Title: The Many Facets Of Kyouya

Summary: Short skits, mostly crack.

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Kyouya knew many words, even age four and a half. Kyouya was also a very violent four and a half year old boy. When he combined the two, the result was so crude and gruesome that people gave a sigh of relief when he finally landed upon "I'll bite you to death".

(They were even happier when he started using tonfa, because it was far less messy).

The three little piggies snorted and oinked as they flashed their switchblades, the metal glinting in the sun.

The first little piggy said "Look who we got 'ere. If it ain't Hibari Kyouya. Y'know, Kyouya, my li'l bro 'as been complainin' 'bout you."

The second piggy oinked, saying "Yeah, my bro mentioned ya, too."

The third little piggy agreed with his piggy friends and said "Well if two people are complainin', that means we gotta do somethin', huh?"

But the big, bad wolf huffed and he puffed and he said "I'm going to rip out your lungs and feed it to touch in the head. Then I'll rip out his and feed it to failed lobotomy over there."

And the three little pigs went 'weeoo weeoo weeoo' all the way home in the ambulance.

Or, at least that's how little Kyouya thinks the story went.

"S-so," the captain of the soccer club stutters and cringes under Hibari's stare.

Kusakabe, behind the disciplinary chairman, holds up a placard reading 'new equipment'. This happened often enough that after the fourth time Hibari threw one of them out of the window -the second storey window- they pleaded to Kusakabe for an extra push.

When in Hibari's presence, it was difficult to take your eyes off him, much less concentrate on the notes prepared, so Kusakabe took pity on them and agreed to stand behind Hibari and guide them when they start panicking.

"Oh!" the captain sighs in relief as his memorised speech comes to the forefront of his mind. "Uh, the soccer club needs new soccer balls because the ones we have are wearing out, and we also need-"

"Denied." Hibari is in a bad mood today.

"Bu-but we really do need it!" The soccer captain crushes the papers in his hand, straightens his back and explains, ignoring Kusakabe's frantic gestures. "Most of them are tearing and aren't keeping in air so we only have two to work with. We can't possibly win the next match, much less finals with such shoddy equipment."

Kusakabe drags a hand down his face and considers calling for an ambulance now rather than later.

The student just grins and gestures vaguely at the school oval outside the window. "Just think; if we had the equipment, we could afford to have better training and therefore better players. We might even get more recruits. Just a few small things and the trophy is practically ours! All the club needs is-"

A sudden pressure causes the captain to choke on his words, the temperature of the room falling. The other students slide their chairs out from under the table in preparation to run. Hibari glances up from his papers and raises an eyebrow.

The captain feels his legs numb, sending him crumpling into his chair.

"Come here," Hibari beckons him forward with a finger. The gesture summons shadows from the corners of the room and makes the students shake in dread. "So I can show you just how important intestines are to a human."

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Tsuna's head snaps up, catching the attention of Gokudera and Yamamoto.

"What's wrong, Juudaime?" Hayato asks in worry. "Is it anything bad?"

"No," Tsuna murmurs, but his thoughts are still clearly on whatever made him twitch. "I just thought I heard shattering glass." He shakes his head again, waving off their concern. "I must have imagined it, the ambulance siren is pretty loud."

"While we're on the subject." Yamamoto points a finger at the front gate. "Why do think there's an ambulance here?"

Gokudera scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Obviously because some moron hurt themselves."

Reborn hums, causing the three to turn to him. "Actually, it's probably because Kusakabe decide to call them earlier rather than later."

The infant stole a bite of Tsuna's food and disappeared again before they could ask him what that sentence meant.

Tsuna frowned at his empty bento. That was far more than a bite.

"Is it really necessary to have an insult competition?" Tsuna bemoans his ridiculous tutor, slumping further down in his chair. "And did you have to tie up Hibari-san? You know he's going to kill us."

"Of course there is!" Yamamoto answers happily from his spot on the opposite end of the round table. "Dino spilt Gokudera's drink so it only logical."

The Rain completely ignores that last part as the homicidal teen in question wriggles on his chair, scowling at everyone. The leather of Dino's whip digs into the Chairman's arms and torso, pinning him to the chair.

Tsuna just closes his eyes and pretends he has normal friends.

"Okay, almost ready." Yamamoto adjusts the bell in front of him. "The rules, if you would Reborn?"

The infant hops up onto Yamamoto's head with a Leon microphone and explains. "If you use a curse word as an insult you automatically lose." He hops down onto the table. "You have five seconds to start your insult, no more than three seconds of pause in between, and if you run out of time, Yamamoto will ring the bell and you also lose."

Leon shift to a flag and Reborn holds it high above his head. "Dino goes first. Are you ready?"

Dino and Gokudera nod, sitting straight up their chairs.

"Go!" The flag swished down.

"You mothers so fat," Dino begins. "When she moves the tide changes."

Tsuna can't help but join in when everyone boos Dino for the poor insult.

Gokudera grins. "If you tried just a little harder, you could be mentally deficient legally."

Everyone gasps dramatically, leaning away from the two.

"You know, I admire you so much. When I grow up I want to be known for hiding long, hard and cylindrical objects in my clothes, just like you," Dino mocks, looking innocent.

Chrome's high pitched giggles dominate the room, loud even over the laughter of everyone else. Gokudera can't speak because he's gaping in horror at the comparison Dino made about his dynamite.

Yamamoto rings the bell.

Tsuna catches sight of Hibari's expression and grimaces.

"Delusional, haemorrhaging herbivores," Hibari spits out, clawing at the wooden arms of the chair and digging gouges.

Dino smirks playfully. "Sorry Kyouya, but- oh look," Dino stands, pulls out the inside of his empty pockets and smirks. "I've ran out of shits to give." Dino grins wide, sitting down again and taking almost too much pleasure at Hibari's state.

"I'm going to grind you into a bloody paste if you don't release me," the Chairman snarls, tensing his body and making the leather strain.

"I know someone like you wouldn't understand, but if you hurt my handsome face, all the women who fawn over me would-" Dino is cut off by a sneering Hibari.

"Fawn? They'd thank me. I believe the term is 'beaten by the ugly stick'," Hibari growls.

Mukuro is wheezing with how hard he's laughing, and tears spring to Tsuna's eyes from his own hilarity.

"What- that-" Dino stutters at the unexpected comeback.

"I didn't quite catch that. Did you say 'please kick me in the face utill I get prettier'?" Hibari scoffs.

They roar with laughter, Ryohei falling out of his chair. Unfortunately, because of this, they don't see the binding snap.

CRACK

They jolt upright in shock, staring at a very pissed, very much free Hibari, who had just slammed his hands against the solid wood table and cracked it in half.

"When I'm done with you all, the first thing people describe you as will be 'perforated'."

Kyouya pulled out his tonfa and fell into a ready stance. His sparring partner, just a subordinate of the Vongola Cloud section, trembled as he readied his gun. Kyouya blinked as he remembered something, straightening up.

The Mafioso flinches.

"Wait." Kyouya holds both tonfa with one hand and searches his pocket with another. He pulls out a roll of duct tape and walks forward, handing it over to the man.

Confusion washes over the Vongola subordinate's expression instead of fear and Kyouya steps back to his original position.

"What's this for, Hibari-sama?" The Vongola turns the roll over and tries to look for any sign of it being more than just tape.

"It's to hold your innards in after I'm finished," Kyouya explains.

A thump indicates that yet another one has fainted.

"You see this?" Hibari's low, husky voice cuts off any noise from the previously rowdy room.

They turn to the man, who was sitting at the far end of the breakfast table, twirling a spoon around. The bags under his eyes are an obvious tell that he had arrived late at night – or in the morning, presumably from a mission if the half-filled report next to him was any indication. He had forgone a suit for a casual black yukata, his hair mussed and flat on one side from lying on a pillow.

"Next one that talks gets this through their skull."

Dino hums, looking around the room. "It's been a while, hasn't it? I think the last time we met up was around two months ago."

The man sitting opposite doesn't respond, petting the head of his bird.

"So, Kyouya, how about a spar?"

That gets a reaction.

The man looks up at Dino and blinks. Kyouya then looks down at his clothes. Having just come back from a mission with the bomb herbivore, he was understandably covered in blood.

The fact that he had just perfected 'the shrinking, inverted spiked ball of death' according to many of his test subjects, was also something that made the crowd stay far away from him.

Maybe the whip herbivore has simply forgotten that the last time they met up Dino's pet turtle swallowed Hibird, and that's why he wasn't running in the opposite direction.

Or maybe he liked the pain.

"Okay," Kyouya accepted calmly, standing. "I'm going to rip out your spine and beat you with it. Try not to enjoy it, you masochist."

A choked off sob comes from the information dealer as he desperately clutches at the arm holding him by the front of his shirt. Awkwardly bent backward over the windowsill of the fifty-sixth floor, he gasped as the silver eyed man tilted him out further.

His feet kicked uselessly in the air, searching for something to hook onto. The black haired man watches him with something akin to the interest you get when every other channel is boring, and the one you've picked is only mildly better.

"Okay, okay, no need to be rash now," the information dealer tries for a smile and gets pushed backward even more. "Wait! Just tell me what you want. I'll tell you anything. Free of charge, just for you," he laughs nervously again at his own joke.

The man tilts his head slightly.

"What do you want? I can't give you anything if I don't-"

"The Vongola Decimo's mother is currently in a safe house," the man interrupts calmly.

The informant holds back a sob as he remembers the deal. "Their names, I'll give you their nam-"

Wind rushes past as he falls backwards and he can't even shout before a sharp pain rocks through his shoulder to the rest of him and his sudden descent stops. He stifles a scream as the back haired man pulls him back up by his wrist.

His back hits the glass of the skyscraper and his dislocated shoulder makes its protest known, loudly, when the Vongola threads his arms under the informant's and presses his hands against the back of the information dealer's head in a lock.

Now all he could see was the massive drop to the concrete below, and feel the wind buffet against his dangling body.

"We have their names. We have their addresses. We have their corpses," the Vongola hums.

He whimpers at the casual tone. The Vongola wasn't even bothering to threaten him. His arms swing wildly, searching for the windowsill to grab on to, but his range of motion was stifled thanks to the hold he was in.

"What do you want then?" the information dealer gasps. "Please! I'll apologise, anything. I'll give you any information." His feet kick automatically, searching for a solid platform that won't be there. His fingers scrape the cold glass.

"I bet if I dropped you, the splatter range would be impressive."