The air tastes of suffocating heat and the promise of a thunderstorm on the day Sawada Tsunayoshi visits him. Sawada's shoulders are broader than he remembers and he doesn't flinch while Hibari stares - the dark suit hugs and follows the lean line of his body, sticks to his form like second skin. Hibari's gaze doesn't stray from his guest as Tetsu quietly closes the fusuma doors with slightly trembling fingers, leaving the two of them alone in the room. Sawada's eyes burn with the icy heat of determination, back straight and arms relaxed by his sides as he looks back at Hibari without a spark of fear or hesitation.

"Hibari-san." Sawada greets him with a nod, his voice crisp and smooth like the freezing surface of icicles, and Hibari scents the spicy tang of anticipation in the air. It makes his fingers twitch.

Hibari watches him for a moment longer, seconds ticking loudly in the silence of the room before his lips finally move.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi," he says, the syllables rolling like tiny glass balls on the tatami floor.

The breathy little whish-whish sounds of the bamboo whisk are welcomed, familiar noises as Hibari mixes powdered green and steaming water in porcelain bowls. Sawada watches, eyes following the movements of long fingers and slender wrist, and Hibari waits.

He doesn't have to, for long.

Sawada speaks of plans woven thin, shaky and wispy like spider web, of a bleak present and a future non-existent. The shadowy presence of death hides behind his words, and Hibari's skin prickles at the silent acceptance he detects underneath the sturdy front.

"Why don't you ask one of your loyal dogs to do your bidding? Your family would surely understand?" he asks when Sawada falls silent, his tone a touch stronger and a bit mocking on the word Sawada so clearly holds dear.

He's neither loyal, nor part of Sawada's bonded little family - he is a king of his own and he takes pride in his name. From the way Sawada's eyes flicker momentarily, he knows and understands, even acknowledges that much.

He still came to ask. It's a dangerous game he's playing.

"I need you for this," he says quietly, doesn't use want instead of the more powerful and desperate need, doesn't add I only trust an equal with what I hold dear. His eyes are hard like diamonds and his jaw is set with the edge of steel.

Sawada talks and Hibari listens, watches fangs gleam when light catches on their razor sharp ends and hears claws tearing at his floor.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't even listen to Sawada's request - Sawada and his pack (considerable in size but weak in strength) is not a concern of his. Under normal circumstances, Sawada wouldn't ask - he prefers the lull of safety of his flock and doesn't venture outside his territory if he doesn't have to. They coexist in understanding and avoid unnecessary contact while respecting unset boundaries.

Sawada is sitting before him, his head held high and back straight, and Hibari wants to snarl into his face.

"I have no interest in helping you," he says, and Sawada's lips twitch into a mockery of a smile before his breath leaves him in a quiet rush.

He bows his head a little and soft strands of silky hair brush the nape of his neck. He looks up at Hibari, exposing a thin line of naked skin above the white collar of his shirt.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Hibari-san." Sawada's voice is soft and his neck is slightly bent, but his eyes still simmer with the alluring promise of a challenge.

Hibari's lips slowly stretch into a smirk full of teeth.