Hayate glared at his incomplete calculations, set the chewed-on pencil down, and pushed himself to sit upright on his bed. He sat cross-legged, tucking his socked feet close up under his thighs to keep them warm. He reached back and pressed his knuckles into the small of his back, arching over with a pleased moan. He had been working over the venom calculations for a little too long--he was beginning to feel stiff.

He rolled his shoulders and sighed, sitting back to eye his new room with a little satisfaction.

The previous owner of apartment 109 in the ANBU headquarters had apparently held a grudge against furniture in general. The desk's top had a hole in it, which looked to be the work of a particularly bored--or deranged--person with a kunai. The desk chair was missing a leg. The cheap dresser had several slit-holes which meant it had been previously used for target practice with kunai. The bed-frame itself had a broken leg, which had been pegged back together with an old kunai and several layers of medical tape--and a few passes of steel wire.

Hayate didn't really mind. He had no use for the desk, the dresser still worked with holes, and he had no fear of the bed's hasty repair-job giving way. He was not a particularly heavy person. He figured it would hold.

The room was still, silent, echoing his own raspy breathing back at him. The quiet made him a little uneasy. He stretched again, just for the pleasure of it, and leaned over the edge of the bed. He frowned at his notepad and the bowl of strawberries beside it on the floor. He plucked a strawberry from the bowl and sat up again, looking over towards his window and the potted plant on the sill.

Vivid in the afternoon sunlight, the little pot was overflowing with the bright green foliage of the strawberry plant, and had a few starry white blooms amidst half-ripe berries. Hayate eyed the water level in the pan the pot was set in--it looked good enough. He grinned in satisfaction and nibbled on the strawberry in his hand. This one was perfect, just ripe and bright and sweet red with a hint of tart, very juicy. Hayate chuckled as the juice slid down his chin, hastily reaching up to wipe it away.

The plant was one of the few things that made the apartment more like home. The nice, thick rug in front of the bed was another--and the pile of blankets on the bed, warm and soft. Hayate liked being warm, just about as much as he liked strawberries. Hayate considered the green leaves and stem left in his hand. The silence of the room pressed in on him.

Instead of getting another berry, he dropped the stem next to the bowl, with the rest, and got off the bed, licking his sticky fingers as he went. It was only a few strides to the liitle bookshelf, and he knelt to prod the books with damp fingers. The set of shelves contained an odd but well-organized collection of well-loved adventure novels, texts on poison and martial arts, and a set of shabby-looking scrolls. In a moment he had found the one he wanted--a elementary text on poisons. Hayate was no expert on toxins, but he was interested in the potential use of regular honey-bee venom as a poison.

Of course, his understanding and calculations went awry rather easily. Hayate was patient, but he had been working on this for at least an hour straight with only a very little progress. He flopped back on his bed with a resigned sigh, ignoring the ominous creak from the repaired leg. It always made noise, but hadn't collapsed yet.

Hayate set the book on the floor, and wriggled around to lay on his stomach, shoulders and head dangling off the side of the bed. He picked up his pencil again, automatically, and reached for the book. The pencil went right into his mouth to free up both hands to flip pages, and he started chewing on it without thinking.

Strangely enough, he found the silence nibbled away at his concentration. Hayate was not very social by nature, and he was just as happy by himself as he was with other people. Yet he had been living with his aunt for a full five years, and he was not used to being completely alone. His ears were habitually tuned to listen for Hachiko, making sure she stayed out of trouble, because when there was silence in the little house, trouble was brewing. While he knew this was no longer the case, he could not still the niggling of unease at the quiet.

He missed the cat, too, he realized, and bit harder on his pencil. His aunt's cat was fond of napping on Hayate, the more stationary member of the house, and as he stared at his notes and calculations he missed the warm, purring body that usually accompanied the task.

He was obviously, he realized, not going to get any more work done today.

He closed the book, spat his pencil out, and eyed the new teeth-marks with dismay. He tossed the pencil down and sat up again with a sigh, running his hands through his hair. He smiled wryly at the empty, silent room.

Who would've thought he'd feel lonely?

He laughed a little at himself. He'd always been the quiet child, the shy one, who hung back and was pleased to be left alone. He'd always been the one who got in trouble for slinking away to hide, just to be quiet. And now that he was alone, he was not content. He laughed at himself, because really, what else could he do?

"Hmm. It's not so late," he reasoned aloud, voice soft but breaking the silence just as well. "And I'm getting nowhere with this. I might as well go visit Hachiko-obaasan."

Decision made, he slithered off the bed and tidied up as he got ready to leave. There wasn't much to do, as he was a neat person by nature. He gathered up the ill-used pencil, notepad, and book before he marched out the door. He would probably think better with the little cat purring in his lap and Hachiko bustling about in the kitchen humming in her absent way.

He closed the door on the silent apartment and left it behind with a smile.