Title: When One Game Ends...

Disclaimer: None of Katekyo Hitman Reborn, Botan Dourou, or Japanese proverbs below are mine

Credit: I am forever in debt to Emotive Gothika who kindly beta read the draft even though D18 is her least favourite pairing; Skylara who dutifully edited the fic during her exam period; and jusrecht who gave me such valuable advice

Prompt: Dino/Hibari - game; 'you should know better than to treat it as one'

Warnings: Meiji police officer AU; reversible yaoi sex; intense love story with multiple character deaths (though I wouldn't call it a sad ending); canine life

Author's note: This fanfic is written in British English (hence 'metre' instead of 'meter' and single quotation mark for normal speech)

Cultural Notes:

The Meiji Period lasted from 23 October 1868 to 30 July 1912. This fanfic took place in the early 1870s.

Handcuffs used to be a "one size fits all" device — metal rings that locked in place. In 1862, W. V. Adams revolutionized the device with the invention of adjustable ratchets that could bind wrists tightly or loosely, which consisted of a square bow with notches on the outside that engaged with a lock mechanism shaped like a teardrop. Several years later, Orson C. Phelps patented a version of the ratchet handcuff that placed the ratchet notches on the inside of the square bow.

'Tokei' is what 'Tokyo' was called during the early period of Meiji.

Kirisutegomen (literally 'killing and going away') is the right of a samurai to immediately kill a member of a lower caste who is acting improperly, invoked for insults, real or imagined.

A Genkan is a traditional Japanese entryway area for a building, which consists of a porch and a doormat where people remove their shoes. The tiled or concrete genkan floor is called tataki.

The hour of the Ox lasts from 2 to 4 a.m. (one hour in the historical Japanese hour is equal to 2 hours in modern time) and is notorious as the special hour for ghosts.

'To become a god' (kami ni naru) is the euphemism of 'to die.'

'Botan Dourou' or 'Peony Lantern' is a tragic necrophilia story in which a ghost, accompanied by her maidservant, visited her lover's chamber at night, carrying a peony lantern, and always left before dawn. The man's servant, or in another version, his neighbour, once witnessed their union and asked a Buddhist monk for a barrier of talismans to repel the ghost. Nevertheless, in the end, this barrier was removed, the ghost regained her access, and the man died.

That night, the air was chillier than usual with the cold, damp wind stirring the dirt and dust into diminutive cyclones that skimmed across the water puddles on the bleak thoroughfares and blowing off the street lanterns. The faithful moon peeped demurely behind the masses of dark clouds that loomed over Namimori, a small town that lay northeast of Tokei. The rain had just ceased tumbling down, but many workmen had chosen to succumb to the ensnaring conjuration of Sleep before the shower entered its third hour.

This was not, however, the case for the twenty-three-year-old Inspector Hibari Kyouya, who was perusing one of his subordinates' reports on a misbehaved samurai in the flickering light of a yagakuyo-andon study lantern. The dissolvability of the caste system the Meiji Restoration brought, which thus resulted in the ban of carrying a sword in the open for the used-to-be samurai, had stirred up public disturbances. Earlier that afternoon, according to the paper that was now in his hand, a shopkeeper had rebuked an ex-samurai for delayed payment, and the offended customer, no longer justified to execute kirisutegomen, wrecked some of the shops merchandise instead. The shopkeeper, who had tried to prevent further damage, was knocked into the wall and had collapsed. The result that followed was the bystanders defending the shopkeeper and beating the samurai until the appropriate authorities came to stabilise the riot. Fortunately enough, these police officers had come before the samurai's wounds endangered his life.

Upon hearing the sound of thunder from the murky sky outside, the petulant young man paused in his reading, his gaze directed outside the latticed circular window. Amidst the remaining water droplets that trickled from the edges of the tiled roof, a figure was approaching.

Hibari's eyes narrowed. Not even the slightest din of footsteps reached his ears. As the visitor came closer, the police inspector could gradually distinguish the figure's features. It was the shape of a man bearing such pale hair colouring that, even in the sunless night such as this one, he could still tell that the walker was a foreigner. He knew this man's stature; it belonged to none other than Dino Cavallone.

Now neglecting his documents completely, Hibari stood by the shouji door, tonfa in both hands. Gone was the man who was Namimori's shield of protection by day. What remained of him was a predator, lurking in wait for his prey. So far, only four people could lure the inner beast within Hibari to the surface.

One was Japan's most renowned illusionist who was frequently sent out far and wide as a spy, Rokudou Mukuro. Another was his own superior, the chief police inspector for all of Japan, Tsunayoshi Sawada. The third one was Tsuna's teacher, a genius child with sideburns, whom everyone calls 'Reborn', but whose real identity remained a mystery.

None of those three individuals enticed Hibari more than the fourth one. The weapon trader not only won against him in one-to-one combat, but also possessed such radiant smiles that they were unforgettable. The proud skylark tried hard to dispel those smiles from his mind, he really did. Alas, this was one of the few exceptions where his calm personality betrayed him. This charlatan was alluring enough for the skylark to cross the boundary of propriety.

To the public eye, Hibari was perceived as one who would not speak unless out of necessity, bar one subject. It was no secret that whenever this particular subject was mentioned, Hibari tended to growl more often — it was annoying to him: Dino Cavallone and his maddening kisses.

They had known each other for four years. The inspector had mistaken the foreign weapon supplier as a drug dealer who had been causing disturbances in Namimori, which resulted in handcuffing and escorting him to the police station for interrogation. The blond man said nothing no matter how hard the police officers beat him. But he smiled the moment the inspector entered the interrogation room. In flawless Japanese, he spoke, 'A Cavallone never deals with drugs in his lifetime.'

The inspector studied the captive carefully. The foreigner's relaxed gait all the way down to the police station and unperturbed composure during an interrogation proved that there was more to this Cavallone man than just a common herbivore. Behind those brown eyes was a frightening man — a man who might not even blink when blood spattered across his face, a man made for killing, a carnivore.

Another officer had entered the room in such haste, and declared that the Italian's assistant, a middle-aged bespectacled man, had come by. With him were the real drug dealer and all the necessary proof to the crimes. Many apologies accompanied the trader's release, but none of them came from the proud inspector.

Then, later in the evening, when Hibari arrived at his own house, the blond had been waiting for him. Only then, did words fly from the younger man's mouth, 'Why did you allow yourself to be caught?'

'How can you be certain that I let myself be caught, inspector?' A smile — just a tinge, but unmistakably predatory — adorned the gaijin's countenance.

How the raven-haired man disdained that smile — the smile insidious enough to ignite the spark he never wished to kindle.

He replied not in words, but in action. Soon the clang of metal tonfa meeting leather whip in a clash filled the air.

Only after the foreign civilian had successfully evaded his blow, did the Japanese emit a verbal answer, 'You are capable enough of fighting me should you desire so.'

On they fought, first with weapons, then with tongues — panting and nibbling and biting and thrusting and raking and holding friction upon friction. And just like that, their encounters always started with a fight and ended with sex. Tonight was no exception to their routine.

No words greeted the weapon trader as he slid the shouji door close, only a rapid swing of tonfa. The blond sidestepped hurriedly. Nonetheless, he dared not step away from the solid tataki stone floor of the genkan. Long ago, when he had been less familiar with Japanese culture, he had stepped into Hibari's house with his shoes on. As a result, he had to spend the night cleaning the tatami mat, thus reducing their sex time drastically — there was no need for him to undergo such experience twice.

The surly man squinted. Swift to elude, as always.

'Wait Kyouya, I have not even removed my shoes yet!'

But the skylark ignored his guest's plea. Bombarding the older man with more tonfa strikes, Hibari snarled, 'Unless the mechanism of this watch is as untrustworthy as the stupid herbivore who bought it, it has been four months, twenty-seven days, eleven hours, five minutes and thirteen seconds since you neglected me!'

'Not "neglected". Come now, Kyouya, you know how I cannot stop thinking of you no matter how many miles stretch between us,' the Italian responded as he dodged; the storm of the Japanese's attacks had not abated.

'Keep those excuses for yourself, Cavallone!' With one swift movement, he handcuffed the Bucking Horse's wrist ... to his own.

'Uh, Kyouya?' A raised brow accompanied this question.

'With this, you will not be able to get away from me, insolent herbivore.' Calm though his voice was, a flame glistered in the skylark's eyes. Quickly Hibari undid his uniform — the uniform which Dino used to yearn to tear apart to reveal the fair complexion underneath it. Even now, the uniform buttons were glimmering playfully in candle light.

The taller man swallowed thickly. 'Kyouya, we mustn't ... not tonight.'

But the younger man bit the side of his neck. As Dino gasped in both pain and ecstasy, he heard an angry hiss, 'Now or never.'

The Italian averted his eyes and clenched his jaw before answering. 'Never it is then.'

With a smirk, the raven-haired inspector's face came closer. He delivered his reply while nibbling his captive's ear. 'As a man who trades weapons, can you not even tell that from the moment you were arrested, the luxury of choosing solely belongs to me?'

Hibari's free hand slid to remove Dino's coat, but the older man's other hand was quick to stop him. 'No Kyouya, we ... I can't.' There was a flicker of hesitation in his brown eyes when his mouth declared, 'I have come to bid you farewell.'

'Because you are dead?' chided Hibari as he wiped off the blood from his chin, where Dino's whip had grazed it. Never before had a wound felt this piercing; on earth, they would see no more of each other.

The Bucking Horse gripped his whip even tighter, preparing himself for the skylark's next strike. Instead of another rain of tonfa or a burst of anger, he received a quiet response, barely above a whisper, 'Life is more than just a game; you should know better than to treat it as one.'

The Japanese's tone was not vitriolic like his usual one, but sharp in its own way — bitter with rancour and encumbered with grief; yet at the same time, infuriated with inexorable rage so condensed that Dino almost believed that he had betrayed his inamorato.

The golden-haired man sighed. He still remembered that the last gasp of breath he had emanated before he expired in his deathbed, back in the hospital room in Italy, had been none other than his soul mate's name. Finally, he inquired, 'How did you know ... that I am no longer alive?'

'You arrived at the hour of the Ox. The streets are still wet from the earlier rain; yet, your shoes fail to leave any watermark on the floor. And in case you did not notice, there is no reflection of you in there.' The police inspector pointed at the corner of the room. There, stood armour from the Sengoku period, encased in a glass display which reflected only Hibari's figure.

The older man closed his eyes briefly. His throat never felt any drier than this. Still, he opened his mouth and weaved his words of warning, 'Kyouya, those who copulate with the dead—'

'Shall not be allowed to stay in the realm of the living?' Hibari finished the rest of the sentence for Dino although he felt invisible thorns shredding his throat with each word he verbalised.

Dino eyed his lover in disbelief: his Kyouya knew, and yet, still decided to join him in death.

'I have endured five months enchained with memories while chasing your empty shadow; don't you dare be impertinent enough to expect me to endure five years or five decades!' The voice sounded like the angry growl of a ferocious panther, but to Dino Cavallone's ears, it was as delirious as the tune of a sakuhachi flute.

The Bucking Horse couldn't bring himself to offer any reply. He only stared.

'Who killed you?'

The question left the skylark's mouth as lightly as a tendril of vapour dissipating into the air. Even though the Japanese man's expression remained unchanged, the bitterness in the tone itself was apparent. One name from Dino, and he would next be seen rushing to deliver vengeance upon the possessor of the name, no doubt. The Italian smiled. Words of love were never Hibari's style; action was.

Softly, the golden-haired man shook his head and answered the truth, 'It was a chronic kidney disease.'

That ought to explain why the Bucking Horse had not contacted the skylark for months, but Hibari was no patient man when it came to romance ... no, especially when it came to romance. He grabbed the taller man by the collar, 'How dare you let another kill you! Didn't you agree that I was the one who should bite you to death?'

But the Japanese gave the Italian no chance to whine his defence. The raven sealed the blond's lips with a deep kiss — a kiss they both wished to last eternally, yet was bound to last ephemerally by Time's unfavourable nature.

Strings of saliva still tangling from their mouths, the shorter man's free hand trailed down to undo his inamorato's trousers. When five long fingers deftly set to work, the taller man could not help but gasp his seducer's name. His proud, erect flesh was a solid proof how much he yearned for those touches during the last five months.

The inspector showed him no mercy. Each stroke was more intense than its preceding one, and he would not cease until he heard, 'Kyouya, I cannot hold it anymore; I need you!'

The corners of the skylark's mouth curved up a little. Next, he slipped his hand into his pocket and took out a key. No sooner had the pieces of metal stopped clanging when they hit the stone floor did Hibari peel off the attire from his body. With hands placed on the tatami dais while feet still on the lower tataki stone platform, he bent so low that his bare bums were raised before Dino. 'Do it now!'

'But Kyouya,' his lover pleaded at him concernedly, 'You are unprepared.'

'Time is not on our side. Make haste!'

Kneeling, Dino brought his face closer and closer to the younger man's rear entry. There, he proved that his tongue was proficient even beyond the art of speaking. Chin glued to the Japanese's crotch while fingers squeezed the fleshy mounds, the Italian explored the nether region cave with his tongue. Despite the familiarity, this cave had always brought fresh excitement to him whenever he went down caving, and kept him longing to re-explore it when he was not doing so.

At any other time, Hibari would let Dino continue the tongue ministration prior to penetration — secretly, silently begging for more with every brush. Yet today, he knew it wouldn't be wise drown himself in such indulgence. One sharp hiss was all he needed to compel the older man obey him. 'You seem to have difficulty in comprehending the meaning of "haste", Cavallone!'

Sure enough, the Bucking Horse knew better than to tamper with his lover's temper. Replacing his face from the twin cushions of the younger man's rear flesh with the tip of his manhood as he sprung up, Dino made his way to Hibari's tight entrance — the warmth that he had been craving for five months. Slowly. Gently. Assuringly.

The police inspector's knees buckled at the penetration of the weapon trader's full glory. This position — the position of his own choosing — was the consequence he had to bear for not facing the one who was currently claiming his body.

He did not wish for the weapon trader to see him in such a wantonly degrading state. Not when his eyelids were shutting in pain under his knitted eyebrows. Not when his lips were trembling from holding back his moans of pleasure. Not when his laborious breathing made him sound vulnerable. And certainly not when his entire being tensed up to meet the true mate of his soul.

'Kyouya... Kyouya...' The same name repeatedly came out of Dino's trembling mouth during his back and forth journeys. His mind still doubted whether this was the right thing to do, but his body refused to listen to any reasoning. So what if the sun rose from the west, or if the end of the world were to come at that moment? Right now, he just wanted an entity named Hibari Kyouya.

As always, silence was all the Japanese gave in response to his Italian lover. Their love had always been mutual since they first met ... only, one of them openly and passionately admitted it, while the other coated himself with denials, keeping his feelings hidden — albeit unsuccessfully. On the surface, Hibari was never soft, but Dino knew how much he truly meant to Hibari behind that cold façade.

Au wa wakare no hajime. [Meeting is only the beginning of separation.]

Dino lifted one of Hibari's legs, taking the liberty of granting him wider access. The younger man's curled toes proved that his action was not all for nothing. More sweat drenched the inspector's body; he had to stand on one leg while being taken from the back and the sensation inside the pit of his stomach grew more intense by the second.

Inochi wa fuu-sen no tomoshibi. [Life is a lantern-flame exposed to the wind.]

Dino tilted both of his partner's thighs now, only to drop the younger man to meet himself in a succession of impaling thrusts. They were facing the armour's glass case again now, and since Dino's reflection was missing, it seemed as though Hibari's body had been going up and down whilst floating in mid-air.

Bonnou kunou. [All lust is grief.]

When their eyes met, Hibari's mysterious pool of dark orbs whetted the desire inside him. They acted like magnets and when they did, to Dino, it was easier to turn down a business opportunity with millions of lire profit than to restrain himself from kissing Hibari.

The blond felt he was close; above, the raven's tongue would not free his from their entwinement; below, the raven's lower part wiggled as though keeping the blond's penetrations in a leash. Their heavy panting raced, reaching for the same goal that could not be far now.

The golden haired man gritted his teeth. With all this escalating heat, the backdraught inside him was bound to explode, and when it did, the inspector's arching back jostled onto his chest. He froze the moment his essence flowed within his partner's body.

Even so, Dino was aware that the younger of them had not released his load yet. Hence, intending to attend to Hibari with his mouth, the Bucking Horse let go of the skylark standing on the ground, while he himself hastily removed his shoes, crept over the tatami dais, and fumbled towards the inspector's nether nub. Before his tongue reached the juncture between his beloved's inner thighs, however, a hand grabbed his head.

Dino looked up, wondering why Hibari stopped him. The answer came the very next second: his impatient lover pushed him onto the tatami.

'Kyouya...'

None too gently, Hibari knelt and pulled Dino's legs apart.

'Wait, Kyouya!'

'I cannot.'

Even before he finished his terse answer, the skylark moved forward, finding his way into the Bucking Horse's body through one rigorous thrust and his body joined in a blazing passion with his lover's.

Whenever I'm inside you, I feel so alive.

The older man jolted at the intrusion of such virility. Throwing his head back, he writhed in throe.

A concerned, yet undeterred gaze was all the younger man gave. The next second, he glided even deeper inside, earning a loud moan from his partner.

The police inspector trailed his fingers along the other man's cheek and jaw line before placing his hand on the ground to support himself.

The blond gazed at the figure above him. Passion burning like fiery embers, sweat drizzling from smooth skin and muscles rippling in movement, Hibari Kyouya was the most beautifulcreature in Dino Cavallone's eyes. Quivering, Dino grasped Hibari's forearm, but willingly spread himself wider.

'Even though you have become a god, I cannot hold back,' he told the sprawled figure underneath him. With that, Hibari's lips claimed Dino's.

Let me embrace your sorrow.

There was no gentleness in the inspector's kiss, instead it was rushed and demanding, even more so than his usual ones.

Next, gathering both calves that flanked him and hoisting them over his shoulders, the younger man buried himself to the hilt inside the Italian.

The tempestuous thunders outside were mere whispers when compared to Dino's sonant groans. Yet, his hands wouldn't push the Japanese away; rather than bound by physical handcuffs, they were bound by lust's invisible fetters. He was a reputable trader of weaponry who was not supposed to be submissive, not even to show he was in pain... but all those rules dissolved into naught if it were for his Kyouya and his Kyouya alone. His body performed incessant spasms as the Japanese moved in-and-out-and-in-and-out-and-in-and...

'Ahh!'

Dino closed his eyes when a jet of white travelled within him, filling him up. This exchange of bodily liquid inside each other validated Hibari's admittance to the realm of the dead and at the same time banned him from the realm of the living.

Tangled limbs to limbs with laving seminal fluid and decelerating breaths, the two men gazed at each other.

I'm not going to let death do us part.

As the Bucking Horse caressed the skylark's wiry hair, a single sakura petal entered from the window, carried by the wind. It had been the last day of cherry blossoms in bloom. During the past three days, the city parks had been flooded by picnicking groups, cheerful with sake and songs during the hanami cherry blossom viewing.

Two years before, Dino had visited him and they had sipped some sake under the sakura tree in Hibari's garden. Mild spring breeze had touched their cheeks and gentle sunrays had illuminated their hair aglow, though none of these things could rival the tenderness of Dino's kisses.

Now they knew they could never sit together under that tree again.

The dark-haired man watched the single sakura petal fall onto the tatami, near the blond's head. Like sakura, no sooner the trees blossomed than their flowers were scattered by the wind, people's lives too, were no more than fragility in the face of Fate.

A golden glow, like the light from a thousand fireflies, engulfed the apparition. Frigidity bled across the formerly warm skin. Dino's substantiality dissipated into intangibility. Hibari, who had still been lying atop of his lover, now lay through him on the tatami, shivering but refusing to let go.

'Your time ends here, Dino Cavallone.'

The couple looked sideways and found a hooded figure standing two metres away from them. Skeletal fingers poked out of the tattered pallid sleeves, carrying a massive scythe on one hand, and a book on the other. No light perforated the hood, so the face of its wearer could only be perceived as darkness.

'Surely you have heard of the Peony Lantern legend?' The Reaper addressed Hibari with a voice as thin as ether, yet as deep as a bottomless abyss.

Even so, as something no longer a human, Hibari could tell by the aura that the entity before him was a primeval being, someone more ancient than the earliest civilisation that had an aeon of lifetime. The police inspector nodded, more obediently than any nod he ever gave to human beings.

'Then you must have been aware of how grave it was, the sin of copulating with the dead,' reinstated the hooded Reaper.

The raven-haired man nodded again and confirmed, 'Even Hell itself is a dwelling place.' [Jigoku mo sumika.]

With one swing of the Reaper's scythe, the two souls dispersed from the room. The Reaper held his book open, scribbled onto thin air, and the next moment, letters were jotted down onto the formerly empty page. The Reaper closed his book and then allowed the darkness swallow his whole being.

###

Several years later, at the back of a Norwegian village alleyway, a Pyrenean Mountain Dog, now strayed, was trying to scrape some food from bins. Until the day before, he had been a house dog, and a good one at that: well-mannered, friendly and loyal. But then, the house of the family that had owned him had been caught in a fire, and although nobody had died in that accident, the sudden poverty had driven the humans to abandon their pet.

Just when the dog nibbled on a piece of bone, his nose caught the scent of another male dog. The dog made his appearance not long afterwards: a feral Siberian Husky who was displeased of a stranger trespassing on his territory.

When their eyes met, the beef bone slipped from the Pyrenean's maw. Before the bone hit the ground with a clatter, the two dogs charged at each other. On one, fangs sank into flesh, dabbing the coat of white with crimson. On the other, paws scratched deep, drawing parallel lines bearing the same crimson colour on the coat of white and grey.

On they fought; incisors and claws at work in the dead of the night, until the Pyrenean managed to push the Husky onto the nearest wall and was ready to launch the last strike to the throat. Then, it occurred to both dogs that neither really wanted the other to be dead. Instead of delivering the finishing bite, the white Pyrenean licked the white and grey Husky's wounds instead.

The Husky growled, offended that an enemy took pity on him — the strongest dog in the area. The Pyrenean kept licking him and even when the Husky attacked him yet again, the Pyrenean licked him still.

Again, the two of them danced in the palm of Destiny. There were no whip and tonfa, no laws and trades, no underlings, no trace of memories of their past lives as humans and all that, yet the same old instinct brought them together once again. Their encounter started with antagonism, but the Husky — the formerly solitary Husky — welcomed the gentle Pyrenean into his domain in the end.

If life were a game, and the game were over, it would simply start anew.

THE END