Alright, I don't like this anymore. But whatever.

I might be writing some real 8018 (like, with 8018 and everything) soon enough. And then some 3318 for good measure.

This is pretty much my Hibari-muse taking out his frustration about what 8018 I have read. OOC!Hibari kills me. I have nothing against 8018, just the way I've seen Hibari portrayed in fics involving this pairing. So yeah. Here's some anti-8018 that turned out crappy and I'll probably take it down very soon.

It lasted almost three weeks, which was, to be perfectly honest, almost three weeks longer than Yamamoto had ever expected it to last. Hibari had always been this untouchable being, an immortal among men, ruling over Namimori with his metal tonfa, never to be interacted with by lesser beings who had not been preapproved by way of acceptance into the Disciplinary Committee. But Yamamoto, ever the brazen young man, had never been stopped in his previous attempts to get what he wanted. He wasn't the type to want much, but it eventually became clear that the tonfa-wielding badass was one of those few things he didn't want to have to go without.

Now, if only this particular wish wasn't so difficult to obtain.

He had made a plan, once he had decided to go for it, because after his first meeting with Hibari, it was pretty clear he couldn't just mindlessly intrude and hope to not come out bruised and bloodied. Of course, Yamamoto hadn't always been all that great at making plans; going with his gut had always been his first choice, and it had yet to fail him . . . mostly. So the so-called 'plan' he came up with had been exceedingly simple: Every day, he would try to visit Hibari wherever he happened to be in the school at the time. Foolproof.

The first day proved it to be anything but, seeing as he had been forced to avoid a blow to the head the moment he entered the Disciplinary Committee room. Rather than stick around to continue his attempt, he had left for that day. He couldn't risk a concussion with baseball season coming up. The second day, though, had been a little more successful; he'd made it all the way over to where Hibari was sitting on the roof before the violence had begun.

It was at this point that Yamamoto had started thinking that maybe his original method wasn't going to work. He needed a smarter way to approach the vicious anomaly of a Disciplinary Committee Leader. And where did he go when he needed smarts? Gokudera, of course.

"Hey, Gokudera, do you know how could I approach Hibari without getting beaten?"

"Che, that's easy. Don't."

In spite of this blatant failure to find a way to fail less, Yamamoto hadn't been disheartened. He figured that Hibari was the type of guy that would keep saying no, even when he wanted to say yes, just for the sake of his pride. So persistence had to be the only way. And after a few more days of failures, persistence really had paid off; he had sat down next to Hibari and started a conversation without getting his skull bashed in even once. Sure, Hibari had offered nothing more than glances and the occasional 'Hn' in return, but that wasn't important. The lack of violence was what really mattered.

And thus, it had started. Almost three whole weeks of Yamamoto tracking Hibari down daily in hopes of getting some sort of conversation out of him. Sometimes, he could even get a few words to be spoken, and other times, his own trail of conversation would trickle down to a content silence. The 'conversations' of these sorts would last varied lengths of time, from a few minutes to almost two hours, before Hibari forcibly ended them by leaving whatever area Yamamoto had found him in. Naturally, from the lengths of time to the few words he could receive from the previously inaccessible skylark, Yamamoto thought he was getting somewhere. But 'all good things must come to an end.' He just hadn't expected it to end before it even really began.

It had been just another day, at first. He'd found Hibari on the roof, which wasn't uncommon-they'd 'met' there a few times before-and offered a cheerful grin and a wave. He opened his mouth to give a standard greeting, but he was cut off by the cool metal of Hibari's tonfa being held against his throat. His smile fell, and all thoughts of what sort of mindless conversation he would attempt to start today disappeared from his head.

"What's the point of all this, Yamamoto Takeshi?"

Hibari's tone definitely wasn't good, but Yamamoto tried his best to maintain a peaceful air himself. He took a deep breath, let out a nervous chuckle, and admitted openly, "I guess I just really like you, Hibari."

At this point, Yamamoto was expecting to most definitely get bitten to death. Instead, he got the pleasant surprise of nothing more than a scoff, and lowered tonfa. At least, it was pleasant at first. Then Hibari's real reply came, in the form of words-more than Yamamoto had ever had spoken to him by this particular person.

"You're a moron." Well, that was one way to respond to a confession. "And you're blind."

"Ah, what do y-"

"You're the worst kind of herbivore; the kind who can't see he's a herbivore. Or maybe you just can't see a carnivore for what it is. Do you know what happens when a sheep wanders into a lion's den and says it wants to make nice?"

A pause in the speech-did he want a response? "It . . . gets its face reconfigured?" he tried with another nervous laugh, attempting to make light of the situation. Clearly that was the wrong move, because the expression on Hibari's face only darkened into a fierce glare.

"You're a herbivore. You're weak, and you couldn't fight your way out of a paper bag if you didn't have your 'friends' to support you. There isn't a chance in hell you could come anywhere close to even surviving a real fight against me. What makes you think I would have any interest in suffering any more time around you than absolutely necessary? What makes you so certain you of all people could have a chance of getting close to me, when I make it clear I don't want to be bothered by anyone who isn't worth my time?"

For once, he was at a loss for words.

After a short silence, Hibari concluded definitely, "Get out of my sight, herbivore. I'm getting sick of looking at you." And with that, he put his tonfa away and turned around to return to his usual spot on the roof. Yamamoto was given no choice but to do as he was told, or face the fatal consequences.

Gokudera and Tsuna had already gone on to Tsuna's house, with Yamamoto having promised to follow as soon as he'd taken care of something, leaving him to a walk by himself, alone with his thoughts.

By the time he walked in Tsuna's room, he'd done his best to put on his usual smile, and though Gokudera was none the wiser, Tsuna spotted something was wrong immediately, of course. "Eh, Yamamoto . . . Is everything alright?"

"A-ah . . . I'm fine, no worries! I just got a bit of an unexpected reality check . . . Didn't think it'd be that harsh, really . . ." Though he tried to remain vague, the other two had been around him the past few weeks, and knew exactly where he had gone after leaving their company.

Tsuna remained quiet, clearly not sure what to say, but Gokudera had no such problems. "Tch, I told you, didn't I? Can't deal with a guy like that and expect to come out on the other end in one piece. It's your fault for bothering him."

Immediately Tsuna jumped in with the expected response. "Ah, Gokudera! That's a little harsh, there's no need to-"

"No, no, don't worry about it," Yamamoto quickly cut him off, "I knew what I was getting into. Well, I thought I did. I shouldn't have let my guard down. I'm fine, really. Aren't we supposed to be studying?" He laughed easily, trying to make the others see that was alright, so they could just drop the subject.

Maybe the great Hibari Kyouya wasn't quite in the same league as him. Yamamoto was no stranger to the concept; as good as he was at baseball, he knew he could go down to a pro team, easy. And as good as he was at fighting, Hibari was in a whole different league. Confessing to him was like confessing to a pro baseball player and expecting to be taken seriously. Maybe he could try again . . . in a couple years.