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[FIC] Reborn!: Oh Brave New World
LMAO OH GOD THIS IS SO INCREDIBLY LATE
Happy belated birthday,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jusrecht! This was supposed to be up by May 21st but you know me and my laziness and my insane schedule so dsfhdfj. HAVE AT IT ANYWAY. /THROWS AT
Oh Brave New World
Characters/Pairing: Hibari, Dino, Maya, Masumi, Gokudera, Haru cameo. Masumi/Maya, and hints of Dino/Hibari
Rating: PG-13
Words: 4604
Summary: “If Hibari had grabbed his attention onstage, he was completely enraptured by him offstage.” A continuation of the Glass Mask AU fromjusrechts It's Just a Mental, Incidental, Sentimental Alibi and my own Mask of Butterfly.
Applause rang out like the low rumbling of thunder throughout the theatre. The actors were taking their final bow, but the cheers continued even when the curtain had fallen completely. Hibari was standing at the very edge of the stage, partially obscured by the heavy velvet curtains even when it was fully open, putting as much distance as he could between him and the crowd. His face was utterly blank.
The actors had broken out of their neat little rows and were now exchanging congratulations, slapping each other’s backs as if they had accomplished a herculean task even though they had done it many times before. Hibari’s lips twisted into a sneer and he turned away, irate.
Herbivores, all of them. Like members of a herd or even a colony, crowding together like ants and burying themselves within each other until there was no other form than a mass of bodies and voices talking over one another. A loud, irritating crowd.
Outside of the curtains, the audience’s voices were growing louder and louder. Perhaps it was a good sign, but Hibari only narrowed his eyes and started to stalk away back to his rooms.
“Hibari-kun!” Tap, tap, tap, the characteristic sounds of the main character’s heels clacking against the wooden flooring as their owner ran across the stage. Hibari stopped at the sound of his name, but did nothing else. Not even turning back.
Kitajima Maya ran up to him, her hair still in a massive disarray from her character’s climatic breakdown at the end of the play. But there was a brightness in her eyes and a shining sincerity in her smile that showed so clearly that this was Maya and not anyone else: not the character, not even the famous actress.
Hibari looked at her with his own eyes, flat and impassive and completely unlike the stormy grey ones of Martin Raye.
But Maya was unfazed. (She had seen worse glares and heard far harsher words than those Hibari had left unspoken.) She smiled at him, brightly, nearly chirping her next words, “You did very well today, Hibari-kun.” Remaining at her position, she did not try to come nearer, obviously giving Hibari the space he needed.
(Perhaps that was the reason why Hibari had stayed his steps. That, and her clear talent in acting; a field he would conquer and eventually preside over.)
In reply, Hibari merely nodded sharply. An acknowledgement of the praise before he started to walk away once more.
“Wait!” Maya called, loud enough to alert Hibari, yet quiet enough to not be piercing and call attention over to the two of them. As he turned to meet her eyes again, her smile widened. “There’s a celebration tonight for the completion of the show. I know you don’t like crowds, but please attend! It might be fun.”
Hibari’s lips flattened into a line, shoulders tensing as his deadly intent flared in the air at the invitation. Around him, people gasped and squeaked as they stumbled away from them both, staring at Hibari with expressions of apprehension or perhaps a little fear.
But Maya herself remained unmoved, her smile not even faltering. Hibari’s hands clenched at that, itching all of the sudden for the feel of cold, hard metal to hit something. But- it wasn’t worth the trouble. She was just another herbivore, after all – albeit a troublesome one.
He turned and walked away without a word.
“Thank you Hibari-kun!” Maya waved to his back even though she knew he wouldn’t see it. “I’ll see you there, then!”
***
“I’ll bite you to death.”
Hibari looked at the pathetic pile of unconscious blond foreigner at his feet, his lips curling up into a soft, vicious smirk. Then, he turned and left him there, ignoring all the stares and outraged cries directed his way. What a troublesome herbivore.
He had definitely deserved to be bitten to death like that.
Sparing a glance for Kitajima Maya, he vowed to never attend such a gathering again.
***
“Are you telling me that you can’t do it, Hibari?” Reborn’s smile was dark and full of hidden meanings. The wide brim of his fedora cast a shadow over his eyes, and he seemed more of the epitome of mystery as ever.
Hibari’s own smile was even darker, full of menace, but the effect was reduced dramatically by the childish roundness of his cheeks and tiny size of his body. Yet- the message was transmitted loud and clear: I’ll bite you to death for that.
But the promise – not a threat, because Hibari always delivered – didn’t even manage to shake Reborn as the man continued. “Of course, I understand why you are intimidated. You’re just child; to become the best actor in the world – to be good enough to actually be the Phantom Mask – is too heavy a task.”
“Intimidated?” Hibari’s voice had not broken yet, but his anger still carried over clearly – sharp and prickly. A testament of the strength of his will (and irritation). “I am not one of your herbivores, Director.”
His tonfa gleamed under the sunlight.
“Don’t taunt me like I’m a fool,” he continued, seemingly far more of an adult than a child despite his age. For a long moment, it seemed that he would refuse – on principle, if nothing else. But then- then, he exhaled, and his smile changed.
A challenge.
“The role is mine, Director.”
Reborn did not try to hide the smug smile that curved his lips. Hibari had, after all, always been so terribly predictable.
***
The dumb foreigner was being carted off somewhere.
Hibari could hear the commotion from outside the dressing room he had marked as his own. The herbivores were all congregating at the entrance to watch that man be drag off like a sack of potatoes, he presumed. Snorting to himself, Hibari’s lips flattened into a line.
They were crowding still. All of them seemed to particularly like doing that.
Then the door opened with barely a sound. It had used to creak; a long, drawn out sound that had caused Hibari to beat up one of the attendants so someone would hurry up and fix it. Now, it opened smooth as newly-spun silk.
(Violence did get one everywhere.)
“Such terrible manners that Hibari Kyouya had,” a voice rang out, slightly nasal but very much mocking. “Treating his first fan like that.”
Hibari did not even have to turn around to recognize Gokudera Hayato’s voice. He kept his back towards the door, ostensibly ignoring the other man- (boy, really – they were both still too young, too impulsive, to be truly men yet.) His shoulders were loose and relaxed, and his eyes impassive.
“Bastard,” Gokudera spat out, venom thick and heavy in his voice. Venomous like the poisonous smoke that was surrounding him like a cloud, stinking up the entirety of the dressing room.
There was a certain nonchalant malice to his voice as he continued, “He’s a very powerful man, you know? Head of some bigshot Italian company that is allied with Daito.”
Hibari turned around, eyes narrowed and there was the familiar sight of the silver tonfa being held tight in his hand.
“Smoking is not allowed here,” he intoned, ignoring every single word Gokudera had said as if the other boy had not spoken at all. There was a darkness in his eyes that conveyed his threat perfectly well, but Gokudera didn’t even flinch (he was far too used to it). He looked away and took a deliberate puff of his cigarette.
(It would ruin his voice one day.)
“Like hell it is,” he declared, with an undertone of fearlessness that only the defiant could reach.
It took Hibari only three steps to reach Gokudera, tonfa flashing silver under fluorescent lights as he pressed it against that pale throat tight enough to obstruct breath. But Gokudera only smirked wider, cigarette held between the fingers of the hand behind his back, still burning.
Smoke curled gently from it to reach the ceiling.
“You will be bitten to death for this transgression, Gokudera Hayato,” soft, soft, yet so sharp and harsh. Like the press of a silk-covered knife against skin.
Half-civilised.
“I’d like to see you try,” Gokudera threw right back, but there was a certain tremble in his words, caused more by the fact that he was slowly turning blue from the lack of oxygen rather than any real fear.
Hibari smiled. The smoke wafted up from Gokudera’s cigarette to tease against his nose. A beat, two- he drew back his tonfa. But Gokudera only grinned wider and more defiantly, reaching into his pockets.
“Um,” another voice, quiet and hopeful (how ridiculous) broke through the tension like the wind through storm clouds. “Ah, I hope I am not interrupting anything?”
A flash of golden hair and brown eyes. A too-bright smile. Hibari froze for a moment in disbelief – just enough for Gokudera to dart under and out of reach of his tonfa. He was flirting a little too much with danger, there. He put the cigarette between his lips, as if to take a breath-
It had burnt itself down to the filter.
And Hibari had a new target. He turned, eyes narrowing on the intruder’s figure, rage diverted.
“Herbivore,” he growled, full of danger and death. But the blond man seemed to not have noticed it.
He stepped even more into the room conveniently coming between Hibari and Gokudera, and smiled placating, raising his hands. A surrender, perhaps; or blocking his own throat.
“My name is Dino. Dino Cavallone,” he said, flashing another blindingly bright smile. “I just want to make sure that you’re alright now, Kyouya! And to apologize. I didn’t know you were-“
Hibari was tired of his voice. He drew his tonfa back deciding to hit this man with his full strength because he was just that annoying.
And all of the sudden the whip on ‘Dino Cavallone’s’ hip was no longer just another strange accessory used by foreigners. In a split second, the leather was stretched taut between tanned hands, blocking Hibari’s strike.
“The same trick doesn’t work on me twice, you know?” Dino said, smirking through his voice. Hibari glanced down; Dino’s feet were planted hip-width apart, shoulders still relaxed and Hibari’s murderous intent kicked up another notch.
“Now, Kyouya,” Dino continued, but there was no way that Hibari was listening to any of his prattling. His grip shifted on the tonfa caught in the whip as he brought out the other half of the pair, smashing the tip of it against Dino’s jaw.
Dino hissed, backing up as the tonfa grazed his jaw. He didn’t turn around, but there was a flash of silver at the edge of his sight that told him that the other boy – Gokudera, wasn’t it? – was still in the room. He almost moved over to the side to shield the boy from Hibari’s tonfa, but then he noticed that Romario was already there, and his smile tightened, darkening even as he laughed to himself quietly.
It seemed the red thread had led him to an utterly captivating boy. If Hibari had grabbed his attention onstage, he was completely enraptured by him offstage. He watched Hibari; watched the white knuckles around the tonfa; watched the shift of muscles on his shoulders and hips and thighs and moved.
Blocking a strike aimed at his ribs, he brought the whip forward to try to warn Hibari off. The boy was fast- and strong too, judging by the sharp, stinging pain that he could feel on his jaw. If he hadn’t moved back, his jaw would have been broken just like that.
But this was no deterrent at all. Dino’s smile was wide and genuine. His blood sang as he sidestepped Hibari’s blow, ducking under the upper-cut that was meant for his nose. He didn’t laugh; it would only irritate the boy further, and he had made a bad enough impression already, and he didn’t want to worsen it.
Not when he wanted Hibari to like him.
“Wao,” the actor said suddenly, jerking Dino out of his thoughts even as he blocked another strike. “You’re strong.”
A small smile bloomed on Dino’s lips at those words, and he opened his mouth as if to thank him. But Hibari continued before he could even think of the words to say.
“So stop running around like an herbivore,” Hibari snapped, his irritation increasing. He narrowed his eyes, speeding up suddenly, and Dino nearly tripped over himself to get away. But his smile didn’t falter.
Not even once.
“I can’t do that, Kyouya,” he replied, almost teasing. Hibari was so strange, Dino thought, a breed entirely unto himself because Dino had never met anyone who was so angry and violent and yet burnt so bright, drawing people to him like a moth to a flame. He was so incredibly intense that all eyes couldn’t help but be drawn towards him onstage. It was absolutely fascinating.
And Dino couldn’t look away.
“Fight me properly,” Hibari demanded, completely oblivious to the thoughts running in Dino’s mind. But he could tell that the older man was distracted, and that made him even more angry. His strikes came harder, faster, and it was all Dino could do to keep up with them. He didn’t hit back; not even once.
That was, after all, not what he was there for.
He was about to tell Hibari just that; to smile and tease because Hibari was just so terribly beautiful when he was angry as well. But he was interrupted again – this time by a very familiar voice.
“Enough, stupid Dino, Hibari.”
Dino didn’t even need to turn to recognize Reborn’s voice. There was, after all, only one person who called him by that particular ‘endearment’.
“Director,” Hibari greeted, curl as always, but there was a hint of respect that turned Dino’s smile wry. Trust Reborn to be able to keep a fierce and uncompromising predator (because, obviously, that was what Hibari was) in check. As a protégé, even.
It was curious, though, how Hibari addressed the other man as ‘Director’ rather than ‘Sensei’. It had been years, after all, since Reborn had director or even acted. His name, however, was as prominent as ever.
“Your behaviour is unbecoming of a CEO, Dino,” Reborn berated, and Dino laughed a little to himself, completely unfazed by the disdainful glare and the white, white lips. He was used to worse. At least Reborn hadn’t started pelting him with rocks – or anything else – to ‘test his problem-solving skills’ yet.
“Right, right,” he said, straightening his clothing and curling his whip back to its innocuous position on his belt. He headed to the door, but paused and turned back, meeting Hibari’s eyes with his own.
“I am really sorry about the roses, Kyouya,” and he sounded sincerely contrite about it as well, eyes darkened and partially hidden by the veil of his hair.
But Hibari wasn’t the type to forgive such grudges easily, it seemed. Dino smiled dryly to himself at the glare he received in return, but he wasn’t deterred. Not so easily.
He ducked out of the door before the boy could attack him for being irritating again.
***
Masumi was leaning against his car, an unlit cigarette held between his lips. An arm was wrapped around a dozing Maya’s waist as they waited for Dino to finish whatever business he had with that young Hibari Kyouya.
Let it not be said that the Daito Company was remiss with its hospitality. After all, it wasn’t every company that had the president himself waiting to send a guest back to his hotel.
Willing himself to not light the thing, Masumi chewed on the filter end of his cigarette thoughtfully.
Hibari Kyouya, the protégé of one of the – if not the – greatest of all contemporary Japanese directors and actors. A very promising young actor who wasn’t affiliated with any theatre company, and who was rumoured to be the next actor for the Phantom Mask.
Masumi smiled to himself: the Phantom Mask was to male actors what the Crimson Goddess was to actresses – the badge of honour that showed that to be the very best of the field. It was an extremely challenging role.
After all, the actor’s face would never be shown.
“Masumi!” the Daito President lifted his head, shelving his thoughts away to be pondered upon later on. His lips widened into his customary, business-like smile, which changed into something much more sincere when he spotted the other man.
(Strange, that he could label Dino Cavallone as someone he could think of as a friend when business associates he was acquainted with for years would never be granted that term.)
He nodded as the blond jogged up to him, “How did the meeting with Hibari-kun go, Dino?”
Beside him, Maya yawned slightly and opened her eyes, clearly interested in the answer also. She didn’t move out of Masumi’s arms like she would have a few years ago, however, and the thought of that just made Masumi’s smile widen a little further.
Dino’s smile was wide and bright and so full of joy that Masumi was, for a moment, completely taken aback. It was so odd, he thought, for the President of a multi-national cooperation, whose every moment was scrutinized, to be so open with his emotions. It was almost unheard of, really.
Then again, wearing t-shirt and jeans – and a whip – to a business conference was unheard of as well.
“Kyouya is a very captivating boy,” Dino said quietly, sounding as if he was still under that boy’s spell. He turned slightly to face Maya, “Kitajima-san, do you know anything about him?”
Maya straightened, stepping out of Masumi’s grasps as she shook the sleep out of her eyes. “No,” she said, frowning slightly. “No one knows anything about his background, or even how old he is. All we know is that he is Reborn-san’s protégé, and he is very talented.”
“I see,” Rather than being disappointed, Dino seemed to brighten even further at those words. Masumi wondered faintly where did all that energy come from.
“Well, I’ll just have to find out from him myself, then,” he shrugged, smiling a little wider. “Not immediately, though. I think he’s rather irritated at me.” He tapped on his bottom lip, “I will find another gift for him, in the meanwhile, since he dislikes flowers so.”
At those words, Masumi couldn’t help it: he threw his head back and laughed. Dino Cavallone was just one oddity after another – a truly strange man who was an entire league unto himself.
But then, that was the same that was said of Hibari Kyouya, wasn’t it?
Masumi hid a smile, turning to open the door of his car for Maya to step into. He supposed that this simply meant that Dino would be visiting Japan more often – and that, was definitely a boon to Masumi himself.
***
The next time Dino managed to see Hibari again, it was two months later. Urgent company matters had taken him from Japan the moment the legal matters between him and Daito’s Masumi were settled, and he was so busy since then that he could barely breathe. But how could he resist that flight right back to Japan when Masumi told him about Hibari’s new play?
Brave New World, an adaptation of Aldous Huxley’s infamous dystopian novel. It was ‘an ambitious project by the newly minted Vongola Theatre Group’, with Reborn as the director. Dino thumbed through the program, smiling to himself.
If it was Reborn, there was no project that could be named ‘ambitious’.
Hibari was to play John the Savage, wild and intense and fiercely passionate in his beliefs, yet a tragic figure because of his loneliness and isolation. It was an entirely different role than that of the quiet and introverted Martin Raye, and nearly opposite of the violent, uncaring, misanthropic Hibari Kyouya.
As Dino watched the first two acts, he realized that there was nothing of Hibari Kyouya in John – not in his movements, not in his voice, not even in the breathing. The boy standing up on stage was no longer Hibari, but John. And that, Dino knew from long experience in theatre was the hallmark of a great actor.
A boy who could wear a thousand masks. That was why, Dino knew, that Reborn had chosen him in particular.
The curtain rose for the last act.
***
“What about high art? What of beauty? What of love, of family?” John’s eyes are dark and intense, his fists clenched on his lap and face tilted up to look at Mustapha Mond as if he was seeking salvation. Every muscle in his body was tense, but he wasn’t shaking.
Not yet.
Standing in front of his large, oaken desk, Mustapha Mond was dark-haired and falsely kind.
“My dear John,” Mond said, sounding almost indulgent. He tapped his fingers against his thigh. “You misunderstand. Those things are grand, and noble, and heroic-”
“Yes!” John’s head snapped up, and he rose from his seat in one jerky motion. (So unlike Hibari’s grace when they had fought that first time, Dino thought, and chuckled.)
“But,” Mond held up a hand, perfectly well-meaning, perfectly cruel. “But we don’t need those things.
“Why would there be a need for a hero when there is no villain and no damsel to save? Why would humanity strive for ideals when they have everything they need and want right there in front of them?”
“Then what is the use of living?” John surged forward, eyes desperate and hands entreating. His words were stumbling over one another, but still – somehow – clear enough to be heard. “What is the use of having life without nobility and beauty and God?”
“Then we live for Ford’s sake, John,” Mond said, and there was no mockery in his eyes or lips. Only truth; cold and harsh truth. “For the sake of the state, and nothing else.”
***
Dino’s cigarette was left unattended, ash falling onto the floor as his eyes stayed riveted on the stage as John begged, and begged to be banished as well, together with his friends.
But no. He was to stay; the state needed him for an experiment.
***
“Strumpet!” John shrieked, half-naked and bleeding from self-inflicted wounds. He held a bunch of thorns in his hand, tied together roughly by wilting vines; a makeshift whip. “Strumpet! Don’t come any nearer!”
He lashed out at the mob who were surrounding him; who were slowly approaching him, mouths open and eyes wide, completely fascinated with John as if he was an exotic animal in a zoo.
“John,” Lenina – red-haired and green-eyed Lenina, with pneumatic skin – tried to step forward, her hands held out for him. “John, please...”
“Get away, you vile temptress!” John roared in retaliated, his eyes darting from side to side like a cornered dog. He was heaving for breath, and sweat covered every inch of his skin. He shook his head, sending his hair into complete disarray.
(The audience watched, silent and anticipating, with bated breath, sitting on the edge of their seats.
Dino was no different.)
“Get away! Get away from me!”
The mob was getting closer and closer, encroaching into John’s space. And John – eloquent John who spoke of art and beauty and living – could only shout and try to whip them. But with every lash of the whip, the crowd only became more excited, moving even closer, closer-
(Crowding.)
“Orgy porgy,” someone shouted, and the mob picked up the chant. “Orgy porgy! Orgy porgy!”
There was a flash, a second, shown of John’s wide, horrified eyes – lit by one of the spotlights – before the crowd pushed him down and pressed themselves against him, chanting.
“Orgy porgy!”
John’s hand – the only visible part of him left – let go of the makeshift whip. Then a second passed before-
Black.
***
Dino exhaled, teaching himself to breathe again even as he distractedly put out his cigarette. His eyes never left the stage.
***
The lights came back on to a crowded stage, populated by unconscious bodies. There was a deafening silence, before one body – dark-haired and scarred and bloodied – shook itself free of the rest, and rose.
John opened his eyes.
“Oh my god,” a whisper, a prayer. “Oh my god!”
He dropped onto his knees, and there was a sudden mad scrambling for his whip. He found it quickly enough, and cut his fingers open untangling the vine from the thorns. He snapped and pulled at the vine frenziedly, as if testing the leg.
His eyes were that of a cornered predator, wide and dark and fearful and- absolutely horrified.
John ran off the stage, and there was silence again. A long lull.
The audience waited, breathless.
Lenina woke, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She turned to look at the door where John had disappeared off.
“John?” her voice was thick with sleep, and she looked almost endearing like this-
Snap. The sharp, crisp sound of a broken neck.
And the lights go out.
***
There was a momentary silence: a beat, two, three. No one in the audience so much as breathed. No one seemed to believe it was over.
Then – the first strains of applause, slow and almost dazed.
Dino stood, unmindful of the stares on him, and clapped louder, harder, trying to convey his awe at the performance with only his two hands. For a long moment, he was the only one.
Then the theatre nearly shook with the sudden roar of applause and cheers.
Grinning to himself, Dino only clapped louder.
Kyouya, you were amazing. Absolutely amazing.
On his seat, a small, neatly-wrapped box sat, waiting.
***
“Um... Hibari-san?” Haru stood outside the dressing room specially reserved for their reticent, violent main actor, calling. After that first time, she knew better than to go in without permission – tonfas hurt. “There’s a package for you...”
Hibari stepped out of the room, dressed in his usual uniform-like white shirt and black pants that barely hid the white gauze covering his entire torso. He was also wearing a magnificently dark glare.
Haru squeaked slightly but did not budge from where she was standing. She merely stuck her hand out, giving over the mysterious little box – with its accompanying card – that a man with a moustache and a suit had given her.
There wasn’t the usual bouquet of flowers accompanying it.
Hibari took the box and the card, turned, and closed the door in her face.
Pouting to herself, Haru crossed her arms. How rude! Such an uncouth, scary guy, just like that Gokudera. Idiots, both of them.
She stormed away, back to the girls’ shared room to change. She hadn’t had the chance to praise Bianchi for her role as Lenina!
Damnit. And she had so wanted to see what was inside that little box too...
***
You were amazing as always. Your performance completely blew me away.
I hope this gift is more acceptable than the last, and I look forward to watching you again.
Love,
Your Admirer
Hibari stared at the message for a little while longer, completely uncomprehending. He shrugged to himself, and set the small box down with all the other (non-floral) gifts he had received. Then, he dropped back onto the couch, yawning and closing his eyes.
He didn’t see the blond herbivore at the performance today. A pity; he so wanted to bite that annoying man to death. A shot of annoyance ran through him, and his brow creased.
But he dismissed those thoughts quickly enough, and fell back to sleep.
End
/RUNS AWAY
Happy belated birthday,
jusrecht! This was supposed to be up by May 21st but you know me and my laziness and my insane schedule so dsfhdfj. HAVE AT IT ANYWAY. /THROWS ATOh Brave New World
Characters/Pairing: Hibari, Dino, Maya, Masumi, Gokudera, Haru cameo. Masumi/Maya, and hints of Dino/Hibari
Rating: PG-13
Words: 4604
Summary: “If Hibari had grabbed his attention onstage, he was completely enraptured by him offstage.” A continuation of the Glass Mask AU from
jusrechts It's Just a Mental, Incidental, Sentimental Alibi and my own Mask of Butterfly.Applause rang out like the low rumbling of thunder throughout the theatre. The actors were taking their final bow, but the cheers continued even when the curtain had fallen completely. Hibari was standing at the very edge of the stage, partially obscured by the heavy velvet curtains even when it was fully open, putting as much distance as he could between him and the crowd. His face was utterly blank.
The actors had broken out of their neat little rows and were now exchanging congratulations, slapping each other’s backs as if they had accomplished a herculean task even though they had done it many times before. Hibari’s lips twisted into a sneer and he turned away, irate.
Herbivores, all of them. Like members of a herd or even a colony, crowding together like ants and burying themselves within each other until there was no other form than a mass of bodies and voices talking over one another. A loud, irritating crowd.
Outside of the curtains, the audience’s voices were growing louder and louder. Perhaps it was a good sign, but Hibari only narrowed his eyes and started to stalk away back to his rooms.
“Hibari-kun!” Tap, tap, tap, the characteristic sounds of the main character’s heels clacking against the wooden flooring as their owner ran across the stage. Hibari stopped at the sound of his name, but did nothing else. Not even turning back.
Kitajima Maya ran up to him, her hair still in a massive disarray from her character’s climatic breakdown at the end of the play. But there was a brightness in her eyes and a shining sincerity in her smile that showed so clearly that this was Maya and not anyone else: not the character, not even the famous actress.
Hibari looked at her with his own eyes, flat and impassive and completely unlike the stormy grey ones of Martin Raye.
But Maya was unfazed. (She had seen worse glares and heard far harsher words than those Hibari had left unspoken.) She smiled at him, brightly, nearly chirping her next words, “You did very well today, Hibari-kun.” Remaining at her position, she did not try to come nearer, obviously giving Hibari the space he needed.
(Perhaps that was the reason why Hibari had stayed his steps. That, and her clear talent in acting; a field he would conquer and eventually preside over.)
In reply, Hibari merely nodded sharply. An acknowledgement of the praise before he started to walk away once more.
“Wait!” Maya called, loud enough to alert Hibari, yet quiet enough to not be piercing and call attention over to the two of them. As he turned to meet her eyes again, her smile widened. “There’s a celebration tonight for the completion of the show. I know you don’t like crowds, but please attend! It might be fun.”
Hibari’s lips flattened into a line, shoulders tensing as his deadly intent flared in the air at the invitation. Around him, people gasped and squeaked as they stumbled away from them both, staring at Hibari with expressions of apprehension or perhaps a little fear.
But Maya herself remained unmoved, her smile not even faltering. Hibari’s hands clenched at that, itching all of the sudden for the feel of cold, hard metal to hit something. But- it wasn’t worth the trouble. She was just another herbivore, after all – albeit a troublesome one.
He turned and walked away without a word.
“Thank you Hibari-kun!” Maya waved to his back even though she knew he wouldn’t see it. “I’ll see you there, then!”
***
“I’ll bite you to death.”
Hibari looked at the pathetic pile of unconscious blond foreigner at his feet, his lips curling up into a soft, vicious smirk. Then, he turned and left him there, ignoring all the stares and outraged cries directed his way. What a troublesome herbivore.
He had definitely deserved to be bitten to death like that.
Sparing a glance for Kitajima Maya, he vowed to never attend such a gathering again.
***
“Are you telling me that you can’t do it, Hibari?” Reborn’s smile was dark and full of hidden meanings. The wide brim of his fedora cast a shadow over his eyes, and he seemed more of the epitome of mystery as ever.
Hibari’s own smile was even darker, full of menace, but the effect was reduced dramatically by the childish roundness of his cheeks and tiny size of his body. Yet- the message was transmitted loud and clear: I’ll bite you to death for that.
But the promise – not a threat, because Hibari always delivered – didn’t even manage to shake Reborn as the man continued. “Of course, I understand why you are intimidated. You’re just child; to become the best actor in the world – to be good enough to actually be the Phantom Mask – is too heavy a task.”
“Intimidated?” Hibari’s voice had not broken yet, but his anger still carried over clearly – sharp and prickly. A testament of the strength of his will (and irritation). “I am not one of your herbivores, Director.”
His tonfa gleamed under the sunlight.
“Don’t taunt me like I’m a fool,” he continued, seemingly far more of an adult than a child despite his age. For a long moment, it seemed that he would refuse – on principle, if nothing else. But then- then, he exhaled, and his smile changed.
A challenge.
“The role is mine, Director.”
Reborn did not try to hide the smug smile that curved his lips. Hibari had, after all, always been so terribly predictable.
***
The dumb foreigner was being carted off somewhere.
Hibari could hear the commotion from outside the dressing room he had marked as his own. The herbivores were all congregating at the entrance to watch that man be drag off like a sack of potatoes, he presumed. Snorting to himself, Hibari’s lips flattened into a line.
They were crowding still. All of them seemed to particularly like doing that.
Then the door opened with barely a sound. It had used to creak; a long, drawn out sound that had caused Hibari to beat up one of the attendants so someone would hurry up and fix it. Now, it opened smooth as newly-spun silk.
(Violence did get one everywhere.)
“Such terrible manners that Hibari Kyouya had,” a voice rang out, slightly nasal but very much mocking. “Treating his first fan like that.”
Hibari did not even have to turn around to recognize Gokudera Hayato’s voice. He kept his back towards the door, ostensibly ignoring the other man- (boy, really – they were both still too young, too impulsive, to be truly men yet.) His shoulders were loose and relaxed, and his eyes impassive.
“Bastard,” Gokudera spat out, venom thick and heavy in his voice. Venomous like the poisonous smoke that was surrounding him like a cloud, stinking up the entirety of the dressing room.
There was a certain nonchalant malice to his voice as he continued, “He’s a very powerful man, you know? Head of some bigshot Italian company that is allied with Daito.”
Hibari turned around, eyes narrowed and there was the familiar sight of the silver tonfa being held tight in his hand.
“Smoking is not allowed here,” he intoned, ignoring every single word Gokudera had said as if the other boy had not spoken at all. There was a darkness in his eyes that conveyed his threat perfectly well, but Gokudera didn’t even flinch (he was far too used to it). He looked away and took a deliberate puff of his cigarette.
(It would ruin his voice one day.)
“Like hell it is,” he declared, with an undertone of fearlessness that only the defiant could reach.
It took Hibari only three steps to reach Gokudera, tonfa flashing silver under fluorescent lights as he pressed it against that pale throat tight enough to obstruct breath. But Gokudera only smirked wider, cigarette held between the fingers of the hand behind his back, still burning.
Smoke curled gently from it to reach the ceiling.
“You will be bitten to death for this transgression, Gokudera Hayato,” soft, soft, yet so sharp and harsh. Like the press of a silk-covered knife against skin.
Half-civilised.
“I’d like to see you try,” Gokudera threw right back, but there was a certain tremble in his words, caused more by the fact that he was slowly turning blue from the lack of oxygen rather than any real fear.
Hibari smiled. The smoke wafted up from Gokudera’s cigarette to tease against his nose. A beat, two- he drew back his tonfa. But Gokudera only grinned wider and more defiantly, reaching into his pockets.
“Um,” another voice, quiet and hopeful (how ridiculous) broke through the tension like the wind through storm clouds. “Ah, I hope I am not interrupting anything?”
A flash of golden hair and brown eyes. A too-bright smile. Hibari froze for a moment in disbelief – just enough for Gokudera to dart under and out of reach of his tonfa. He was flirting a little too much with danger, there. He put the cigarette between his lips, as if to take a breath-
It had burnt itself down to the filter.
And Hibari had a new target. He turned, eyes narrowing on the intruder’s figure, rage diverted.
“Herbivore,” he growled, full of danger and death. But the blond man seemed to not have noticed it.
He stepped even more into the room conveniently coming between Hibari and Gokudera, and smiled placating, raising his hands. A surrender, perhaps; or blocking his own throat.
“My name is Dino. Dino Cavallone,” he said, flashing another blindingly bright smile. “I just want to make sure that you’re alright now, Kyouya! And to apologize. I didn’t know you were-“
Hibari was tired of his voice. He drew his tonfa back deciding to hit this man with his full strength because he was just that annoying.
And all of the sudden the whip on ‘Dino Cavallone’s’ hip was no longer just another strange accessory used by foreigners. In a split second, the leather was stretched taut between tanned hands, blocking Hibari’s strike.
“The same trick doesn’t work on me twice, you know?” Dino said, smirking through his voice. Hibari glanced down; Dino’s feet were planted hip-width apart, shoulders still relaxed and Hibari’s murderous intent kicked up another notch.
“Now, Kyouya,” Dino continued, but there was no way that Hibari was listening to any of his prattling. His grip shifted on the tonfa caught in the whip as he brought out the other half of the pair, smashing the tip of it against Dino’s jaw.
Dino hissed, backing up as the tonfa grazed his jaw. He didn’t turn around, but there was a flash of silver at the edge of his sight that told him that the other boy – Gokudera, wasn’t it? – was still in the room. He almost moved over to the side to shield the boy from Hibari’s tonfa, but then he noticed that Romario was already there, and his smile tightened, darkening even as he laughed to himself quietly.
It seemed the red thread had led him to an utterly captivating boy. If Hibari had grabbed his attention onstage, he was completely enraptured by him offstage. He watched Hibari; watched the white knuckles around the tonfa; watched the shift of muscles on his shoulders and hips and thighs and moved.
Blocking a strike aimed at his ribs, he brought the whip forward to try to warn Hibari off. The boy was fast- and strong too, judging by the sharp, stinging pain that he could feel on his jaw. If he hadn’t moved back, his jaw would have been broken just like that.
But this was no deterrent at all. Dino’s smile was wide and genuine. His blood sang as he sidestepped Hibari’s blow, ducking under the upper-cut that was meant for his nose. He didn’t laugh; it would only irritate the boy further, and he had made a bad enough impression already, and he didn’t want to worsen it.
Not when he wanted Hibari to like him.
“Wao,” the actor said suddenly, jerking Dino out of his thoughts even as he blocked another strike. “You’re strong.”
A small smile bloomed on Dino’s lips at those words, and he opened his mouth as if to thank him. But Hibari continued before he could even think of the words to say.
“So stop running around like an herbivore,” Hibari snapped, his irritation increasing. He narrowed his eyes, speeding up suddenly, and Dino nearly tripped over himself to get away. But his smile didn’t falter.
Not even once.
“I can’t do that, Kyouya,” he replied, almost teasing. Hibari was so strange, Dino thought, a breed entirely unto himself because Dino had never met anyone who was so angry and violent and yet burnt so bright, drawing people to him like a moth to a flame. He was so incredibly intense that all eyes couldn’t help but be drawn towards him onstage. It was absolutely fascinating.
And Dino couldn’t look away.
“Fight me properly,” Hibari demanded, completely oblivious to the thoughts running in Dino’s mind. But he could tell that the older man was distracted, and that made him even more angry. His strikes came harder, faster, and it was all Dino could do to keep up with them. He didn’t hit back; not even once.
That was, after all, not what he was there for.
He was about to tell Hibari just that; to smile and tease because Hibari was just so terribly beautiful when he was angry as well. But he was interrupted again – this time by a very familiar voice.
“Enough, stupid Dino, Hibari.”
Dino didn’t even need to turn to recognize Reborn’s voice. There was, after all, only one person who called him by that particular ‘endearment’.
“Director,” Hibari greeted, curl as always, but there was a hint of respect that turned Dino’s smile wry. Trust Reborn to be able to keep a fierce and uncompromising predator (because, obviously, that was what Hibari was) in check. As a protégé, even.
It was curious, though, how Hibari addressed the other man as ‘Director’ rather than ‘Sensei’. It had been years, after all, since Reborn had director or even acted. His name, however, was as prominent as ever.
“Your behaviour is unbecoming of a CEO, Dino,” Reborn berated, and Dino laughed a little to himself, completely unfazed by the disdainful glare and the white, white lips. He was used to worse. At least Reborn hadn’t started pelting him with rocks – or anything else – to ‘test his problem-solving skills’ yet.
“Right, right,” he said, straightening his clothing and curling his whip back to its innocuous position on his belt. He headed to the door, but paused and turned back, meeting Hibari’s eyes with his own.
“I am really sorry about the roses, Kyouya,” and he sounded sincerely contrite about it as well, eyes darkened and partially hidden by the veil of his hair.
But Hibari wasn’t the type to forgive such grudges easily, it seemed. Dino smiled dryly to himself at the glare he received in return, but he wasn’t deterred. Not so easily.
He ducked out of the door before the boy could attack him for being irritating again.
***
Masumi was leaning against his car, an unlit cigarette held between his lips. An arm was wrapped around a dozing Maya’s waist as they waited for Dino to finish whatever business he had with that young Hibari Kyouya.
Let it not be said that the Daito Company was remiss with its hospitality. After all, it wasn’t every company that had the president himself waiting to send a guest back to his hotel.
Willing himself to not light the thing, Masumi chewed on the filter end of his cigarette thoughtfully.
Hibari Kyouya, the protégé of one of the – if not the – greatest of all contemporary Japanese directors and actors. A very promising young actor who wasn’t affiliated with any theatre company, and who was rumoured to be the next actor for the Phantom Mask.
Masumi smiled to himself: the Phantom Mask was to male actors what the Crimson Goddess was to actresses – the badge of honour that showed that to be the very best of the field. It was an extremely challenging role.
After all, the actor’s face would never be shown.
“Masumi!” the Daito President lifted his head, shelving his thoughts away to be pondered upon later on. His lips widened into his customary, business-like smile, which changed into something much more sincere when he spotted the other man.
(Strange, that he could label Dino Cavallone as someone he could think of as a friend when business associates he was acquainted with for years would never be granted that term.)
He nodded as the blond jogged up to him, “How did the meeting with Hibari-kun go, Dino?”
Beside him, Maya yawned slightly and opened her eyes, clearly interested in the answer also. She didn’t move out of Masumi’s arms like she would have a few years ago, however, and the thought of that just made Masumi’s smile widen a little further.
Dino’s smile was wide and bright and so full of joy that Masumi was, for a moment, completely taken aback. It was so odd, he thought, for the President of a multi-national cooperation, whose every moment was scrutinized, to be so open with his emotions. It was almost unheard of, really.
Then again, wearing t-shirt and jeans – and a whip – to a business conference was unheard of as well.
“Kyouya is a very captivating boy,” Dino said quietly, sounding as if he was still under that boy’s spell. He turned slightly to face Maya, “Kitajima-san, do you know anything about him?”
Maya straightened, stepping out of Masumi’s grasps as she shook the sleep out of her eyes. “No,” she said, frowning slightly. “No one knows anything about his background, or even how old he is. All we know is that he is Reborn-san’s protégé, and he is very talented.”
“I see,” Rather than being disappointed, Dino seemed to brighten even further at those words. Masumi wondered faintly where did all that energy come from.
“Well, I’ll just have to find out from him myself, then,” he shrugged, smiling a little wider. “Not immediately, though. I think he’s rather irritated at me.” He tapped on his bottom lip, “I will find another gift for him, in the meanwhile, since he dislikes flowers so.”
At those words, Masumi couldn’t help it: he threw his head back and laughed. Dino Cavallone was just one oddity after another – a truly strange man who was an entire league unto himself.
But then, that was the same that was said of Hibari Kyouya, wasn’t it?
Masumi hid a smile, turning to open the door of his car for Maya to step into. He supposed that this simply meant that Dino would be visiting Japan more often – and that, was definitely a boon to Masumi himself.
***
The next time Dino managed to see Hibari again, it was two months later. Urgent company matters had taken him from Japan the moment the legal matters between him and Daito’s Masumi were settled, and he was so busy since then that he could barely breathe. But how could he resist that flight right back to Japan when Masumi told him about Hibari’s new play?
Brave New World, an adaptation of Aldous Huxley’s infamous dystopian novel. It was ‘an ambitious project by the newly minted Vongola Theatre Group’, with Reborn as the director. Dino thumbed through the program, smiling to himself.
If it was Reborn, there was no project that could be named ‘ambitious’.
Hibari was to play John the Savage, wild and intense and fiercely passionate in his beliefs, yet a tragic figure because of his loneliness and isolation. It was an entirely different role than that of the quiet and introverted Martin Raye, and nearly opposite of the violent, uncaring, misanthropic Hibari Kyouya.
As Dino watched the first two acts, he realized that there was nothing of Hibari Kyouya in John – not in his movements, not in his voice, not even in the breathing. The boy standing up on stage was no longer Hibari, but John. And that, Dino knew from long experience in theatre was the hallmark of a great actor.
A boy who could wear a thousand masks. That was why, Dino knew, that Reborn had chosen him in particular.
The curtain rose for the last act.
***
“What about high art? What of beauty? What of love, of family?” John’s eyes are dark and intense, his fists clenched on his lap and face tilted up to look at Mustapha Mond as if he was seeking salvation. Every muscle in his body was tense, but he wasn’t shaking.
Not yet.
Standing in front of his large, oaken desk, Mustapha Mond was dark-haired and falsely kind.
“My dear John,” Mond said, sounding almost indulgent. He tapped his fingers against his thigh. “You misunderstand. Those things are grand, and noble, and heroic-”
“Yes!” John’s head snapped up, and he rose from his seat in one jerky motion. (So unlike Hibari’s grace when they had fought that first time, Dino thought, and chuckled.)
“But,” Mond held up a hand, perfectly well-meaning, perfectly cruel. “But we don’t need those things.
“Why would there be a need for a hero when there is no villain and no damsel to save? Why would humanity strive for ideals when they have everything they need and want right there in front of them?”
“Then what is the use of living?” John surged forward, eyes desperate and hands entreating. His words were stumbling over one another, but still – somehow – clear enough to be heard. “What is the use of having life without nobility and beauty and God?”
“Then we live for Ford’s sake, John,” Mond said, and there was no mockery in his eyes or lips. Only truth; cold and harsh truth. “For the sake of the state, and nothing else.”
***
Dino’s cigarette was left unattended, ash falling onto the floor as his eyes stayed riveted on the stage as John begged, and begged to be banished as well, together with his friends.
But no. He was to stay; the state needed him for an experiment.
***
“Strumpet!” John shrieked, half-naked and bleeding from self-inflicted wounds. He held a bunch of thorns in his hand, tied together roughly by wilting vines; a makeshift whip. “Strumpet! Don’t come any nearer!”
He lashed out at the mob who were surrounding him; who were slowly approaching him, mouths open and eyes wide, completely fascinated with John as if he was an exotic animal in a zoo.
“John,” Lenina – red-haired and green-eyed Lenina, with pneumatic skin – tried to step forward, her hands held out for him. “John, please...”
“Get away, you vile temptress!” John roared in retaliated, his eyes darting from side to side like a cornered dog. He was heaving for breath, and sweat covered every inch of his skin. He shook his head, sending his hair into complete disarray.
(The audience watched, silent and anticipating, with bated breath, sitting on the edge of their seats.
Dino was no different.)
“Get away! Get away from me!”
The mob was getting closer and closer, encroaching into John’s space. And John – eloquent John who spoke of art and beauty and living – could only shout and try to whip them. But with every lash of the whip, the crowd only became more excited, moving even closer, closer-
(Crowding.)
“Orgy porgy,” someone shouted, and the mob picked up the chant. “Orgy porgy! Orgy porgy!”
There was a flash, a second, shown of John’s wide, horrified eyes – lit by one of the spotlights – before the crowd pushed him down and pressed themselves against him, chanting.
“Orgy porgy!”
John’s hand – the only visible part of him left – let go of the makeshift whip. Then a second passed before-
Black.
***
Dino exhaled, teaching himself to breathe again even as he distractedly put out his cigarette. His eyes never left the stage.
***
The lights came back on to a crowded stage, populated by unconscious bodies. There was a deafening silence, before one body – dark-haired and scarred and bloodied – shook itself free of the rest, and rose.
John opened his eyes.
“Oh my god,” a whisper, a prayer. “Oh my god!”
He dropped onto his knees, and there was a sudden mad scrambling for his whip. He found it quickly enough, and cut his fingers open untangling the vine from the thorns. He snapped and pulled at the vine frenziedly, as if testing the leg.
His eyes were that of a cornered predator, wide and dark and fearful and- absolutely horrified.
John ran off the stage, and there was silence again. A long lull.
The audience waited, breathless.
Lenina woke, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She turned to look at the door where John had disappeared off.
“John?” her voice was thick with sleep, and she looked almost endearing like this-
Snap. The sharp, crisp sound of a broken neck.
And the lights go out.
***
There was a momentary silence: a beat, two, three. No one in the audience so much as breathed. No one seemed to believe it was over.
Then – the first strains of applause, slow and almost dazed.
Dino stood, unmindful of the stares on him, and clapped louder, harder, trying to convey his awe at the performance with only his two hands. For a long moment, he was the only one.
Then the theatre nearly shook with the sudden roar of applause and cheers.
Grinning to himself, Dino only clapped louder.
Kyouya, you were amazing. Absolutely amazing.
On his seat, a small, neatly-wrapped box sat, waiting.
***
“Um... Hibari-san?” Haru stood outside the dressing room specially reserved for their reticent, violent main actor, calling. After that first time, she knew better than to go in without permission – tonfas hurt. “There’s a package for you...”
Hibari stepped out of the room, dressed in his usual uniform-like white shirt and black pants that barely hid the white gauze covering his entire torso. He was also wearing a magnificently dark glare.
Haru squeaked slightly but did not budge from where she was standing. She merely stuck her hand out, giving over the mysterious little box – with its accompanying card – that a man with a moustache and a suit had given her.
There wasn’t the usual bouquet of flowers accompanying it.
Hibari took the box and the card, turned, and closed the door in her face.
Pouting to herself, Haru crossed her arms. How rude! Such an uncouth, scary guy, just like that Gokudera. Idiots, both of them.
She stormed away, back to the girls’ shared room to change. She hadn’t had the chance to praise Bianchi for her role as Lenina!
Damnit. And she had so wanted to see what was inside that little box too...
***
You were amazing as always. Your performance completely blew me away.
I hope this gift is more acceptable than the last, and I look forward to watching you again.
Love,
Your Admirer
Hibari stared at the message for a little while longer, completely uncomprehending. He shrugged to himself, and set the small box down with all the other (non-floral) gifts he had received. Then, he dropped back onto the couch, yawning and closing his eyes.
He didn’t see the blond herbivore at the performance today. A pity; he so wanted to bite that annoying man to death. A shot of annoyance ran through him, and his brow creased.
But he dismissed those thoughts quickly enough, and fell back to sleep.
End
/RUNS AWAY