Still on hiatus, but Rosh Hashanah yesterday had me pining for the fjords to drabble a bit.
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Title: Shoot from the Hip
Series/Characters: [Reborn!] Hibari Kyouya, Rokudo Mukuro
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only.
Word Count: 608
Notes: Gen-ish, though in my heart of hearts this is Hibari and Mukuro in a comfortably dysfunctional partnership. In one version, it ended with Mukuro enticing Hibari into non-homicide with promises of Chikusa's paella. Yeah, IDEK. Consider this a desperate CRY FOR HELP attempt at ficcing after being overworked at school/work. I might come back to this and add more to it at a later date? Highly unlikely, but there's always the off chance... Anyway, if the ending reads too much like a cop out, that's because it was. |D
Summary: Hibari loses his tonfas.
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Shoot from the Hip
by kasugai gummie
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One tonfa is dangling from the exposed coils of wires above, entangled and just a dozen hundred meters out of reach. The other is closer, but lodged so far into the eye-socket of a soldier that retrieving it will also take out a good chunk of the wall to which the body is pinned. The entire theatre is a macabre parody of velvet, gore, and glass, and all Hibari wants is for Tetsu to bring a ladder because the cut on his forehead is bleeding into his left eye and he's not sure if flinging a dismembered arm at the tangled mess would actually help dislodge the errant tonfa at this point.
He scowls at both tonfas; at neither in particular.
When Mukuro wanders over five minutes later, Hibari is still standing under the ruined light fixtures, gaze fixed peevishly upwards.
"You're looking more peaky than usual," Mukuro quips as he approached from the other end of the newly blood-soaked opera hall. "And here I thought something was off when you suddenly disappeared under that tasteless stage-prop."
Hibari spares him a dismissive once over. "You're one to talk; you look like a slaughterhouse victim."
"Oh this?" Mukuro says, picking at his once white shirt. "Don't worry, most of it's not even mine."
"Tch."
"Disappointing isn't it?" Mukuro says almost fondly. "Your face is bleeding, by the way."
"I hadn't noticed," Hibari deadpans.
Mukuro's smile doesn't falter even as he takes a moment to stab a weakly groaning mafioso through the neck. "Of course not," he agrees pleasantly. "I see you've misplaced your toys too. But the real question is, did you misplace them before or after you let the balcony fall on you?"
Hibari frowns at the farther of his two misplaced 'toys.' That was the problem, wasn't it? He wasn't sure exactly what happened in between crushing one opponent's wind-pipe and kicking a piece of rubble at the general direction of another's chest. His vision swims, possibly from the blood loss. Possibly from something else. And maybe if he flung Mukuro at the mess on the ceiling he could finally get his possessions back and go home.
But before he could demand that Mukuro submit himself to an experimental bout of catapulting, Mukuro catches his wrist.
"I think not," Mukuro smiles sweetly, viciously. "You were just thinking about throwing me at the ceiling weren't you?"
“No.”
“Oh, please. I know how you think now, so don't even try to deny it."
And that’s when Hibari decides he doesn't need his tonfa. Except for when he does. (He'd just installed those new lasers after all.) But he thinks that he could manage without them when biting Rokudo Mukuro to death. It takes him a moment to uncake his eyelashes of all the dried gore sticking them together and the first thing he does when he can see out of both eyes again is to communicate just exactly what evolutionary state of vegetarianism he thinks Mukuro is at.
"You know, all you have to do is ask nicely and I'd be more than happy to help you retrieve them."
"I don't trust you," Hibari says. Among other things.
"And you shouldn't," Mukuro agrees, "but the clean-up crew won't be here until another half-hour. Also, I know how to shoot a gun." He mimes shooting down the suspended tonfa with his free hand.
Hibari considers this. He considers the arm dealer’s dream patina of firearms scattered around the ground; the fact that throwing Mukuro into the ceiling was more likely to exacerbate the problem than to mitigate it.
"You will teach me," he says at last.
And that was that.
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FIN
Completed: October 01, 2011
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