Sweet little Sawada Nana, with her soft brown hair and her sad brown eyes. I heard she did something strange again today, did you hear it as well?

"There has always been something off with that one," the people of Namimori whisper. Even before she took the name Sawada, even before she became who she was today, she always was an odd one-never quite there-but still so strangely observant.

("Maybe she isn't right in the head," they said when they thought no other could hear. "Maybe something has taken root there, rotted away her thoughts until there was nothing but a strange empty shell left.")

It shouldn't have been a surprise, and indeed it wasn't to all those who knew her, that Sawada Nana's only son didn't turn out quite right either.

…

"Did you know you have stars in your eyes?" A quiet voice spoke behind him. Kyoya turned, fingers twitching to reach for his tonfas, and looked to see who had spoken.

It was a tiny thing, a boy with fluffy brown hair that stuck up in every way and brown brown brown (orange) eyes. Those eyes seemed to stare at him-indeed, straight through him-and it left an odd feeling in Kyoya's gut.

Nothing more than a tiny herbivore. Just two or three years younger than him, still so fragile in the face of the world. And yet, and yet-there was something about him that made Kyoya pause, something in those eyes that made Kyoya want to listen.

It wasn't a feeling he was used to. He hardly spoke with anyone, and listened to even fewer. He hated humans (herbivores groveling, begging, pleading on the ground) crowding around him (too tight, too tight, too tight!) and closing in. They were weak, pathetic fools, breaking the laws of society as they pleased for their own ends. They didn't understand what to do when a carnivore stood before them, couldn't comprehend it, and for that he sought to teach them.

(Crack, bones broke with a satisfying crush. Ah, so sweet, such music too his ears)

People avoided him nowadays, even though he had yet to finish elementary school. Already people whispered his name with fear, already his reputation for viciousness had spread. There was even an organization forming in his name, made of herbivorous delinquents who had recognized his strength and vowed their loyalty to him. A disciplinary committee, they were, so Hibari Kyoya had decreed.

Few dared approach him these days, let alone one as young as this. How long had it been since someone approached him last?

How surprising, he mused, grey eyes taking in every detail of the boy before him. Such a small boy he was.

(Later, Kyoya would look back on that moment and laugh. Approaching him was hardly the most surprising of things the strange little omnivore would do)

"Herbivore," Kyoya spoke, eyes narrowed, hackles raised. "What are you doing?"

The herbivore blinked at him, eyes wide, hands clasped behind his back. "Asking you a question," he stated, as if it was obvious, as if anyone would walk up to him and ask him something as strange as what he had.

("Did you know you have stars in your eyes?")

He looked rather harmless, Kyoya thought, gaze settled on those smoky, distant eyes of his. Like a small fluffy animal, oblivious to the dangers of the world and staring foolishly out into the abyss.

(Or perhaps it was the abyss which had always followed young Tsunayoshi around, baring all its secrets before his mind)

"Herbivore," Kyoya said, annoyance bubbling up from deep within.

"Yes?" Came the response, so simple, so innocent, like a small animal that didn't know any better.

"Leave." One chance, just one, and if the herbivore wouldn't leave, Kyoya wouldn't hold back.

Sawada Tsunayoshi smiled then, distant and strange, a smile full of secrets just out of reach. He nodded happily, seemingly satisfied, and turned to walk away. He walked and walked and walked with a sort of skip in his step, and for some reason, Kyoya couldn't tear his gaze away.

"Watch out for the fox dancing on the back of a man, Hibari-san!" The herbivore threw one last call over his shoulder, a secretive smile stretched oh so wide, before disappearing around the bend.

Kyoya watched that corner for a moment longer, lingering for reasons unknown, before he dismissed the creature, dismissed the encounter, and went on with his day.

(A knife swung, narrowly missed, a slice across his chest, with red red red blood dripping to the ground. Revenge, the man's eyes all but screamed, for the comrades Kyoya had felled. Kyoya cared not, and knocked him to the ground.

The body fell, a soft thud in his ears, and Kyoya paused upon seeing something he hadn't quite expected.

The jacket the man wore had a picture of a fox dancing on it's back)