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Vongola Weekly

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Hibari Kyouya was raised and trained to be the perfect gentleman.

He was learned in every aspect of the arts (especially the art of war). He was educated in a very strict environment where discipline was the absolute basis of everything. He has perfected the (rather tedious but) beautiful and gentle art of the Japanese Tea ceremony. He has mastered every known and secret martial arts technique before he even turned six and he was very much articulate in more than seven languages.

And most importantly, he has been taught to confer women with great respect as it was the sign of a true gentleman. Although in his case, it was more of a requirement than anything, since his mother and grandmother were his very first teachers and hell forbid if he didn't give them respect. While rather underdeveloped, he still had some sense of self-preservation.

One of the lessons he has learned was that gentlemen, at any costs, do not hit women.

Hibari never really thought much about this particular lesson as he tended to avoid people (crowding, he called it) and people seemed to tend to avoid him.

He never really deemed it important.

Until now…

 

*

 

"Hahi! Rokudo Mukuro is on the cover of the latest Vongola Weekly!"

The noisy girl with the brown hair on the counter chirps exuberantly and Hibari has to refrain himself from hauling the nearest object at her. He had been grudgingly subjected to listening to her pointless blabbering for a good five minutes and Hibari still cannot comprehend as to what exactly was so bloody interesting about this Rokudo bastard she was excitedly talking about.

For all he cared to know, Rokudo Mukuro was just another one of those hedonistic bitch-fed models who rake in millions of cash for being a narcissist.

"Miura." Hibari called out coldly, pushing the plate of millefeuille towards the counter and effectively surprising and cutting off the girl from her superficially endless tirade.

"Hahi!" Hibari is quickly reminded why he doesn't like surprising the girl. It just makes her noisier, if that was even marginally possible. "Haru has almost forgotten about the order. Haru is very sorry about this Hibari-san!" Miura Haru exclaims as she throws him an apologetic look with those annoyingly shiny eyes of hers, before placing the plate on a tray oh-so carefully and zooming off to serve at some random table.

The dark-haired teenager sighed exasperatedly, leaning on the wall of the cramped kitchen he was forced to work in. He personally didn't like working part-time at the local café but at least the pay was good; definitely not good enough to pay his rent and college fees, but it was good enough to keep him and his pets away from starvation, for which he was the least bit grateful.

And Hibari would never admit it, but he was quite fond of cooking.

The only problem was that he just can't appear to get used to the incessant noise of the ostentatious females he has to work with.

"Um, Hibari-san," one of his female colleagues called and he looked up from his internal monologue begrudgingly. A thin eyebrow rose in recognition; the girl was called Sasagawa Kyoko and if his memory serves him right, she was the café owner's daughter and he was pretty sure that he saw her once or twice at the university.

"Were we bothering you earlier?"

Yes, yes you were, and I would appreciate it if you take your incessant yapping elsewhere, was what he would've liked to say but Hibari Kyouya was a gentleman so he settles instead for a non-committal, "No", before grabbing the whisk and the batter to start on the chocolate cake he was supposed to be baking.

"Oh, I see…" Kyoko mumbled off uncertainly. "I'll try to tell Haru-chan not to talk too loud next time as to not bother you" She added with a smile.

Hibari internally shook his head; he could never really understand females…

…And he has no plans to figure them out whatsoever; he has no apparent use for them in this current lifetime so—

"Hahi!"

"Haru-chan!"

There is the distinct clatter of china and it only takes Hibari a millisecond to charge out form the kitchen and see the scene unfold in front of him. He frowned. One of their few customers was currently holding the Miura girl roughly by the wrist and Hibari might not be an expert on the social norms (of the rest of the world that is) but he knows that that clearly counts as harassment.

A clear obstruction of justice (and sweet, bloody silence)

Hibari grinned, his bloodlust showing as he languidly strolled towards the customer. His every step bringingan aura of dread to the dumbstruck patron who had stopped harrying the girl the moment Hibari made his entrance from the kitchen. It's been a while since he used his tonfas and they were craving for some blood.

"I'll bite you to death"

*

 

"Take five, everyone!" The puberty-stricken voice of Sawada Tsunayoshi rang inside the studio as the young heir of the Vongola Company made his way awkwardly towards the couch where his advisor/ tutor was currently lounging at.

"You're late, Dame-Tsuna." The Italian model, most commonly known as Reborn drawled, his lilting Italian accent causing the female models nearby to swoon.

Tsuna sighed and rolled his eyes as the older man threw the models a sultry smile. "Luce-san is not going to be happy when she finds out you've been flirting with the other models again." He lightly berated the Italian who merely frowned at him, clearly unimpressed. "Of course I'm late, I had school and I don't even need to be here every day, Reborn."

"Yes you do, it was your grandfather's last wish before he died." The Italian man answered solemnly, feigning to make a sign of the cross.

"Grandpa Timoteo's not even dead! " Tsuna cried, "And besides, if he wanted someone to look after the business then Xanxus would've been a much better choice than me."

"Xanxus isn't the heir."

"So?" The young man snapped, sitting agitatedly at the couch. "He might as well be and you know that, Reborn." He mumbled, trailing off and the Italian model could only grin widely as he heard snippets of Tsuna's soliloquy of woe.

"I've heard that a thousand times, Dame-Tsuna." Reborn mocked, running a hand through his hair. "Don't think I haven't memorized your pathetic monologue of despair."

Tsuna grumbled something incoherent under his breath before mumbling out a response. "Fine, I got it."

"Good, because you have a lot of things to straighten out today," handing Tsuna a folder, the model got up and started to walk away.

"Ah, you're leaving early today?" Tsuna asked, looking at Reborn's retreating form.

"Uni has a ballet recital."

"Ah! That was today? Tell Uni-chan I said good luck." The Japanese said, remembering that despite appearances, Reborn was actually a very devoted family man with a beautiful wife, a lovely daughter, and a sweet, little granddaughter.

"I'll tell her that. Now start working, Dame-Tsuna."

Brown eyes widened exponentially as the future heir to the Vongola Company leafed through the numerous contents of the folder. "What the heck. I can't believe Gokudera-kun did that! Well actually I can but—"

A sardonic grin made its way to Reborn's lips as he listened to the beginnings of Tsuna's scandalized litany. He stopped as he reached the exit, leaning against the doorway lazily.

"Oh yeah, Dame-Tsuna, Mukuro needs a new assistant, pronto."

"Eh, why?"

"Chrome's leaving for Paris."

"I know that. But didn't we just hire a new assistant for him?"

"The new one made a crack about Mukuro's hair, so naturally, she got fired."

"Oh. Yeah. Naturally."

Tsuna groaned in misery.

Where in the world was he going to look for someone who can stand Mukuro?

 

*

 

Apparently, going on an all-out rampage to decapitate a sexual harasser will get you fired from your part-time job.

Hibari Kyouya mused absently as he sat uncaringly at the sidewalk outside the café he worked at, or rather, used to work at. A scowl made its way to his face as he remembered that he had utility bills and tuition fees to pay.

And now, he just lost a job.

That was the third time he'd been fired this month.

Well, shit.

The hell was he going to tell his bastard of an uncle?

"Dad! Please be reasonable, Hibari-san was just trying to protect us…you don't have to fire him!" Sasagawa Kyoko cried, and the dark-haired teen's eyes widened just a fraction as the girl tried to reason with her father.

"I am being reasonable, Kyoko! I just fired him instead of having him pay for all the damage!" The older man retorted to his daughter, casting a disdainful look at the broken glass and furniture lying around the shop. "I'm going to the police department to file a report on that sexual harasser. I want you and Haru to go straight home. Call Ryohei and let him know what happened, okay?"

"Dad, please!"

"Okay, Kyoko?" The man asked more firmly, looking at his daughter straight in the eyes.

The girl relented, nodding sadly. Mr. Sasagawa, appearing satisfied, clasped a hand on his daughter's shoulder and went out through the backroom, bypassing Haru who was coming out of the bathroom.

Well, that was interesting.

Hibari sighed for the umpteenth time, before slinging his bag over his shoulder. He still had an exam to study for and seeing as he just got fired; he also needed to find a new job and he obviously did not have the time to sit idly on the sidewalk. No matter how fitting it may have been considering his current predicament.

"I'm really, really sorry Hibari-san." Sasagawa's voice called out from behind him, and despite his better judgment, Hibari looked back.

"Haru is sorry too, it's her fault that Hibari-san got fired." Miura sobbed, tears filling her too-wide eyes and the dark-haired teenager inwardly winces at the pathetic look the girl was currently sporting. She opened her mouth to say something, probably something along the lines of 'sorry', but Hibari raised a hand.

"It's fine." He said through gritted teeth.

Hibari looked at the girls long-sufferingly, before digging through his pockets to get a pristine handkerchief and what appeared to be a calling card. He handed Miura the handkerchief, fighting the urge to wipe her tears himself because the girl truly looked like a kicked puppy.

"Sasagawa," Hibari handed her the calling card. "Call the number there. Tell them I told you to call, and they'll take care of the damage." He said quietly.

Kyoko's eyes widened considerably, staring at the (rather gaudy) calling card the older teen handed her. She looked back at Hibari and opened her mouth to protest. "But Hibari-san—"

"Just do it, Sasagawa." The dark-haired teen said with a hint of finality, already walking away from the two girls.

Kyoko frowned worriedly before looking at the calling card again. She plastered a pained smile and turned to Haru who was dabbing her eyes with Hibari's handkerchief. "Come on, Haru-chan, we have a phone call to make."

Haru sniffled. "I hope Hibari-san will be okay."

"I hope so too, Haru-chan." The auburn-haired girl echoed, staring at their former co-worker's retreating back. "I hope so too."

 

*

 

"Let go!"

The moment the tip of his shoe entered the obscure alleyway, Hibari knew it had been a bad idea to take the shortcut back to his apartment. He momentarily considered turning around and taking another route but scoffed at the thought. Even though he wasn't the Disciplinary Chairman anymore, it was still his duty to uphold the peace in Namimori as one of its law-abiding citizens.

And Hibari was nothing if not a law-abiding citizen.

"A feisty one, aren't you missy?"

"Let me go!"

Hibari casually strolled deeper into the alley, relishing in the cold feel of his tonfas. From the sound of things, a young woman was being mugged by some filthy herbivore. How typical. He sauntered over to the clearing where the mugging was taking place and impassively assessed the situation.

A large man, probably three times Hibari's size was currently assaulting a petite, violet-haired woman, who was, Hibari noted with a single raised eyebrow, putting up quite a fight. He dropped his bag on the cleanest patch of pavement in the alley, catching the attention of the woman who looked at him with a panicked and pleading look on her face, before taking out his tonfas and turning to finally address the thug who, unlike the woman, seemed to not have noticed him.

"You're disturbing the peace, herbivore."

The thug snarled at him, "What's it to you, pretty boy?" pulling the woman flush against him as he took out a knife, pressing it against the woman's neck. "Why don't you just run on home to mommy—"

And the large ruffian never got to finish whatever idiocy he was going to sprout next as a tonfa slams against his broad chest, throwing him off balance and loosening his hold on the violet-haired woman. "Move," Hibari hissed to the woman as he brought up his other tonfa to the thug's face, breaking the larger man's nose with a sickening and satisfying crack.

"YOU BASTARD!" bellowed the man, blood streaming down from his broken nose; before groggily taking a swipe at Hibari with the knife. The dark-haired teen easily dodged and aimed a well-placed kick to the man's crotch, eliciting a girly squeal and a stream of curses. "FUCK! I'LL KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

The man charged and Hibari afforded him with the most uninterested look his handsome (he was not pretty, damnit) face was capable of.

And that was saying something because Hibari Kyouya was the poster child of poker faces.

"I don't think so, herbivore."

 

*

 

"I-Is he dead?" The violet-haired woman asked, tottering in her four-inch heels towards the large thug and kicking the large, unconscious lump.

"Not yet," Hibari responded easily as if he did this everyday (he probably did, there really was no knowing with Hibari), bending over to pick up his bag and slipping it over his shoulder. "He has three broken ribs and a crushed esophagus. He'll live."

"Oh."

Turning on his heels, the dark-haired teenager started to walk away from the violet-haired woman, adamant on getting home quickly as he suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to leave food for Hibird. And Roll. He had only taken two long strides before a small hand closed upon his wrist and subsequently encroached upon his personal space.

"U-Um, thanks for saving me," the woman garbled out hurriedly in her soft voice that was starting to seriously grate at Hibari's already frayed nerves. "I'm Nagi, Rokudo Nagi" She introduced herself and Hibari had to wonder as to what kind of idiot gave their names out like that, honestly, what if he was some sort of creepy pervert stalker?

Not that Hibari Kyouya was a creepy pervert stalker, mind you.

Because he wasn't.

A creepy pervert stalker, that is.

"I want to properly thank you, so, if you…need anything…" Nagi trailed off and Hibari turned slightly to see that she was digging through her bag and taking out a crumpled card. "Um, here's my calling card." She shyly placed the bedraggled piece of card on his hand and he crushed down the feeling of déjà vu that was starting to creep up on him.

Hadn't he done the same thing earlier?

Well, whatever.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

 

 

"No, no, no, no, no! Sei un idiota? Fuori dalla mia vista!"

Dino Cavallone, fashion designer extraordinaire, suppressed an exasperated sigh as Gokudera Hayato exploded at one of the new models the Cervello sent them. The silver-haired Italian was currently sprouting out a stream of foul and admittedly creative curses, but as amusing as it was to watch Gokudera blow his top off, they needed to actually finish shooting his new line in time for the release of the next issue of Vongola Weekly.

Reborn threatened to skin him alive and leave him out to dry if he didn't accomplish anything today, and Dino really did not want to risk it.

Having the dark-haired Italian model as your mentor instilled the fear of God in you even if you weren't a very religious person.

Dino can proudly attest to that fact.

He even had the scars to show for it too.

"Hayato~!"The blond designer called out cheerily, his voice reverberating inside the studio and effectively drowning out Gokudera's enraged expletives. It also earned him an annoyed look from said Italian who halted in his tirade to give him the finger to which Dino countered with an angelic smile. "Come on, Hayato-kun, I think he," Dino motioned to the neophyte model who looked just about ready to shit in his pants after Gokudera's haranguing, "understood your point. Can we please continue with the shoot?"

Gokudera sneered and opened his mouth to argue because he was Gokudera Hayato and arguing was what he did best, next to modeling of course.

"If we don't finish this photo shoot today, Reborn is going to kill me," he said seriously and the silver-haired Italian gave him a look that suggested that the man could honestly care less if Reborn carved out Dino's insides with a spoon. Hell, Gokudera would probably offer to help. So Dino had no choice but to pull out his ace card when dealing with temperamental bastards like Gokudera Hayato, "Tsuna's going to get in trouble too if we—"

"Fine, I get it."

Bingo.

"But I'm not having that little shithead in my shoot." Gokudera declared, glaring holes at the nameless model.

Dino sighed, "Alright, alright, I'm sure we can work with that." The blond's eyes suddenly widened as he remembered something. Something that was horribly vital in their shoot. Their photographer was still missing. "Hey, where's Takeshi?" He asked, he still hasn't seen the cheerful Japanese photographer and it was just a tad bit surprising, seeing as Yamamoto Takeshi and Gokudera Hayato were practically attached by the hip.

"The hell would I know?"

"Well…don't you two live together?"

Gokudera speared him with an offended look, as if Dino had just poured rotten Puttanesca sauce all over his favourite Armani three-piece and stomped all over it, ruining the cloth with the soles of his vintage Valentino's.

Dino visibly wilted at Gokudera's pained expression and eerie silence. "So you aren't?" He inquired meekly; an angry Gokudera was something he could deal with, but a silent one? Dino hadn't the slightest clue. "Hayato-kun?"

Per Dio, where was Tsuna when you needed him?

 

*

 

Hibari Kyouya was having a bad day.

First, his heating got cut so he had to endure a very cold shower at four in the fucking morning. And then, his bastard of an uncle called and implied that he may have let it slip to his mother that Kyouya was currently staying in Japan in a town called Namimori. And finally, to make matters worse, his school ID was missing. Missing!

Goddamnit.

The green trails of Namimori~

Hibari startled from his prone position on the floor, a bit rattled by the sudden noise coming from his phone. Perhaps it was about time he changed his ringtone, he thinks absently as he listened to the Namimori anthem play in an endless loop. Reaching up a hand to the coffee table, he felt around for the small device and brought it down to his face, hoping fervently that it wasn't his uncle who was calling him again. The last person he wanted to talk to right now was his bastard of an uncle.

Stealing a glance at the screen, the dark-haired teen raised an eyebrow. Now, what on earth did I-pin want? He thought, just a tad bit concerned, because Hibari Kyouya was horribly overprotective of his cousin and was actually pretty much wrapped around the girl's little finger. Hell, he would probably watch the girliest chick flicks ever conceived if the middle-schooler asked him to.

"I-pin, what is it?"

"Ah, Kyouya!" A voice that was definitely not his cousin's rang boisterously from his phone and he scowled. He should have known better; he should have known better that his uncle would use I-pin's phone to get to him. "Finally! I was almost afraid that you'd thrown your phone away or somethi—"

Resisting the very tempting urge to do exactly what his uncle had said and indeed throw his phone away, Hibari gritted out a very forceful, "what do you want now?"

Fon tutted from the other line and the younger man could almost envision the condescending smile on his uncle's face. "I was only joking when I said that I told your mother, you know. Don't be too angry at me, no?"

Right, as if that was even possible, his very being was programmed to abhor the older man, Hibari thought with a derisive eye roll. "What do you want?" He demanded again, leaning back on the foot of worn couch in his small living room.

"Can't you just stay with us here at the house? I don't understand why you insist on living on—"

Oh, not that again.

Hibari sighed. "Goodbye, uncle. Give I-pin her phone back."

"Wait! Kyouya—"

 

*

 

Rokudo Mukuro's apartment was, for lack of better words, a complete dump. Not to mention that it reeked of sex and alcohol and the nauseating stench of tacky women's perfume.

Nagi's upper lip curled in annoyance, hands on her hips as she surveyed the mess. She had only been gone for three days to arrange the papers she needed for her trip to France and her brother had already managed to turn the apartment into a complete pigsty! Her frown deepened even further when she spotted what appeared to be lacy, pink lingerie hanging from the ceiling fan out of the corner of her eyes.

Oh hell no.

Inhaling harshly through her nose, the violet-haired woman marched purposefully to Mukuro's room, squeezed her eyes shut and wrenched the door open with more force than necessary. She was rewarded with a surprised squeal and a loud thud that either meant that the lamp near the bed had fallen or her brother had pushed his latest conquest off the bed. Judging from the horrified and feminine gasp, Nagi easily figured that it was the latter.

"Ow! Mukuro—"

"Nagi!"

"OUT! NOW!" Nagi yelled, eyebrows scrunching up on her forehead. "Not you, nii-sama, you stay." She warned her brother firmly, a frown set firmly upon her lips. "But whoever you brought home last night will have to go right now!"

"Nagi-" Mukuro's voice sounded from her right and Nagi turned towards her brother's voice as disapprovingly as she can manage with her eyes firmly shut.

"GET OUT NOW! Or else I'm going to burn your collector's edition of The Hobbit!" She finally settled for a threat. Her older brother was something of a bibliophile and would probably kill just for a book, especially for his prized collection of The Lord of the Rings. (Mukuro had dragged her to some far-offbookstore in Scotland just so he could get his hands on a very old copy of the books, and almost had an emotional breakdown when he finally bought it.)

"You wouldn't."

"I would." She promised.

"Fine!" The older Rokudo sibling finally conceded, and Nagi allowed herself a beatific smile.

If all else fails, threaten Tolkien.

 

*

 

"You are never going near my books ever again," Mukuro muttered after putting on a pair of sweatpants and a loose-fitting sweater. The model frowned deeply as he slumped down on the couch, heterochromatic eyes following his sister's every move, as if Nagi was going to suddenly take a lighter to his beloved books. "One does not simply threaten to burn The Hobbit, my dear baby sister."

"Please stop quoting Boromir at random moments," Nagi rolled her eyes, setting down a steaming mug of hot chocolate on the low coffee table in front of her brother. "I'm not going to burn your books, nii-sama. Please stop glaring at me." She finally said, before sitting down on the arm chair across Mukuro. "Reborn-san said that you need to find a new assistant. Again."

"Yes, well, the Vongola keeps on insisting on hiring annoying people and so I find it my civic duty to get rid of them," he answered with a flourish, leaning over the table to take the mug into his hands and taking a tentative sip from it. "The last one, whatshername, was the worst of the bunch; she couldn't even differentiate Armani from Dior."

"Her name was Iris," she helpfully supplied, leaning back on the armchair tiredly. How typical for her brother to not even bother to remember his assistant's names. "And well, you weren't very specific on what you wanted in an assistant, nii-sama."

Mukuro blinked, a thoughtful look flitting across his handsome face as he took another sip of the piping hot chocolate. What exactly did he want in an assistant? He'd never really put much thought into it since his little sister had acted as his assistant ever since he started modeling…

"Someone who can cook," He suddenly quipped, catching Nagi's attention and his sister made a vague motion with her left hand as if to say 'and?"Someone responsible, they have to know something about the business or at least be a fast learner, and they have to know how to speak Italian, and they have to at least be aesthetically pleasing to look at."

"Okay?"

"Are you going anywhere in particular, Nagi?" The model wondered aloud, taking notice of his sister's clothes for the first time that day.

"I'm—ah, meeting with the boss at his school. I need to return something…" She trailed off almost uncertainly, and Mukuro quashed the tempting urge to tease the girl. His sister had the most adorable crush on the Vongola heir and normally, he would be irrationally overprotective, but it was Sawada Tsunayoshi, the most awkward and helpless person Mukuro has ever met, they were talking about, so he lets it slip.

And besides, it was kinda cute.

Even if he has this strong suspicion that Tsunayoshi batted for the same team.

Oh well.

"Say hello to Tsunayoshi for me, then."

Violet eyes blinked owlishly at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. "Wait, you're not going to the studio today?"

"Nah, 'Dera's shooting for the Bucking Horse's new line today," he explained, reaching behind him for the remote control. "So, I'll just be at home gouging myself with Nutella." He'd rather not be there when the grumpy Italian model has another one of his monumental bitch fits, because as amusing as Gokudera was when he was insanely pissed off, Mukuro valued his ears.

He swears that he's still slightly deaf on his left ear after Gokudera had screamed at him that one time in Milan.

 

*

 

—a cognitive theory is focused on gaining insight into the writing process through the writer's thought processes. Composition theorists have attacked the problem of accessing writers' thoughts in various ways. Flower and Hayes' seminal essay, "A Cognitive Process Theory of Writing" sought to outline the writer's choice-making throughout the writing process, and how those choices constrained or influenced other choices down the line—

Hibari's pen stopped, the fingers holding the silver writing instrument tightening ever-so-slightly when he felt two, dare he say it, very concerned gazes boring holes on his looked up from his hunched position, grey eyes glinting sharply as they fell on two horribly familiar faces.

Sasagawa and Miura.

Great.

His school ID was still missing (he had to threaten the school guard into letting him inside school grounds) and now he had two annoying girls looking at him as if he was some sort of fascinating specimen.

Wonderful.

Intent on ignoring his former co-workers, the dark-haired teen doggedly turned back to his notes on Modern Theories of Composition and set about making sense of Birdwell's dissertations, until Miura Haru decided to sit on the empty chair in front of him, of course. And as if that wasn't enough, Sasagawa joined her as well, pointedly placing their books on the table and looking as if they belonged there.

(Which they definitely did not because Hibari Kyouya had claimed this part of the library as his on his first day in University and the fact still stands that he was very sure that Miura and Sasagawa did not belong in his college and thus had no business using this library in the first place.)

"What do you two want," Hibari finally deadpanned, closing his notebook and taking off his reading glasses to glare at the two girls.

Miura has the gall to actually look surprised and Hibari barely stops himself from hitting her with the nearest book.

"Well," Sasagawa piped up from beside the brown-haired girl; "Haru-chan and I wanted to help you find a part-time job, Hibari-san."

Haru nodded vehemently, staring at him with her annoyingly bright eyes. "Yeah! Since it's sort of our fault that Hibari-san got fired and—"

"I don't need your help." Hibari told them clearly, standing up from his seat before gathering his things and stuffing them inside his bag. "I appreciate your concern," a blatant lie, but Hibari was raised to be appallingly well-mannered and all that shebang. "But I don't need it."

"Wait, Hibari-san!"

 

*

 

"Boss!" Nagi greeted cheerfully as soon as she caught sight of the young Vongola heir. She daintily stood up from the wooden bench she had been sitting on and made her way to the surprised teen. Perhaps she should have called first? "Are your classes done for the day?"

"Nag—I mean, Chrome," Tsuna quickly amended, remembering the important tidbit that he wasn't supposed to call Rokudo Nagi by her real name, and instead was supposed to call her by a pseudonym that Mukuro had thought up (drunk, most likely, because really, Chrome?). It was something of an agreement they made when the eccentric model had stated working for the Vongola, a sort-of attempt to keep Nagi's private life, private, even as she acted as her older brother's assistant of sorts. And so the rest of the world knew that Chrome Dokuro was Rokudo Mukuro's assistant and no one ever bothered asking about what Rokudo Nagi, Mukuro's little sister, was up to, providing her with much needed privacy and keeping the relentless eyes and ears of the paparazzi far, far away from her. "What are you doing here?"

"It's alright to call me Nagi right now, boss; I'm not wearing the eye patch." She reminded, falling into step beside Tsuna.

"Ah, right." Tsuna muttered, walking over to the courtyard. "So, what's up?" He asked, a bit worried because Chrome—Nagi, he reminded himself yet again—wasn't really the type to randomly show up at one's school just for the heck of it. At least, Tsuna thought she wasn't.

"Um, I'm looking for someone…" she trailed off, hands awkwardly playing with the straps of her bag. "He's a student here—" And then the violet-haired woman was rummaging inside her bag and handing Tsuna an ID.

Brown eyes stared in shock at the small card. Because ohmigod, this was Hibari Kyouya's ID. Hibari Kyouya! "H-How—why do you have his, Hibari-san's ID?"

Nagi blinked. "He saved me last night."

"Saved you? Why? What happened?"

"I was almost mugged, but Hibari Kyouya-san saved me."

"You were mugged? Why? How?"

"I was almost mugged," she reiterated carefully, "Hibari-san arrived before that though and he dropped his ID because of that, so I wanted to return it as thanks. Do you know Hibari-san, boss?"

Sawada Tsunayoshi resisted the urge to groan in misery. He did know Hibari, or rather; he was very well-acquainted with the older teen's tonfas.

"Yeah, I do," he started, recalling all the times he'd spent running away from Hibari. "He was my upperclassman in middle school and high school and he's—er, really, reallystrict because he was the uh, disciplinary chairman. And I guess, Hibari-san's really smart, he got accepted to Tokyo U but turned it down because it was too far away or something…" Tsuna trailed off.

"Can he cook?" Nagi asked earnestly, the question suddenly falling off her tongue as she recalled her earlier conversation with her brother. If Hibari Kyouya can cook, then he was a pretty good candidate for her brother's assistant, and helping him get a job would be a great way to repay him. And if her memory was to be trusted, he was quite good-looking…

"I think so? I heard that he used to work for a café."

He can cook!

"Do you think he'll be interested in—oh, isn't that him, boss?"

 

*

 

"—so Haru heard from a friend that there's an opening for—"

Hibari was starting to think that the world hated him as Miura Haru continued to talk in her annoyingly high voice that grated on his nerves. He'd made it very clear that he wasn't interested in whatever they were trying to accomplish, but still, the two girls simply could not take a hint and insisted on following him.

(It was a good thing that Hibari was a gentleman and did not hit women on principle, because if he wasn't, he'd have already gotten rid of Miura and Sasagawa ages ago.)

"Hibari Kyouya-san!"

Oh great. Random people on the street were now screaming his name for some unknown reason.

What the actual fuck.

"Hibari-san!"

Hands itching for the familiar steel of his tonfas, Hibari spun around, a fierce glare on his face and he looked just about ready to bite someone's head off. Gods, if someone used his name haphazardly again—

"Hibari Kyouya-san," a woman with violet-hair called out and the dark-haired teen's eyes narrowed because she looked slightly familiar and—oh. She was the idiot woman he saved from a mugging last night. He raised a slim eyebrow in recognition, lips twisting down into a frown as he noticed for the first time that people were, in fact,crowding around him; Miura and Sasagawa were still being their idiotic selves and refused to leave him alone and now the violet-haired woman whose name he can't remember (was it Nami? Navi? Nana?) was now running towards him along with some detestable plant eater who looked awfully like Sawada Tsunayoshi.

Finally, someone he can beat up.

The violet-haired woman reached out a hand and latched on to his arm, effectively popping his personal bubble yet again. "Hibari-san, I—" She garbled out, hand fumbling inside her bag to pull out a card that looked suspiciously like his missing ID. "You dropped this yesterday…when you saved me."

So that's what happened, he absently thought as he took his ID.

"Oh! You're Rokudo Nagi! That's why you looked so familiar!" Miura rapidly quipped, hand latching onto his other arm and Hibari shudders inwardly. His personal bubble was being mercilessly raped by mindless females and he couldn't do anything about it; it seemed as if girls were immune to his glaring or something equally ridiculous. Or maybe they were just stupid. Whatever works. "You're so much prettier in person." The brown-haired girl continued sincerely.

"T-Thanks."

And then as if to rub salt to the wound, Sawada finally caught up with them.

Hibari was going to kill someone.

"Kyoko-chan, Haru, um, what are you doing with Hibari-san?" Sawada Tsunayoshi inquired in that stupidly prepubescent voice of his.

Seriously, Sawada was already in college and he still sounded like a girl. There has to be a rule about that or something.

"We're helping Hibari-san look for a part-time job," Sasagawa answered with a smile, and she was lying because he had flat-out refused their help earlier and he didn't even need help in the first place!

"You're looking for a job?" The violet-haired woman—Nagi, or whatever her name was, Hibari wasn't even paying attention anymore—asked. "There's an opening for an assistant in our company if you're interested, right, boss?"

Sawada blinked his annoyingly wide eyes. "We do? Oh—you mean that? Are you sure?"

And then Rokudo Nagi turned to him again, blinking her wide violet eyes in a manner that slowly peeled away the barriers he'd put up. Damnit, what is it with women and their annoyingly wide eyes that Hibari can't seem to say no to? "Just think about it, please. I really want to repay you for saving me last night."

That's it.

Hibari Kyouya was never going to save random herbivores from a mugging, ever again.

"I'll think about it."