Title: Reverends & Revenants

Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn! is not mine, you know.

Warnings: You are about to read a horror AU, so expect loads of OCs, mainly for killing purposes. That being said, this story may … uh, prove disturbing in more ways than one. I apologise in advance for little Hibari's OOC-ness in this chapter; given the circumstances he was in, it would be improper if he behaved as coolly as his older canon self.

Credits: Thank you so much Ereshkigaal & Francesca Kingston for beta reading & Piisa for the Italian translation.

Author's Notes: I use British English for this particular fanfic (hence, 'enquired' instead of 'inquired' and single quotation marks for standard speech).

A very happy birthday to you, dearest jusrecht; enjoy your present!

Kamagong (Diospyros blancoi) = a plant of the genus of ebony trees and persimmons; its fruit is known as Mabolo or Velvet Apple

Nikujaga = beef, potatoes and onion stewed in sweetened soy sauce, sometimes with additional carrots and shirataki noodles (thin, translucent Japanese noodles made from devil's tongue yam)

It had begun with a game, as harmless as any ostentatious display of bravado among seven-year-old boys could be. Who was to be blamed? His father? The boy would have been playing video games in his comfortable room in Tokyo right now had his father not been relocated as a supervisor to a nickel mine in a small Filipino countryside. His mother? Had she not urged him to make friends with the local kids, he would have probably been reading his Pet Encyclopaedia for the twentieth time that month, since the huge gap in facilities between a Japanese metropolis and a Filipino village left him with no better option for entertainment. The rural Pinoy children? Well, had they not been such braggarts, there would have never been any need to prove his courage through an escapade. Yet, in the end, it was him who had chosen that precise night to give in to their taunts.

The rumoured haunted mansion, with its imposing fence, disfigured gargoyle statues, broken chandeliers, ominous grandfather clocks and creaky doors, turned out to be an ordinary deserted dwelling that hosted many spider webs, but not a single loitering ghost. It was through the supposedly woodland shortcut on the way home that the thievish night snatched the younglings from the prospect of ever seeing their kith and kin again.

Beneath the moonless sky, where night had buried the earth in shades, where profound gloom had swallowed sounds from the nocturnal birds, the chase went on. Only two out of five boys remained, their sweat-dampened shirts clung to the skin of their backs—the skin that soon might no longer feel pain or comfort. No matter how ragged their breath had become, no matter how their stomachs protested too much running, their sore feet never slackened for a moment.

Twisted by the yawning wind, a high-pitched shrill voice traversed through the canopy of the trees. For a few seconds, the helpless squeal seemed to follow Hibari Kyouya, but then it faded. It would have given him goose bumps had he not heard similar hollers three times prior on that single night. A speck of hesitation flickered to life in the boy's mind, almost compelling him to turn back.

Then, another voice reverberated inside his head. It was a more familiar voice. His own. What can you do? Can you defeat those things—whatever they are—and save Danilo?

Not daring to take even the slightest glimpse of what befell his friend, Hibari spurred his feet forward. Now that the fourth of his companions had fallen too, it felt like the slim chance for his survival grew even slimmer; he was lost on an unknown territory, encased in infrangible darkness, with nobody to protect him. The Japanese boy almost glanced over his shoulder, but managed to refrain from doing so at the last moment; he didn't want to see his pursuers narrowing the distance between them. He, and the other three Filipino boys—when they had been alive some twenty minutes ago—had the appalling opportunity to witness their friend's disembowelment.

###

After their fruitless exploration of the abandoned mansion, Efren, the fattest of the five boys, claimed that he was hungry and his rumbling stomach verified his words.

'It'll be faster if we go back through the woods,' suggested Danilo, as he pointed towards the dense foliage to the left.

Hesitation clouded Efren's chubby face as his glimpsed the cluster of tall trees. He would rather not get punished by his parents if they were ever to find out. 'But my parents told me not to go there by night no matter what.'

Bayanai tapped Efren's shoulder in an assuring manner. 'So do my parents. But hey, what they don't know, they can't get angry about, right?'

Makisig, the tallest boy, agreed with Bayanai. 'Yeah, my dad's pretty scary when he gets angry. Mum will stop her cooking and my sis will stop talking on the phone whenever dad has both hands on his hips.'

Danilo supported him keenly. 'You know, I wouldn't want to be anywhere near my dad when he gets drunk and still has his belt. Last month, he broke eight plates and three cups with it.'

'Oh, that's nothing,' said Efren, his mood brightening considerably at the prospect for the second dinner that night, 'My mum can hold up a truck with one hand.'

'REALLY?' exclaimed the other three Filipino boys simultaneously. Even Hibari who had always been so reserved in conversation, cocked his head on Efren's account.

'What the…' Makisig swallowed. 'Just how strong is she?'

'Well, she's a traffic officer,' answered Efren with a smug grin, and the other three Pinoys booed him. Hibari resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

The native boys did not bother to ask Hibari's part; the Japanese boy's limited knowledge in Tagalog, Spanish and English often necessitated him to pause too long whilst searching for the correct term to verbalise. Not that this foreigner displayed any zeal in conversing, anyway.

They were walking among the thickness of bushes when Bayanai said he needed a pee and ran behind a large Kamagong tree.

While waiting, Makisig first noted a strange, unpleasant odour. 'Phooey, your fart smells like rotten fish, Bayanai!'

'I didn't fart,' replied the curly-haired boy from behind the tree.

'Then who did?'

Bayanai reappeared from behind the corpulent tree, walking towards his friends while still zipping his pants. 'Dunno, but the smell's pretty nasty over here too.'

After just two steps, Bayanai stopped. 'My tummy hurts.'

'Hey, hey, don't tell us you also need—' Makisig did not finished his sentence; his eyebrow raised in terror, his attention transfixed on Bayanai's stomach. It was moving. Bulging. Erupting.

Bayanai lasted long enough only to dilate his pupils in shock and agony as his liver came out of his body, grasped by a claw-like mottled hand. He could see his blood dribbling from five long, black nails that perforated his skin. Yet, there was no time to turn and face the attacker behind him; he had fallen, never to rise again, before he finished his first—and last—shriek.

Darkness, which came from the deeper shadows inside the woods, concealed most of the features of Bayanai's murderer, though not its adult-sized height. The other four boys scrammed, their little feet springing from the ground. Not even when Mr Uytengsu had caught them stealing the mangoes from his tree did the boys ever run this frantic. The thing, the creature, the horrendous monster, did not pursue them, but enjoyed its spoil, tearing Bayanai from limb to limb. Armed with its double rows of pointed teeth and its talon-like fingers, it gnawed its prey, the dead boy's bloody leg dangling from its mouth.

There were other ghoulish apparitions, however, who were eager for the remaining trophies. It was impossible to tell these beasts' exact number in this ailing light. Starting from Efren, who ran slowest, the fleeing children fell into the hunters' claws within only a few minutes' intervals—under a tree, on the woodland clearing or by a stream. When each boy's cry sliced through the benighted air, his surviving companions dared not turn back. Against such monsters, friendship was not treasured over safety.

One by one, the screams were no more.

###

Faster! Faster! Hibari willed himself. He had been straining his eyes for several minutes now. It was not easy to find his way under the melanite firmament, but Efren and Danilo had been the only ones who brought the flashlights. More sweat drenched Hibari's forehead and dripped from his chin, but his fright eclipsed his exhaustion. A lone prey against a pack of predators, how many more minutes—or seconds—could he survive?

Just as the little boy decided to dismiss this discomforting question, he could not get rid of his consciousness for the rustles in the undergrowth behind and the throaty breathing and flapping garments that kept following him. The knowledge chilled him despite the mugginess of tonight's weather. The wind sounded much like angry voices, berating him on why he had taken his friends' challenge to go through the woods even though their parents had strictly forbidden it. Hibari tried to focus his mind to the urgency of reaching home, where he had always been safe, where adults would be there to protect him…

But what lay ahead was the numerous gargantuan trees on the treacherous morass that separated him from his parents' house.

Speeding through the dark, Hibari continued to rake through the leaves on the forest floor with his slapdash steps. The foliage stirred under the touch of a groaning wind, and the gaunt shadows they cast appeared as monsters swaying their odd-shaped limbs to seize him. As he ducked to pass beneath a low-hanging tree branch, something snagged on his collar. His heart leapt into his throat as steely hooked nails curled, grasping the fabric into a fist. Something slimy and noisome dripped on his nape. His ears caught a snicker; it was the husky, unruly kind of closed cackles that haunted the core of his soul.

Pulling as hard as his seven-year-old arms could, Hibari tried to detach a twig from the tree branch. The monster's head was getting closer; its breath puffing hot against his nape. Never before had he smelt anything so noxious. From this distance, the foul stench of decay presaged his death, clutching the air around him and not letting go.

If only the damn twig would snap!

Something sharp grazed his skin. Hibari told himself that the pain came from the frictions of his fingers while plucking the twig off its bough. Even so, deep down, he knew that the sudden needle-prick pain came from his neck, where the abhorrent monster's teeth had pierced him.

The twig came off at last. Hibari held it tight with both hands and, swivelling his body, he thrust it with all his might, stabbing it into his pursuer's eye. Although trembling, he pushed with all his weight and did not stop until he heard a ripping sound as the stick penetrated the creature's membrane and tore the soft tissue inside. Fortunately for him, the abomination of a monster was bending while trying to catch him; otherwise, the child's height would have disallowed him to reach his opponent's vulnerable eye socket.

From this position, the beast's full features were visible, in spite of the dim light. Never had the child gazed upon so grotesque a visage as this living horror which was the busaw. The creature was gaunt to the point of emaciation, its desiccated skin pulled tautly over its bones and its jaundiced eyes pushed back deep into their sockets. Ruts and blemishes and deep-etched wrinkles had ravaged its entire body.

A yelp followed. And blood. Black blood that emitted a strong odour of both suppuration and decomposition. But what mattered to Hibari was the grip of the monster's skeletal claw loosening, which thus created an opportunity to wrench himself away from it.

Hands refusing to cease shivering from guilt and fright, the little boy advanced. He was thinking that he could leave behind the ghoulish form that casted him an accusatory look when circumstances forced him to halt. Dropping from the banyan trees ahead, three more monsters—three other fiendish creatures that bore the same ash-grey complexion of death—landed in front of him and bared their blackened teeth.

Hibari's eyes glazed with fear. In his mind, he screamed, mum, dad, help!

But his parents were not there for him.

The boy veered diagonally to the left and stumbled onwards with no idea where this direction was leading. Anywhere, anywhere would be fine, as long as it got him away from here, away from their terror. Darkness seemed to press against him, as if trying to climb inside his body. From behind. From below. From the sides. From everywhere.

Hibari thrashed through the undergrowth, relentless twigs flogging his passing figure, clinging to his clothes, refusing to let him move forward without obstacles. The little boy sped forward, never stopping and not even once looking back at the accursed woodland that made his friends pay their passage fee in blood. He pushed by leafy barriers, scrambled over rocks and tree roots, toiling through the duskiness until at last, at long last, he recognised a path hewn through the undergrowth.

There were gaps in the trees ahead, the lighter greys of open space. In the scanty light, his eyes made out the broad, somewhat rectangular silhouette of banana leaves with their overhanging tiered fruits wrapped in plastic bags. He could liken it to nothing else, though he could not recall ever having seen plants moving in the absence of the wind. He was getting closer to the residential settlement. He was going to be safe.

Unbeknownst to him, trees, particularly dense banana trees, were the favourite lurking place for mga busaw.

Panic, haste and pumping adrenaline complicated his arduous breathing. Behind him, the sound of several more footsteps joined the hunt. Adults' heavy strides were closing in. He heard the first pair of feet shuffling, followed by the second, then a third, and fourth, then … he was too terrified to register more. It was as though those taunting noises had kept on rubbing every spot of his exposed skin—his face, neck, hands and legs. He had to find refuge. Quickly.

The farther Hibari advanced, the more the predators' number seemed to grow. The little boy nearly cried out of desperation; the pain on his neck was prickling, beseeching him to rest. True, he had been selected as a sprinter to represent his class during sports events for two years in a row, but even such a healthy child had limits for physical endurance. His lungs had been burning for a while now and his leg muscles were at the verge of cramping. A sharp pain jolted through his ribs. Even as he wheezed, his heart felt frozen inside his chest. But he knew that if he stopped, if he tripped or paused for whatever reason, he would meet his end. The undead would not cease hunting him. Not until their hunger was sated.

Trickles of sweat dripped from the boy's brow, and would have stung his eye had he not shut its lid in time. He wiped the sweat. His nostrils flared; somewhere during his panting, he had even been breathing through his mouth. What made him deserve this battle of wills between pursuers and prey? How long must he continue to run? Why hadn't any of those monsters caught him? They were adult in vigour and copious in number; surely it would be more than feasible for them to overtake a child's speed.

Then, he remembered. Last week, he had seen a cat torturing a cockroach. Rather than eating the insect straight away, the cat flipped it bottom side up, and then, holding the smaller animal by one antenna, the conqueror wiggled its claws so that they hovered directly the captive's belly. The cockroach struggled vehemently, its tenuous wings flapping about and its spindly legs kicking empty air, but the minutes dragged on until the prey witnessed the lower half of its body disappearing into the feline maw.

Hibari's pupils dilated at the fresh jog of memory. His pursuers were not incapable of catching him; they did not want to—not yet. They were playing with their food.

The coal-black sombreness of the starless firmament blinded the boy from the trench ahead. His body rolled freely—too freely for comfort—and after a number of thuds, it landed at the bottom of the pit. For the first few seconds, his sensory nerves felt numb, but the agony gradually flooded over his adrenaline rush. The contact between his skin and the sandy flagstone slope had left him with several bruises that were now tormenting him like searing hot fires that erupted from several places of his body. A portion of his ribs, upper back and chest hurt. His left elbow had suffered inordinately from the crash against the mudsill. Nevertheless, none of the damages he had undergone was as excruciating as the pain in his right knee.

The trench, which sloped higher than an average grown-up man, was connected to a tunnel adit at its far end. Hibari inwardly cursed the existence of a trench in such a place, but come to think of it, his father had indeed mentioned that the nickel mine where he worked was located somewhere in the forest clearing. Wincing, the little boy bit his lip, preventing himself from giving forth a whimper—it took all his willpower to restrain the urge to cry. No matter how much his muscles screamed, his mouth was shut tight. The pleasure of watching him struggling in pain would notbelong to his enemy.

He needed to get up. He had to. But it was too agonising even just to move.

Through the blur of the rheum gathering in his eyes, Hibari perceived more than half a dozen monsters landing before him; each leapt from the rocky slope like a starving beast from the high ledge. In spite of his vision inadequacy, their malodour was unmistakable. The reek crept over the skin of his face, his neck; it crawled down his throat and coagulated foetidly in his lungs.

Hibari pressed his back harder against the acclivitous flagstone. While the insentient slope would not move, the child's heart pounded erratically and each breath brought him fresh jabs of pain. Raspy snarls resonated in the darkness a few steps in front of him. There was no way out. The predators stepped forward—a privilege for the victors of the game to claim their award. His chest rose and fell heavily as their tawdry footsteps were confining him in a circle.

The boy's quivering fingers fumbled, searching desperately for something he could use to defend himself—anything was better than nothing. He managed to find a rock and, as he lifted it, a new shock of horror permeated his pores. The lump he was holding was much lighter than a bowling ball-sized rock was supposed to be. It was hollow and graced with five holes of dissimilar size: Two for the eye sockets, one for the nose, one for the mouth and one for the neck. A skull. Here and there in the pit, the remains of what used to be humans lay tumbled; some were still in the form of partially flayed flesh, others had been reduced to bones. The overwhelming smell of decay from his pursuers had made him neglect another odour of similar nature.

Eyes wide with dread and repulsion, Hibari scuttled backward; he had just realised that the object inches away from his foot was none other than the part of a blood-spattered little finger. Not far from it, the veins from a severed limb dangled like the frayed wires from a cut off electrical cord. Thanks to the cover of dimness and the dispersal of distance, the details of many other entrails were hardly distinguishable. However, the foul reek of these corpses and of the infernal beasts amalgamated into a ghastly perfume in the night air.

How long have these monsters preyed on people, thought Hibari through unmitigated poltroonery. One of the reasons for his father's nomination as the mine's supervisor was because the locals had been unable to offer plausible explanations about how and why the labourers had gone missing. Shortly after his arrival at the Philippines, three weeks prior, his new schoolmates had teased him that he and his family would soon fall prey to the mga Busaw. According to them, mga busaw were people who rose from their graves, and, condemned to shades and dirt, they stole corpses for consumption, but when there were no more corpses available, they would mortally wound the living and feast upon the newly-made corpses. Back then, Hibari had overlooked the notion as a poor attempt to scare him; to them, he must have been nothing but a pampered city boy who had barely been able to speak Tagalog or Spanish. Only now did he discern how much truth resided in those local children's words.

Cold sweat broke down Hibari's temple; the circle of predators was getting smaller and smaller. Casting his revulsion aside, the little boy retrieved the skull he had previously dropped. He gripped the skull so hard that his knuckles went white; the skull's derelict eyes seemed to stare at him in dismay. The child swung it as hard as his injured body permitted him to. Height limitation made him incapable of aiming higher than his opponent's ribs; still, he strove to connect his hit with the nearest monster.

When a sharp crack split the air, Hibari knew his strategy had gone awry. The skull—his only weapon—shattered; his enemy was unharmed. The child's breath hitched once more. The busaw's mouth quirked upwards, only to slide open to a grin, revealing rows of thin, sharp teeth. Something slithered out of the foul-smelling cavern of the ghoul's mouth. So long was the tongue that, in this dimness of the night, Hibari almost mistook it for a big fat worm.

Move! The child's mind commanded his body; yet, his muscles, nerves and sinews disobeyed him. It was a wonder that until minutes ago, his legs had carried him for at least three quarters of a mile, but now he was rendered immobile. The underdeveloped tendons in his neck and face stood out, taut with dread. He began to shake, his teeth clattering together. The fetter of fear had bound his whole being.

The busaw knelt before the child. It sniffed around him, its squashed-up nose inhaling deeply, relishing the fresh scent of the living. Next, it bared its black, fang-like teeth and let its long tongue leisurely caress the boy's throat. Hibari clenched his jaw; discounting its slime, the tongue was no less rough than sandpaper. The other mga busaw moved closer. Some of them must have been the ones who had assaulted his friends; blood splattered their ashen integument and bits of freshly-flayed skin and pieces of garments hung from their nails. The rustles of their movements were accompanied by sinister hissing—hoarse and booming—that echoed through the flagstone trench. Keen as vultures swooping down at the sight of carrion, the hordes of them swarmed about the trench in full prospect of feasting upon the soon-to-be fallen child.

A long pair of sinewy, pernicious arms thrust forward, and Hibari instinctively shut his eyes. A part of him wanted to believe that if he couldn't see any of these fiends, none of them could see him either. His wishful thinking was dismissed the moment pain ripped through his flesh. The nearest busaw's claw-like fingers descended to the little boy's stomach, each effortlessly tore into the child's body. Pain jolted through him, electrifying his raw nerve endings. It was a different pain from the ones induced by his bruises, different sort of horror—at least, he knew he'd be able to walk in a few days' time after falling from a tree or a bicycle, but there was no guarantee he'd survive when the tip of the busaw's flagitious nails scraped so dangerously close to his bowels. As the fiend's long, black nails were flaying through his flesh, blood dripped from his wound in red threads, splotching his white shirt with dark stains.

Without preamble, the cumbersome atmosphere dropped. A breeze whooshed past them, mystifying and mild. A new scent was palpable in the air. It held the sharp tang of ozone, fresh as spring water and fulminant as the cold hand of death. Hibari felt it ripple through his body, its touch gentle and its grip absolute.

The next thing Hibari knew, five of the monster heads were sent flying. Their bodies were moving violently, like fish thrashing about in a net, but then, as fire consumed their decayed flesh, they gradually lost their speed and sense of direction and fell to black soil of earth. The remaining mga busaw turned to face the newly arrived being, for, unknown to Hibari, they had sensed the presence of furtive danger even before it had revealed itself.

Amidst the darkness that continued to swirl like a dense mist, strange flames danced. The golden radiance rippled up and down, twirling and springing, and soon became fast moving blurs. It was a dance of death that ended before the minute even lapsed away, a danse macabre that left the ghouls' destroyed bodies scattered like dried leaves in autumn. Yet, in that brief moment, the little boy witnessed something that haunted him for the rest of his tomorrows.

Only in the stillness that followed did Hibari realise the source of the flames. The trail of flames that flecked the mga busaw's disjointed bodies all led to one place. On the opposite side of the trench, someone—no, something that had parts of human's features—stood so still, almost like a statue, bar the billowing of its long overcoat that seemed out of place for Philippines' tropical climate. Its lower part consisted of four equine legs and hindquarter. Nestling in its hand was a whip of which serpentine body flaring with the golden flame that died down seconds later. Albeit the murky half-light of the sullen sky thwarted the child from studying the creature's age and gender, the pale, faint phosphorescence that radiated from the mysterious being was irrefutable. A pair of eyes glowed ember-like in the dark, peering down at the boy.

Hibari shuddered. The mga busaw, who had relentlessly hounded him, were immensely frightening, but this … this was beyond even those. Night was soundless, night was wakeless—just like the silent stare of the preternatural entity before him.

Pale with fear, the boy held his breath as the creature began to stride towards him. He would stand no chance against such an invincible being, but there was no way he would become the new monster's food without resistance. He ran sideways, and doing so reopened the gash in his knee. Fresh blood streamed down his shin, but his labour bore fruit. His feet stumbled upon a long object. A bone. A femur covered in dust and dry blood.

Heartbeat throbbing inside his head, Hibari clutched the femur with both hands. At first, he wielded like a sword, but then, noticing how blunt the ends of the bone were, he changed it into a baseball bat grip. Not even his hardest swing would knock out the formidable opponent—he knew that; his teeth wouldn't cease chattering and his body wouldn't stop quivering. Yet, he was also aware that a further attempt to escape would be futile. The pain on his right knee was aggravated from running just now. His blood loss had started to take effect, dizzying and enervating him. If he were to meet his end here, why shouldn't he die fighting?

The noctilucent creature came over to the child's side, its steps the sound of a horse's gallops.

Hibari charged, but his footing was too wobbly to support his impetuosity. After just seconds of tottering, his strength gave away. His makeshift weapon flew vertiginously a few steps ahead. All the exhaustion that had been building up inside him exploded at one precise moment. Immobility settled over him like a ponderous, irremovable blanket.

In the haze of his fatigue, Hibari wondered why his body did not fall onto the ground. Then, he felt a pair of hands suspending him from the back. The fingers were rougher and thicker than a busaw's, and unlike theirs, these nails were short and blunt.

Hibari turned his head sideways. The one who was holding him was a non-human creature, its complexion sable as the soil below and its height exceeding his own by a mere few centimetres. The little boy blinked and his eyes made out the shape of spectacles flanking the creature's hawk nose as well as the moustache underneath it. The most prominent feature of all, however, was the creature's wide, flabby ears.

Hibari blinked again. This creature reminded him too much on the goblins depicted in children's books. But did goblins really wear spectacles? And since when had it come? He could not even be sure if the tellurian goblin had been there all along or had just surfaced from underground. The boy tried to move his arm, to offer any kind of resistance, but felt too weak even to wiggle a finger. Numbness was creeping through him like a contagion, spreading from to each and every vein.

'Calm down. We will not eat you,' the goblin spoke in strangely-accented Tagalog, its voice deep and guttural, but benign.

We?

Hibari returned his gaze to the front again. The other creature—the one that had eradicated the mga busaw—was now standing right before him. Fearsome and tall, its looming figure blocked the view of the trench slope and the ebon empyrean from the child.

'Codesto è stato ferito, Romario.' ('This one has been injured, Romario.')

Hibari did not know what the creature was talking about, nor did he recognise the language. The sound bore some semblance to Spanish, but there were differences. Three weeks of staying in the Philippines did not facilitate him with Spanish proficiency in the first place. All he could tell was the creature's voice was a mellow baritone that seemingly had the power to hold one captive.

The goblin behind Hibari answered,'Credete che sia stato infettato, mio signore?' ('Do you think he is affected, my lord?')

The taller figure leaned forward to examine Hibari's ripped stomach more closely, then uttered, 'E' solo un graffio, ma la saliva del demonio potrebbe già aver preso possesso del suo sangue.' ('It's just a graze, but the fiend's spittle might have already entered his bloodstream.')

One of the goblin's hands tightened its grip on Hibari whereas the other drew a pistol from the holster on its hips.'Allora…' ('Then…')

Feeling the cold barrel against the side of his head, now Hibari could guess where the conversation was leading. In his mind, he screamed 'NO!' but his faltering courage and tired body disenabled him from bringing the word to the surface. A skylark whose wings had been clipped could not flee from the fangs of a viper.

Nonetheless, the equine man placed his hand on the pistol as a gesture of halting. 'Aspetta, un grande coraggio si trova in questo bambino. Vediamo ciò che il destino deciderà per lui.' ('Wait, a great courage lies within this little boy. Let's see what fate will decide for him.')

Despite the dogged grit of his teeth and the straining glare of his eyes, Hibari could not deny the weakening of his muscles; they relented into the relaxed mode. His will wavered, for his mind was sodden with somnolence. Darkness engulfed the little boy.

The last thing he saw before falling to unconsciousness was the incandescent pair of eyes against the backdrop of obsidian sky.

###

The first thing Hibari was aware of when he woke up was the comfortably cool air; it was nowhere near Philippines' hot and humid climate.

Above, loomed a frescoed ceiling framed by cornices of involute pattern. Its scene depicted a girl of entrancing pulchritude approaching a group of ailing people by a stream, all of which wore tunics. The billowing of the nymph's drapery was in harmony with the river flow, highlighting a sense of mystique within her. The combination of the pastel colours in the painting—especially the riparian nymph's creamy complexion, the aqua marine spring water and the moss-green shrubberies—was an ambience soothing to behold. (It was only a year later, when Hibari had received his mythology lesson could he identify this to be Nymph Juturna emerging from the bank of River Numicius to heal the sick.)

Hibari sat up. He had no recognition of this place. He was laid in a bed lined with white sheets. There were plenty more of such a bed in this room, arranged symmetrically row by row. Of these, only three beds beside his own were occupied. Both occupants must have been deep in slumber, since no sound of movements filled the room. Cupboards for medicinal storage purposes occupied the corner of the room, aligned to a writing desk. He had undoubtedly been lodged in some kind of infirmary, and an extravagant one at that. The far end of the room culminated at a door lavishly inlaid with ivory, akin to those featured in European movies.

When the boy inspected his body, he learnt that all of his wounds had been tended and his blood-covered shirt had been replaced. He was wondering who had nursed him when his ears caught a lively bustle from outside. He craned his neck at the large mullioned window next to his bed.

Hibari's initial thought was that this infirmary belonged to a theme park. Directly below the window was a spacious lawn that was the inner ward of a castle, surrounded by lofty flagstone walls. At one corner, stood an even loftier castle keep. A porch supported by a row of Tuscan columns connected the keep to a round tower. A panoramic garden bedecked with a fountain, wondrous topiary, virid plantation and statues of fabulous beasts from around the world—chimera, roc, naga, jackalope, and many more—abided outside the walls, concluding with a monorail as its outermost border. A lush forest stretched beyond these, subjecting the trees to the castle's majestic domination.

The boy's gaze darted back to the inner ward. There, a mauve-haired Caucasoid woman was demonstrating the basic techniques to free themselves from a monster's grasp to an audience of various ages and ethnicities. She swiped an ofuda paper vertically across her face, read some mantra which he couldn't hear from such a distance, and blew. The ground shook and cracked and erupted to reveal a gargantuan pallid green hand. At her summon, the hand seized her, crushing her slender frame. Some of the watchers screamed hysterically, but she yelled at them to stay calm. Afterwards, she read another mantra, which again Hibari could not hear, and the hand shrunk back into the earth. The pedagogy, however, did not end there. Next, she drew a pair of kamaand hurled them in the air. The sickles twirled in fast rotation until they slashed through the monster's fingers, and the chopped flesh dropped to the ground. The woman hopped off from the fingerless palm and landed lightly on the ground. She must have told the spectators to try next because they looked so fidgety.

What a strange taste for theme park entertainment!

Now Hibari was eager to see the different view that one of the windows on the opposite side of room might offer. It was then that he spotted a pen moving on its own, its tip forming letters in its wake. Unbidden, breath got caught in the little boy's throat. Chill nestled in. He blinked a few times, telling his inner self that either he mistook a totally different object for a moving pen or it really was a pen, but was attached to the ceiling via a very thin string rather than hovering in the air.

When the boy reopened his eyes, the pen was still in motion. However, after a closer look, he discovered the cause of the pen's movements: The medic in charge of the room. She was a woman of African origin, her curly hair tied in a bun. She sat facing the window on the opposite wall, her back facing him. There wouldn't have been anything unusual about her, had it not for hertransparency. Hibari rubbed his eyes, but he could still see the wooden desk on which the woman was writing a document through her white coat.

I'd better get out from here as soon as possible, thought Hibari as he tried to rise from the bed. Nevertheless, the din of his body shifting against the bedframe gave away to his awakened state.

The diaphanous woman turned her head and greeted him in Tagalog, 'Oh, you're awake.' She tugged her pen onto a clipboard and approached the boy, her feet never touching the ground.

Hibari hesitated. He thought of running away, but his soles were sort of rooted to the ground. Also, somehow he felt that this woman meant him no harm. There was no perilous aura around her, unlike the case with the mga busaw.

'Don't worry. I won't harm you. As a matter of fact, I cured you. Not all ghosts are evil—you'll learn that here.' She pulled at the bandage by his stomach, and he could tell the cuts were freshly healed. The woman promptly returned the bandage to its previous condition, and, upon noting how well he seemed to have recovered, her smile widened into a grin.

'How long have I been here?' asked the baffled child; he couldn't help being impressed by the foreigner's linguistic fluency. Several other questions were crowding his mind, but he considered this one most urgent.

'You've been sleeping for…' She consulted her watch. '… over thirty eight hours now, including the one-hour difference between the Philippines and Japan, that is.'

'Japan? I'm in Japan? Did my parents send me here?' Hibari spoke in Japanese this time. A new hope filled him, making his eyes sparkle.

There was a speck of surprise in female ghost's eyes when she discerned the boy's native tongue, but other, far greater, concerns weighed her gaze. She answered him in Japanese, again with an accent so closely resembling that of a native speaker, 'You have been bitten by a busaw; hence, you must be quarantined from ordinary humans for the sake of their safety. In other words, the world no longer acknowledges your existence.'

Hibari's pupils dilated and his voice was shaking as he spoke, 'You mean … I can never see mum and dad again … because I'll turn into one of those monsters?'

The ghost came closer and placed her hand on his cheek; the fingers were cold, but the touch was not unkind. 'It's too soon to tell if you'll become like those who hunted you. There are teeth mark and salivary traces in the cut on your neck. Bodily fluids is one way a person can be infected; however, since the transformation time varies between individuals, we'll have to wait and see what's going to happen within the next few nights.

There's also another way of converting humans into mga busaw, but it can only be accomplished by more veteran mga busaw. They transfigure their victims' flesh into pigs to feed the living human; those who consume these jinxed meats would turn into mga busaw themselves. But, rest assured, young man, even if you transform into a busaw, we'll give you antidotes to keep any monstrosity within the leash. Your schoolmates and the members of staff will become your new family; many of them are victims whose pasts were taken away by monsters. You will study to control your power so as not to attack the innocent, but fight against those who harm humans instead. You will also be educated with several languages to ease your future missions across the globe.'

The more the ghost's words sank in, the more burdened Hibari's mind became. If only he had obeyed his parents, if only he had not gone to explore the desolated mansion, if only the unhallowed, vicious creatures known as 'mga busaw' had not existed…

The ghost continued, 'Our institution is located amidst the desolation of the virgin forests of Hokkaido. Amulets were placed around the school so that neither human eye nor technology—binoculars, cameras, satellites, etc.—could detect its existence.'

Hibari reached for the back of his neck and ran his fingers upon the bandage. One mark that the undead left behind. One bite that left his soul perplexed in greater pain. One wound that destroyed his life.

The ghost blabbered on about the school's security system, but Hibari paid her no heed. He recalled the last fishing trip with his father and the delicious nikujaga that his mother cooked when they got home. He felt something stinging in his eyes and when he rubbed, the back of his hand became wet.

Desperately trying to divert his thought on any topics other than his parents, the boy enquired, 'What about the ones who brought me here?'

'Oh, Dino and Romario? The two of them brought you here because this is the closest Vongola branch from the Philippines. They left as soon as they explained the situation; you're so lucky to have survived from such a mass attack. Dino once came here as an exchange student. Anyway, now he works freelance, so he doesn't drop by on a regular basis. Romario is his loyal assistant.'

'Are they … centaur and goblin?'

'You are correct regarding Romario's identity, but not quite for Dino's. He's an "aguano". Like a centaur, an aguano has the torso of a human and the hindquarter of a horse, but while a centaur cannot transmogrify himself into a full man or a full stallion, an aguano can. "Aguani" are sprites that inhabit the mountainous land of northern Italy, the Austrian Alps and Slovenia. They are generally friendly, but it is advisable to ask their permission while entering their territory; otherwise, they may attack the trespasser. Even so, "aguane"—the female counterparts of aguani—are more widely known to humans.'

With that, the ghost glided away to one of the occupied beds. She studied the label of the infusion pouch next to the sleeping patient and began jotting down some notes on her clipboard.

Hibari fell silent. Now that his curiosity for his saviours' identity had been quenched, his mind returned to the severance of any ties with everyone he had known. He should be glad to stay alive, and yet … to what purpose had he been kept breathing, now that the future's dismal prospects had stowed him in its sable dungeon? He did not even get the chance to say goodbye to his parents. His stock of fish food was running low; what if Seisuke and Himeko—his pet goldfish—were starving? There were also some video games that he had not cleared yet.

And then, there was also Mrs Bautista, who frequently gave the neighbouring children her home-made cupcakes. And good old Mr Tiu, who performed impromptu pantomime for the children's amusement. And then Mr Navarro. And Mr de los Santos. And Mrs Dee. And his classmates. And…

Danilo, Makisig, Efren, Bayanai—not only had their future been robbed and ransacked by the malignant night, but their remnants also lay in the forest and would remain there still, forever unburied, together with the rest of the mga busaw's victims.

'Hey, wipe away that gloom from your face. If you practise diligently, you will be strong like Dino—so formidable that those spawns of hell will cower at the mere sound of your name,' the ghost, who had just returned from the other patient's bed, tried to cheer him up. She also looked like she was going to ruffle Hibari's hair, but he was glad that she didn't. Be it by human or ghost, he didn't like being touched affectionately.

'Speaking of which, I haven't asked your name yet. Mine's Bayo Akiloye. What's yours?'

'Hibari Kyouya,' answered the child as he shook the hand that the ghost had offered. Again, the child felt as though he had been touching a block of ice, but he did not flinch—he reckoned the least he could do was not to offend the one who had helped saving his life.

'Now then, don't think that it's impossible to reach his level, Kyouya-kun. Dino used to be a wimpy pipsqueak when he was small, but he always strove harder than his classmates. As a result, he graduated with summa cum laude honour from the central branch. Naturally, he's often in high demand; in fact, he had just finished a job when he noticed the busaw's presence in that woodland and found you,' continued Dr Akiloye. 'Well, that is to be expected; although he stayed here for a mere three months as an exchange student, Dino remains one of the best disciples Headmaster Reborn has ever had and a living example for exorcists, after all.'

The mention of Dino's accomplishments dissipated Hibari's glassy stare. The mga busaw had robbed him of reasons for living, but this so-called Dino gave him another. He would live, he would become successful and he would obtain Dino's acknowledgement. No, there would come a day when he surpassed this aguano. Notwithstanding its preoccupancy with his saviour, the child's mind registered another concern. Exorcists?

'What exactly is this place?' questioned Hibari, his eyes squinting.

The ghost grinned. 'Welcome to Namimori, a.k.a. the Vongola Academy of Exorcism, Asian Branch.'

TO BE CONTINUED

Preview for the next chapter:

'You're crowding around.'

The words were spoken in a flat tone, yet they bore the speaker's undisguised resentment. At the sound of his voice, the four girls who were chatting merrily stopped their giggles, colour draining from their faces. They separated immediately and each individual paced the remaining length of the corridor with hurried steps; the shortest of them had even mumbled a frantic apology before she scurried away towards the 'Academic Studies' section.

Her remorse was wasted, thoroughly ignored. The one who had reprimanded the girls continued walking towards the opposite direction, under the barrel vault of the corridor, the red 'prefect' band encircling the gakuran sleeve of his right arm swaying lightly with every step he made. No longer was Hibari Kyouya a hapless child, but a youth inured to fear. At sixteen, he had grown into an unspeakably ferocious and competent exorcist-in-training whose obduracy had done considerably to earn him dire obedience from his fellow students, but so little fondness from them.

Just to clear things up, 'mga busaw' is the plural form of 'busaw'.