When Mukuro first opened his eyes, he was surprised to say the least. He was not born into the world, but was already grown child, a boy of around six. He looked at his hands incredulously. When he had determined that they were suitably real, he glanced around at his surroundings. He noticed a silver pan holding scalpels, knives, and various other pointy objects. He grabbed the pan, and dumped its contents on the to ground with a clang! He studied his reflection. He didn't even get a chance to take a good look at himself.

The breath was knocked out of him. He was drowning...He gasped desperately for air. A boy, experimented on. The clip-clap of heels on a tiled floor. White. Red. Blood. Pain. It hurts. Stop it!

Estraneo.

And then it was gone. He sat there, panting for a while, fingers knotting and tugging at his sheets. His eyes wandered to the pan, which had clattered to the floor some time earlier. As if noticing his environment for the first time, his eyes were drawn to the others in the room.

There were two more boys on the beds next to him. One was had a head full of spiky blonde hair and the other, surprisingly neat black hair. The two of them seemed to be sleeping, or maybe even unconscious.

"-om inside the room."

"He couldn't have woken up already."

"Well we might as well go check."

The gray door swung open to reveal two men in long white coats. Mukuro greeted them with a smile.

"Oh, you are awake," one of the men said sourly. He grabbed and studied Mukuro's face closely, much to Mukuro's distaste. He forcefully lifted Mukuro's face to examine the boy and told his companion, "Go tell the director that experiment number 387 is successful."

"Oh yes, it's very successful," Mukuro said smiled sweetly as the scientist made a move to peel off the bandage on Mukuro's eye.

The man stared at Mukuro. "What are you talking abou..."

"...AAAAAAAHRGHHH!"

"What's wro-" the other scientist stopped short as he stared at the being in front of him. It terrified him to the spot.

The door slammed open. It rebounded off the wall with a crack! There was a mess, a clutter, of movement where guns were waved, a dark, smooth gray under the fluorescent lights. Trays and carts toppled and fell. Clang! A muffled, unintelligible mess of yells and white flurry steadily grew a deep crimson.

It was silent. A soft whimper. And then a gunshot. A soft muffled thump sounded throughout the room as the last Estraneo fell to the ground.

"Oh did I wake you two up?" Mukuro asked as he attempted to wipe off some of the blood from his face with his soaked blankets.

"Who are you?" the blond said with a high-pitched, false bravado. He clenched his fists and his jaw in an attempt to feign strength. The other black haired one just stared calmly, albeit slightly fearfully. He was silent. Mukuro lips curled into a smile as he laughed.

"Kufufu," Mukuro chuckled. "Just as I thought, this world isn't worth it... Let's erase it all."

He raised his hand to his eye and pulled off the bandage over his eye as he turned to face them. Both boys stared at the bottomless red pool, with a character floating on its surface.

"Shall we?"

Kyouya Hibari was by no means an ordinary boy. For one, he loved school. Well, his school in any case.

Namimori Middle School.

Hibari's pride and joy. He tirelessly worked to make it better, to remove any herbivores that were acting above their level, anything, for his beloved school. So when its students, particularly the ones that were on the invincible, dedicated disciplinary committee, Hibari would take none of it. And so, he fearlessly worked and fought to find out who the hooligans that were disrupting Namimori's delicate peace.

What he found, however, was much more than he bargained for.

Kokuyo was home to the rowdiest students around; that was a well known fact. However, the hooligans that caused all this trouble was far worse.

They had no qualms about hurting others. That was evident from the blood sprayed on the walls, and the fact that they pulled the teeth of their victims ruthlessly.

This did not bother Hibari in the slightest.

What did bother Hibari, however, was how the hooligans' leader smiled as if he knew everything. Smiled as if he knew Hibari's every thought, his every weakness, everything.

And the hooligan smiled a worse kind of smile. His predatory smile was one that Hibari was very familiar with. But the way this hooligan's lips curved at the corners spoke something else. Instead of Hibari's desire to just defeat (and mercilessly crush and destroy) his opponents, this smile hinted that it wanted nothing more than to conquer. Conquer and control.

Pink petals danced in the air.

What a coincidence. I came looking for the clams, and instead I found a little skylark.