So, as I have explained in the last chapter (which is now deleted along with the other chapters), I wanted to take a different approach on this story. I apologize if this is not to your liking.

By the way, the pairing is 2718, not 1827. Hooray for Uke!Hibari and Seme!Tsuna!

…

"This..." He peered down at his hands—translucent hands—and the town of Namimori peered back at him like a silent query on why his feet were not on the ground, a command to return to his bloodied and mangled body at the intersection.

"It can't..." His words died in his throat.

The intersection was where a truck was indented by the corner of a wall, shattered glass lay scattered about like the fallen petals of a tree in bloom, and crimson liquid splattered on the pavement from its sources: three bodies; two of which were dressed in black along with once pristine white shirts. The last body, the one responsible of it all, was a mere blub of red and blue...his face had been torn off by an oversized fragment of the windscreen.

He told himself this was impossible; his life couldn't end like this! That wasn't him. Kusakabe was not there either under all of that rubble, his body draped over him in a makeshift, futile shield. The S.I.C. was still in school finishing his patrol duties...right? Yes, he assured himself, he was at home, asleep, and having a dream. Nevertheless…

Two red armbands, each entirely opposite in direction of the other, embroidered in gold with the now-dead passion—"Discipline"—ripped to shreds, said otherwise.

His shoulders slumped, hands going to shield his face from the world. There was nothing he could do to reserve it—he couldn't rewind time so he would never have left his paperwork at school…and Kusakabe would not have set off to find him and to later attempt to shield him from the impact, only resulting in the death of both…so he could have decided to take the shorter route home…and the driver would not have been distracted with his fallen sunglasses and swerve the vehicle in the direction of him…He felt the emotion of helplessness overwhelm him.

But, if I am dead, where is Tetsu if he is dead as well?

"Kyou-san!"

He dropped his hands to his sides and swirled about in his location midair. His ribcage throbbed, reminding him of the injury that killed him. His metallic azure eyes hardened to their usual glare.

A trail of blood dripped lazily down the temple of the man before him, a strand of grass hanging from the corner of his mouth. It wasn't the blow to the head that killed him; it was the force of the vehicle cracking his vertebrae into multiple sections. He smiled, a sigh of relief relieving the stress in his brown eyes. "I finally found you." His gaze traveled up and down the shorter man before him, inspecting every detail—the fluffy, orderly disheveled, obsidian locks, the below average frame, and gentle features were deceiving, veiling the massive strength of lean muscles. He couldn't find anything from this angle. "Are you alright? The injuries sustained from the accident followed into the afterlife, it seems, along with what we usually carry with us. Ah, but my back for some odd reason has healed, and my armband is in tatters."

He turned around slowly, his ribcage protesting against the movement, and, replied in a near-mumble, "Tetsu, you speak too much." The armband clipped to his fluttering suit's coat barely hung by a dangling piece, the gold thread stained by a brownish red.

Kusakabe's eyes widened to considerably high levels. "K-Kyou-san, your back!" He stepped closer (though, that was rather unnecessary since there was no ground to walk on) and, in a delicacy he reserved for fragile objects, ran his fingers down Hibari's back; blood collected on his skin.

The slight flinch of Hibari did not go pass his perception.

"Leave it be. We're going." He stepped forth, head tilted down to admire the bird's-eye view of precious Namimori.

Kusakabe knew better than to oppose his leader's orders. Though, he secretly wondered if it was possible to die when one is already dead. Where are we headed to? The school?

Hibari's blood oozed down his back, down his legs, bubbled under his shoes, and then dropped like in ruby raindrops. It fell upon roofs, staining them with the essence of the Protector…Who will protect Nami now from those troublemaking herbivores?

They walked in silence for quarter till an hour until a voice from below drifted to them, breaking the ephemeral peace. It was loud enough for the entire town to hear. "Yo~! Why don't you come down here?! I can't fly 'cause I am not a ghost, you know?!"

Kusakabe, uncertain, looked from the person who seemed to be a mere spot of black on the center of a street to Hibari. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Umm…ah…Kyou-san, I think he is talking to us."

Hibari ignored him.

He sighed. "I'll go ask what he wants, so please wait here." He blurred into nothing, only to reappear before the source of the voice, a tall man (Kusakabe guessed him to be about the same age as Hibari) dressed in a standard uniform for 'kendo', a bamboo sword hanging by a string on one shoulder, with the broadest grin Kusakabe had ever seen; he was handsome, to say the least.

Hibari kept shuffling along, unwavering gaze set on Nami Middle.

The man's smile broadened, showing off pearly white teeth, a contrast to his greying skin. "Ya, I'm Yamamoto Takeshi, a 'walking dead' of sorts. I have a place I am staying at; I'm sure Tsuna won't mind if I bring you along. Do you mind?"

Kusakabe offered a gentle smile after taking a gander of the skylark above. "Kusakabe Tetsuya. I won't mind going if you don't mind me staying. I'm not sure if Kyou-san will…" As if to prove his point, he motioned towards Hibari with his eyes.

Yamamoto followed his gaze, smile leaving to be replaced with a curious glow in his hazel irises. "Oh" was all he could say, puzzled by the mere presence of this "Kyou-san" person—it felt like waves of power were spilling off him in such a casual manner, and, if one perused closer, the waves would be shown to have an interesting texture: violet puffs of clouds that reached out and in in every direction to devour anything and everything that stood in their way. He scratched the nape of his neck. "I'll give you the address so the both of you can come when you please."

He nodded his agreement, a piece of paper materializing in his hand from nowhere as Yamamoto spilled the details.

…

Liquid rose in his throat, and he lifted a hand to his mouth as coughs began to shake his frame mercilessly, eyes pinched closed. He curled further into himself, the coughs incessant, trying to find a comfortable position on the leather chair. 'Bad idea…!' His broken ribs poked further into his lungs, a keen flare of pain brewing as blood continued to seep through his ripped skin…Does the blood flow never halt? I should be drained entirely of blood by now.

"Hey, do you hear that?"

Hibari held his breath, suddenly feeling like an intruder in his room.

"Hear what?"

The door clicked open. "Sounds like coughing and wheezing. No one is supposed to be in the Chairman's room right now." Four figures stepped into the room.

Hibari could recognize those four men anywhere: Disciplinary Committee members, all modeled after the Vice Chairman. Nevertheless, that did not stop him from crawling off the chair and towards the window, a hand behind him in the ready to open it and exit the room.

"Uwa~h! Why is it so cold in here?" He rubbed his arms, breath ghosting before him.

The coughs were surfacing again. He struggled against them, making moisture collect at the corner of his eyes and turning his cheeks a pinkish hue, to no avail—they came out louder and harsher.

All jumped, eyes wide and lower lips beginning to quiver in fear as they took a few steps towards the only exit in the Reception Room.

"That-that's definitely not my imagination, right?"

His companions nodded their affirmation.

Bereft hesitation, he pivoted on his heels and dashed towards the door, screaming from the top of his lungs in a tone better suited for a girl.

The other three also deemed it best to abandon their manliness and turned tail.

This is certainly going to spread rumors.

"Tsu~na~!"

"Baseball Idiot, lower your voice! The Tenth should still be at school!" A man of silver hair and startling emerald irises stepped out from a room, a deep scowl marring his otherwise soft features. "What do you want?"

"Hayato, I think I found new additions to the clan." He rubbed his chin, finger tracing the vertical scar there. He laughed, lips curling upwards into their usual grin. "One of them may be to Reborn's liking."

Hayato raised a curious eyebrow. "Really?" One of the feline ears sported on the top of his head twitched as if picking up a distant sound. He turned towards the room he came from. "Oi, Stupid Cow, keep your dirty hands away from the icing!"

A child shrieked—something that sounded like "gupya"—and a clatter of metal-hitting-metal and scrambling feet resounded after.

Yamamoto nodded. "You should've seen his aura; it rivals Tsuna's in his youkai form."

His brows knitted closer, sharp teeth glinting under the dim lighting as he growled. "The fuck?"

…

Hibari heaved a heavy breath. Was so much energy supposed to be sapped out of him by coughing when he was clearly dead? He opted to hover in a lying position instead of touching anything with his back; he thought he would phase through stuff, but, as it seems, that was only a superstition of humans—he could touch, move, and feel everything and anyone. He simply could not be seen.

Lovely.

He huffed, a frown passing briefly over his features. When did I develop sarcasm?

"Kyou-san?"

He hummed his reply.

"Is it really alright to stay here?" Kusakabe peered at the droplets of blood on the floor, wondering if the living world could see that. "I mean…why not accept the offer?"

Hibari glanced at the other prefect from the corner of his eye, lips set into a thin line of boredom. Words were not needed to verbalize his opinion on that.

Kusakabe sighed. "I understand."

Silence passed for several minutes.

"Kyou-san?"

He hummed, eyes drifting shut.

"I'm sorry…"

His eyelids remained closed. "What for?"

His hands fisted around his pants, brows furrowing. "For not being able to guard your back properly, for not being able to do much for comfort but just be here, for not—"

"Tetsu, you talk too much."

That's as close as a "you're forgiven" I'll ever get. His lips curled upwards slightly. "Thank you."

Despairing wails and screams echoed down the hallway and into the Reception Room.

Kusakabe chuckled darkly. "It seems our deaths have finally been found out."

"So it does." Hibari turned so his mangled back faced Kusakabe. He drew lazy circles on the air. "Tetsu."

"Yes?"

"…Never mind."

Kusakabe tilted his head to the side, puzzled—Hibari was never one to begin a conversation to simply end it with a "never mind". That was considered that to be herbivorous, a crime that loud often lead to a tonfa-colliding-with-a-skull, "death by biting", in other words (the words of the tonfa-wielder, to be more precise). "If you say so."

"Accept the offer of that herbivore."

"E-excuse me?" He blinked. Say what?

Hibari tilted to the side his head to scowl at him. "I won't repeat myself. Don't stutter. It's herbivorous."

"Y-ye—" He cleared his throat. "Anon, sire." He straightened his legs, wincing slightly at the pricks that stabbed at them from the lack of blood-flow. I guess some human aspects still retain in this life. He swiveled about on his location, his body beginning to blur into space, as he said, "I'll be back before sundown."

"No. Until quarter till two."

His eyebrow twitched. That's in fifteen minutes!

A flare of violet ignited suddenly, pushing at its surroundings mercilessly, nearly making Kusakabe loose his balance. "Get to it, or I'll arrest you."

Kusakabe didn't need to be told twice before he was strangled to death by shackles (even if he was already dead) and a spiked tonfa was shoved down his throat.

…

He stood there awkwardly, gaze traveling all about, inspecting every nook and cranny, feet shuffling uncertainly. He never knew such an old, traditional mansion existed in Namimori; he knew everything and everyone that lived in this town like the palm of his hand. But this…

The mansion rose above the height by a story or two of the bamboo forest cluttering about the outside walls; the wind blew by, and the wood creaked as the bamboos' foliage made a gentle shaa, green fluttering to the ground and collecting with the rest of its fallen, browning partners. The mansion spread out wide and long by several hundred feet, yet it was eerily silent and dark—there was no croak of a frog or a twitter of a bird—like an ink painting drawn centuries ago.

I have five minutes left before I get bitten to death. He stepped closer, gulping down the lump forming in his throat, and raised a hand just as the gates swung inwards. A carriage—the kind thought to be extinct in this time—veiled by the whitest mist rose into the air, a heavy gust of wind accompanying it till it suddenly disappeared into nothing. He stared at the sky, where the carriage had disappeared without of trace of ever existing.

"Ah, Kusakabe Tetsuya from earlier, right?"

Kusakabe slowly twisted his body into the direction of the familiar voice, and, without a doubt, there was Yamamoto Takeshi, arms hidden in the sleeves of his dark blue yukata and folded over his chest.

"Welcome to the Vongola Mansion, where supernatural beings of all kinds are honored to live in under the direct rule of Vongola Decimo, who is more commonly known as Sawada Tsunayoshi; Tsuna, for short." For emphasis, he bent at the waist, arm swinging to the side as if presenting the structure crawling with spider webs.

But Kusakabe could definitely hear it now: the vivacious chatter and laughter accompanied by muffled music, the faint sound of a waterfall, and the chime of bells dancing with the breeze. He blinked, mesmerized by the soft burn of candles in floating lamps. Like a practiced reaction, he unconsciously bowed his head in return, mumbling a "sorry for the intrusion" as he stepped onto the stoned section of the ground.

Yamamoto chuckled, amused by the baffled reaction of the prefect. He beckoned Kusakabe to follow him inside, and, when Kusakabe finally snapped out of his trance and followed him, he asked, "So, did you manage to convince your friend?"

He nodded. "You could say that."

A soft hum echoed throughout the hallway. "This place…it is to my liking."

Startled, Yamamoto and Kusakabe pivoted on their heels.

He whistled, entranced—obsidian locks ordered in a disheveled manner framed a porcelain face to perfection; a tattoo resembling a skylark pocked from behind a white shirt, alluring one to simply stare at the man's collarbone. But what captured him most were the azure irises that swam in a hue of silver—they seemed to glow with a piercing glint. He was left speechless by the surreal beauty of the man.

"Kyou-san, I thought you would wait at Headquarters until I returned?"

Hibari shrugged casually, gaze never leaving from its inspection on the painted vase set as décor under a scroll inked in a deep orange with the kanji for "harmony". "The Committee was crowding, crying their herbivorous eyes out," he explained, voice laced with annoyance.

It was briefer than brief, but the flash of discomfort and sadness was not missed.

The S.I.C. smiled, eyes tinted with sadness. "I'm sure you'll get to bite them to death later, Kyou-san." He received a huff in reply.

Yamamoto sauntered over to Hibari and circled round and round as if admiring a masterpiece, arms still folded over his chest. He stopped in front of the skylark and extended his arm, his grin never leaving its respected place. "Yamamoto Takeshi. A pleasure to meet you."

Hibari peered at Yamamoto's hand, and Kusakabe had a fear the Head Prefect would decide to bite the hand off. Rather hesitantly, he grasped Yamamoto's hand with his own as he gave a curt nod of the head. "Hibari Kyouya. Be an herbivore, and I'll bite you to death."

Shaking his hand, Yamamoto laughed. What an amusing guy. "It's a deal, then."

Kusakabe wanted so badly to protest. He doesn't know what he is getting himself into! He'll die! He's going to die!

Hibari released his hand, a pleased smirk gracing his lips. "Keep it." He walked past Yamamoto, acting as though he knew the place like the back of his hand as he made his way down the corridor to his left. I smell meat.

Yamamoto jogged to catch up to him, dragging Kusakabe by the arm along with him. "Where are you headed to, Kyouya?"

Hibari stopped in his tracks, making Yamamoto nearly collide against him. Not glancing anywhere but in front of him, he threatened, venom spilling over every syllable, "Call me that again, and I'll arrest you till you can't recognize your face." He continued his casual gait.

He shivered—he has only known one person to promise death so certainly and so colloquially with such a fearsome aura before. The stutter in his speech was inevitable. "T-then, 'Hibari' is fine?" He deemed the silence an affirmation.

The bubbling of liquids and sprinkling heat of the frying of food resounded from behind the door Hibari decided to stop in front of. He slid the shoji to the side, declaring, "I'm taking over the kitchen. Get out."

Kusakabe could only sigh, hand sliding down the side of his face in a stressed manner. Kyou-san, please remember we are guest here and not tyrants…

Nevertheless, there was no arguing against anything Hibari deemed to be under his possession.

Yamamoto chuckled, following Hibari into the kitchen. "What an interesting friend you have, Tetsuya."

Instead of asking politely for the person (or was that a werecat of some sort?) stirring what looked to be a purple stew—which Kusakabe knew was not supposed to be colored in that hue—Hibari kicked the man on the side, making the latter stumble a few steps.

"What the fuck!"

Hibari narrowed his eyes at him. "Foul language will not be tolerated in the kitchen."

Yeah, Kusakabe knew that was step two of Hibari's domination of territory: the announcement of the edict.

"Why you—!" His emerald irises, annoyed to near rage, flashed towards Yamamoto. "Oi, Baseball Idiot, who is this bastard?!"

He laughed. "It's the guy I was talking about before; one of the guys that I met earlier, remember?" He glanced at the supposable stew cooking on low fire. "I think it's a better idea to let him do whatever he wants with the food, don't you think? It turned purple this time." He turned towards Kusakabe as if asking for his opinion on the matter.

"This time"? He shifted nervously when all eyes were set on him. "Ah…well…Kyou-san cooks well, so…umm…might as well let Kyou-san do as he pleases…?"

Gokudera clicked his tongue and opened his mouth to give his opinion on that matter.

"Maa, Hayato, let someone who knows how the chemistry of food works cook until Mamma returns from her anniversary trip with Papà."

Gokudera gave a growl in protest, yet he handed the spatula to Hibari in a none-too-gently way. "Fine."

A whiff of a satiated smile curled Hibari's lips. "Herbivores, out you go." He pulled his sleeves above his elbows. "Lunch will be done in forty minutes. Interrupt me, and you shall be arrested and deprived of food for the remainder of the week."

…

"Hibari would make a good wife! That was as good as Mamma's cooking."

"Ah, I don't think Kyou-san would appreciate being bound to anyone in any sort of way."

"Gyahaha! Lambo-san thinks Hibari should become my servant and bake grape cakes only for me!"

A nervous sweat glided down his temple as he turned to look in the direction of the child situated across from him. "Lambo-kun, please, for your safety, don't say that in front of Kyou-san…"

Lambo pound his fists against the table, and the plates clattered. "No, no, no! Hibari will become Lambo-san's minion!"

The brunette next to the child pursed her lips as she placed her hand on Lambo's forearm, effectively halting the ponding. "Lambo-chan, if you want cake, you have to ask nicely. Tsuna-san said so. Haru remembers, don't you?"

A vein on Gokudera's temple throbbed. "Stupid Cow, shut up already."

"Oh, Tetsuya, where did Hibari go?" Yamamoto raised a clump of rice held by ceramic chopsticks into his mouth.

Kusakabe paused his chopsticks, suddenly realizing something. "What time is it?"

"Ten after three," grumbled Gokudera as he shoved a piece of meat into his mouth. He swallowed bereft much chewing. "Why?"

"Kyou-san goes on patrol at this point of time." Old habits die hard, I guess?

Haru stopped herself from drinking. "Hahi? 'Patrol'?"

He nodded. "Yes, he patrols Namimori regularly, punishing those who 'disrupt the peace'."

"Eh? The police hire underage?" Yamamoto twirled a chopstick about between two fingers. "I thought Hibari was sixteen."

Kusakabe shook his head. "No, Kyou-san is not a policeman or sixteen. He is eighteen and Head Prefect of Nami Middle."

Gokudera nearly spit out the rice he was eating. "The hell? Isn't he too old for junior high?"

"Kyou-san doesn't attend classes there," explained Kusakabe. "Besides, he would have finished his college classes for Business this year had it not been for…" He looked away, feeling like he had spoken too much of private matters. He shook his head. "Never mind Kyou-san. Sawada Tsunayoshi, was it? When will he be returning?"

Gokudera immediately pipped up at the mention of Tsuna, feline ears perked high in attention. "The Tenth should be arri—"

"E-everyone!" The sliding doors were slammed to the sides, and a brunet stepped into the room, hazel irises glazed and rimmed with moisture. The puffy, autumnal locks upon his head bounced slightly as he moved briskly towards the table. "Hi-Hi—" He hiccupped, and the tears spilled down his roseate cheeks.

Almost automatically, Gokudera and Yamamoto stood, their arms wrapping around the brunet. "Who was the bastard that made you cry? I'll blow him to bits!"

"Hold a sec, Hayato; don't jump to conclusions yet." He leaned down as he swept a thumb under the brunet's eye, clearing away the tears. "What happened, Tsuna?"

Tsuna sniffed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Hi-Hibari-san…is dead. Ku-Kusakabe-san, too!"

Kusakabe cleared his throat, effectively capturing Tsuna's attention.

His mouth fell open. "E-eh? Kusakabe…san? But-but they said—"

He held his hand up. "I am dead. And so is Kyou-san."

"T-then, if you are here, Hibari-san is…?"

The soft stomp of lazy strides filled the silence that followed, a sense of dread befalling Tsuna. "Sawada Tsunayoshi, for the crime of being late to school—"

Tsuna kept his head firmly set in front of him, shoulders tensing. Please don't say; please don't say it!

"—I'll bite you to death."

…

Please excuse any and all mistakes in grammar/spelling.