the concrete where he had not been five seconds before.

Between blinks the brunet had appeared, favouring his left arm and staring wistfully at the sky, unaware of the prefect not ten metres away.

Hibari was wracking his mind trying to remember the points from A to B that had led to the other student appearing as if out of thin air.

The amount of blood on the floor was enough to look as if a murder had taken place but Hibari soon found himself less than caring, the thoughts and worries slipping away like leaves snatched in the wind.

The boy – Tsunayoshi Sawada – was thirteen years old, a first year at Namimori Middle School, and was currently talking the baseball player down from attempted suicide.

His face was serene, calm, his entire body focused on the person next to him. His eyes though, his eyes, blazed with the colour of a setting sun and Hibari felt a deep, grudging respect settle down inside of him.

Those weren't the eyes of a herbivore, but of something much, much more.

Tsunayoshi Sawada fell from the rooftop and Hibari watched, dumbstruck for the first time in his life, as no one rushed to his help.

And, all of a sudden, he could see.

Like the floodgates had been opened, memories came rushing back.

A worried Tsuna, so young, sprinting the short distance between him and the road to push Hibari out of the way of an oncoming truck, his body hitting the front grille with a thick, wet splat, his body tumbling away, oh so broken and bloody.

Of Sawada being pushed to the floor viciously by teenagers older than him, stronger than him, from the high school.

A skull bouncing off of the road with a harsh push, the screws too dark to see before they broke skin and bone and brain matter.

Of Namimori Middle school students laughing as they came across his unconscious body, blind of the blood staining his hair and teasing him mercilessly until he awoke.

Tsuna rescuing a cat from the tree, the animal yowling and scratching and mauling until he fell from the highest branches with barely a peep, curling protectively around the creature and sacrificing his spine and life in too easy a movement as he bounced off of branches and the ground alike.

Slipping from the rooftop, his face accepting and so tired as he the side of his head met concrete and blood began to pool.

Hibari had a respect for Tsunayoshi Sawada that he couldn't name the cause of. It was a mix of his selflessness, his disregard of his own life to save others in stupid, stupid actions, of saving Yamamoto Takeshi's life instead of cowering away, and the something else that drove him to do that.

He took care not to treat him any different but decided to watch closely whenever he came across the curious brunet and did so for the next year, without incident.

It was a close thing, when he almost stayed behind to watch the aftermath of Tsuna being crushed by the fluorescent light, but it was far too soon to make an appearance of interest.

But then it was him causing the accident, hearing the stomach churning snap-crunch of vertebrae giving way, of bright life leaking free of eyes, of a limp body at the bottom of a staircase and, for the first time in years, Hibari felt disdain for himself.

From there it wasn't too hard to come to the conclusion that, while Tsunayoshi Sawada may not be exactly a herbivore, he still needed protection. Hibari, at the very least, knew how to do that.

And, to rectify his mistake, he would begin immediately.

Admittedly, his meeting with Yamamoto Takeshi, another self-proclaimed protector of Tsuna, could have gone better.

But Hibari refused to do anything but the best, or give anything less than his best.

He was going to keep this simplistic human from further harm.

If the other teen got in the way, he would be struck down without remorse. So long as he was helpful, Hibari would let him stay.

A very, very small part of him whispered, what the fuck when he got his first glimpse of the very cognizant baby called Reborn. The other, larger part of him, bristled at the encroachment of something dangerous on his territory.

At least guarding the frustrating enigma that was Tsunayoshi wouldn't be boring.

I thought I'd try something different, and introduce a little interlude! Not every character will get this because of the content needed.

Regardless, Hibari is a very difficult character to write. I like him, as a fan. As a writer, he's difficult.

Hopefully/maybe this'll clear some questions for some of you! Hope you like it!