[FIC] Reborn!: Learned Hopelessness
New icon! And I shouldn't be writing fic. I really shouldn't. But. Uh...
The title will make sense once you finished it.
Learned Hopelessness
Characters/Pairings: Hibari. Implied Dino/Hibari
Rating: R for violence
Words: 1023
Summary: “Hibari looks at the corpses in front of him, remnants of a decimated famiglia...” Hibari and dealing with the aftermath of Dino Cavallone.
There is blood on his hands.
Hibari looks down at his hands. There are tiny blood specks on the back, bright red stark against pale skin. He lifts his hands to his mouth, presses his tongue flat against the skin and licks. Salt and metal gather in his mouth, and he takes a moment to savour the taste.
Then, he looks up and meets the eyes of his prey. The man has blond hair, he notes, and a gun in his hand. Blue eyes (something wrong with that picture) are transfixed on him, his hand shaking against the trigger. Hibari’s lip curls.
Herbivore. He strikes.
Crack.
The bullet grazes his cheek and splits the skin. Heated blood curves around his cheekbones and drops to the floor, but he does not care. He looks at his tonfas, and notes that the silver-and-red of blood and metal has been tainted by grey, by white; bits of brains and bone shards. He drags a finger down the weapon, gathering the spoils of war on his fingertip and flicks it away from him.
Step, step, he moves up the stairs. There’s a sea of herbivores in front of him, armed with guns with wide eyes and trembling hands. Hibari smiles, shifts his feet, tightening his grip on his tonfas.
(Kyouya.)
He leaps into the fray, brow creasing at the voice. His weapons whirl around him like Kabuki fans, and he dances through his opponents, leaving only corpses behind. A bullet comes at him and he ducks, moving smoothly to kick out his leg, hard enough to break the ribs of the herbivore that dared to shoot him. The man falls, choking on his own blood but Hibari does not see it - he is already moving to the next one.
(Kyouya, I’m sorry.)
His next prey has blond hair; quite common in Italy, he remembers vaguely through the haze of blood. It does not matter as he smashes the herbivore’s face in, breaking his nose and his skull and sending bone shards into his brain. His other arm jerks backwards, crushing the throat of another one who thought that he could ambush him.
(Kyouya, have you missed me?)
There are stains on his shirt. Hibari frowns at the red (and grey, and black, and brown-) against what used to be pristine white. How disgusting, he spares a thought, and moves up another floor. His tonfas are slightly dented, and there is sharp pain at his side whenever he moves, but those are inconsequential.
(Kyouya, Kyouya, Kyouya...)
The next group of herbivores goes down without Hibari even seeing them. He is snarling, lips thin and pale, stretched apart to reveal white, white teeth that glint in the fluorescent light. Not even the haze of blood can quiet that annoying voice in his head. That means that Hibari just has to try even harder.
It’s almost a relief when, at the next floor, the herbivores are more competent. They crowd around their leader, the kingpin sitting in his fat armchair and shivering like a coward. Hibari slides a ring onto his middle finger (It’s an A-rank, so it’ll last for some time - not forever though, because you’re so powerful, Kyouya-) and spins his tonfas around him. Cloud flames burst into life, and he hears the gasps and murmurs around him like the ringing of Italian church bells, announcing death.
They come at him all at once, faceless prey wielding knives and guns. He dodges the bullets and the strikes, moving between them like he is the wind (Whoa, Kyouya, you’re even faster now), smashing heads and breaking ribs. Blood splatters on his face, bullets tear at his skin (Let’s see if you can avoid my whip entirely), and he’s sure that his clothes are nothing more than tatters now. He does not care.
He dances amongst the herbivores, killing each one as they try to strike at him. He does not see them falling, already moving to the next. All they are is a sea of black and red and blond and brown, sacks of muscles and blood and bones that he tears and spills and shatters with every move he makes. The smell of blood is heavy around him, death permeating every pore and it’s almost enough, almost-
(Hey, Kyouya, do you like me?)
The last herbivore falls, and Hibari remains standing, straight-backed but panting. The kingpin stands, legs shaking and gun aimed at Hibari’s head. Nothing but a useless herbivore; D-ranked men in Hibari’s own Foundation thrill him more. Still, all he needs to do is to pull the trigger. Hibari’s Cloud flames burn brighter as the disgusting man’s smile widens.
“I like you, Hibari Kyouya,” he says, oily and smug tones failing to cover up his fear. “How about you leave the Vongola and join-“
He never gets to finish that sentence, because Hibari chooses that moment to move. He leaps over the table and rams the tip of his right tonfa against the fat man’s stomach. His other tonfa comes up, and delivers a hard blow, cracking the skull. The kingpin gurgles, eyes rolling back in his head as he slides down his armchair.
Hibari unfolds himself and stands back up. He leans against the window, smearing blood against the glass, and closes his eyes.
His cell phone rings. He draws it out of his pocket, places it in his ear.
“Hibari-san,” Sawada Tsunayoshi’s voice is quiet and serious, laced with worry and Hibari growls softly at it. “Dino-san’s wedding went without a hitch. He’s on his way to his honeymoon now-“
Hibari doesn’t bother listening to the rest.
(Kyouya, I miss you. I’ll come to Japan again soon...
I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...
I love you, Kyouya. I love you so much.)
Lies.
Hibari looks at the corpses in front of him, remnants of a decimated famiglia who tried to destroy Dino Cavallone’s wedding day. He smiles, and lets the cell phone drop from his hand, watching it shatter against the polished (bloodied) marble floor.
He steps on it,
(Do you like it, Kyouya?)
grinds it beneath his feet.
And walks away.
End
The title will make sense once you finished it.
Learned Hopelessness
Characters/Pairings: Hibari. Implied Dino/Hibari
Rating: R for violence
Words: 1023
Summary: “Hibari looks at the corpses in front of him, remnants of a decimated famiglia...” Hibari and dealing with the aftermath of Dino Cavallone.
There is blood on his hands.
Hibari looks down at his hands. There are tiny blood specks on the back, bright red stark against pale skin. He lifts his hands to his mouth, presses his tongue flat against the skin and licks. Salt and metal gather in his mouth, and he takes a moment to savour the taste.
Then, he looks up and meets the eyes of his prey. The man has blond hair, he notes, and a gun in his hand. Blue eyes (something wrong with that picture) are transfixed on him, his hand shaking against the trigger. Hibari’s lip curls.
Herbivore. He strikes.
Crack.
The bullet grazes his cheek and splits the skin. Heated blood curves around his cheekbones and drops to the floor, but he does not care. He looks at his tonfas, and notes that the silver-and-red of blood and metal has been tainted by grey, by white; bits of brains and bone shards. He drags a finger down the weapon, gathering the spoils of war on his fingertip and flicks it away from him.
Step, step, he moves up the stairs. There’s a sea of herbivores in front of him, armed with guns with wide eyes and trembling hands. Hibari smiles, shifts his feet, tightening his grip on his tonfas.
(Kyouya.)
He leaps into the fray, brow creasing at the voice. His weapons whirl around him like Kabuki fans, and he dances through his opponents, leaving only corpses behind. A bullet comes at him and he ducks, moving smoothly to kick out his leg, hard enough to break the ribs of the herbivore that dared to shoot him. The man falls, choking on his own blood but Hibari does not see it - he is already moving to the next one.
(Kyouya, I’m sorry.)
His next prey has blond hair; quite common in Italy, he remembers vaguely through the haze of blood. It does not matter as he smashes the herbivore’s face in, breaking his nose and his skull and sending bone shards into his brain. His other arm jerks backwards, crushing the throat of another one who thought that he could ambush him.
(Kyouya, have you missed me?)
There are stains on his shirt. Hibari frowns at the red (and grey, and black, and brown-) against what used to be pristine white. How disgusting, he spares a thought, and moves up another floor. His tonfas are slightly dented, and there is sharp pain at his side whenever he moves, but those are inconsequential.
(Kyouya, Kyouya, Kyouya...)
The next group of herbivores goes down without Hibari even seeing them. He is snarling, lips thin and pale, stretched apart to reveal white, white teeth that glint in the fluorescent light. Not even the haze of blood can quiet that annoying voice in his head. That means that Hibari just has to try even harder.
It’s almost a relief when, at the next floor, the herbivores are more competent. They crowd around their leader, the kingpin sitting in his fat armchair and shivering like a coward. Hibari slides a ring onto his middle finger (It’s an A-rank, so it’ll last for some time - not forever though, because you’re so powerful, Kyouya-) and spins his tonfas around him. Cloud flames burst into life, and he hears the gasps and murmurs around him like the ringing of Italian church bells, announcing death.
They come at him all at once, faceless prey wielding knives and guns. He dodges the bullets and the strikes, moving between them like he is the wind (Whoa, Kyouya, you’re even faster now), smashing heads and breaking ribs. Blood splatters on his face, bullets tear at his skin (Let’s see if you can avoid my whip entirely), and he’s sure that his clothes are nothing more than tatters now. He does not care.
He dances amongst the herbivores, killing each one as they try to strike at him. He does not see them falling, already moving to the next. All they are is a sea of black and red and blond and brown, sacks of muscles and blood and bones that he tears and spills and shatters with every move he makes. The smell of blood is heavy around him, death permeating every pore and it’s almost enough, almost-
(Hey, Kyouya, do you like me?)
The last herbivore falls, and Hibari remains standing, straight-backed but panting. The kingpin stands, legs shaking and gun aimed at Hibari’s head. Nothing but a useless herbivore; D-ranked men in Hibari’s own Foundation thrill him more. Still, all he needs to do is to pull the trigger. Hibari’s Cloud flames burn brighter as the disgusting man’s smile widens.
“I like you, Hibari Kyouya,” he says, oily and smug tones failing to cover up his fear. “How about you leave the Vongola and join-“
He never gets to finish that sentence, because Hibari chooses that moment to move. He leaps over the table and rams the tip of his right tonfa against the fat man’s stomach. His other tonfa comes up, and delivers a hard blow, cracking the skull. The kingpin gurgles, eyes rolling back in his head as he slides down his armchair.
Hibari unfolds himself and stands back up. He leans against the window, smearing blood against the glass, and closes his eyes.
His cell phone rings. He draws it out of his pocket, places it in his ear.
“Hibari-san,” Sawada Tsunayoshi’s voice is quiet and serious, laced with worry and Hibari growls softly at it. “Dino-san’s wedding went without a hitch. He’s on his way to his honeymoon now-“
Hibari doesn’t bother listening to the rest.
(Kyouya, I miss you. I’ll come to Japan again soon...
I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...
I love you, Kyouya. I love you so much.)
Lies.
Hibari looks at the corpses in front of him, remnants of a decimated famiglia who tried to destroy Dino Cavallone’s wedding day. He smiles, and lets the cell phone drop from his hand, watching it shatter against the polished (bloodied) marble floor.
He steps on it,
(Do you like it, Kyouya?)
grinds it beneath his feet.
And walks away.
End