All it took was a plane crash, and Kise Ryota was no more.
Strangely enough, he didn't feel sadness, only regret. Regret for not checking his engine beforehand. Regret for missing out on his friends with his job as a pilot. Regret for not spending t...
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Hibari was in a terrible mood. Eyebrows creased, lips more pursed and his eyes colder than usual, he glared at the crowding Herbivores in front of him.
His match from yesterday against the Varia's Cloud Guardian had gone as expected. A complete victory for him. Followed by his duel with Xanxus, nothing could have been more perfect.
At last, he would bite those arrogant people to death. How gratifying, satisfying, exciting.
His steel-grey eyes glinted.
The memory slightly eased his complexion before he grunted, his frown deepening. He didn't know who was the dumb Herbivore who thought of putting an old Herbivore in the Varia's Herbivorous Can, but he would be sure to bite them to death.
Scratch that, he would bite every single one of them to death.
Half-heartedly listening to the masked Herbivore, Kyoya closed his eyes, trying to contain his nerves. From the corner of his eyes, he spotted an annoyingly familiar hairstyle.
He growled. Was the pineapple-haired Herbivore there too? Oh, his day couldn't have gone worse. He refrained a sigh, his hands itching to grab his tonfas and end this ridiculousgame.
His goal was to bite others to death, not to listen to some Herbivores talking.
"Your wrist."
Kyoya's eyes fluttered open to stare into the holes of a mask. He raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"Your wrist," the hidden figure reiterated in a whisper, a bracelet in hand.
Hibari growled but extended his wrist nonetheless, slightly curious on the plan this supposed Poison Master had in store for them.
::
Mikaël's ragged breathing echoed in the room. A hand to his chest, he kept a tight grip on his shirt, twisting the fabric, again and again until it turned entirely wrinkled.
His other hand tightly grasped onto the edge of the bed, as if holding for his life, nails digging into the headboard. His head spun, his heart constricted at an irregular pace, sending his mind further into a turmoil.
