FIC: WISH - PROLOGUE
Title: Wish
Author: Chesiere Cat aka Hiyuura
Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn! © Amano Akira//xxxHolic © CLAMP
Pairing: Byakuran/Mukuro, Giotto/Mukuro
Rating: Overall M/MA (R/NC-17), PG-13 for now
Warning: BL, crossover, semi-au, yaoi
Summary: Byakuran’s past life was someone important to Mukuro. Only that Mukuro hates Byakuran because he reminds him of everything that was and everything that was not...until some wishes are granted. 10069, G69.
Note: (1) This story is inspired by the doujinshi game ALTOR; however, since the authoress has very little idea about what going on in the game, given that the version she had played was Chinese, the memory/relationship/interaction between Giotto (Vongola I) and Mukuro was made up with that game as a very loose base.
(2) This is a crossover with xxxHolic. The time-space witch, Ichihara Yuuko will make occasional appearance here. But there is no major role and the knowledge for the xxxHolic manga required to understand this fic aside from her being an old acquaintance of Mukuro.
“What do angels dream of?”
- Angeal Hewley, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Wish: Prologue
Castle in the Sky
Byakuran was seen as an ambitious individual, always dreaming of building a castle in the sky - dreaming of the impossible - even long before he ascended the title of the Gesso family boss, long before he had become the Millefiore King. He was perceived as someone always striving for something impossible…and sometimes intangible even if he always made it possible to grab in the end.
Simply, he was a man who always got what he wanted.
Whatever he desired.
Because of that, many people decided to follow him, worshipping him like some kind of an angel…or even god. He had so many dreams other people might deem senseless realized that sometimes it seemed impossible anymore that this pristine white angel…still dreamed.
When those ever-so piercing violet eyes closed, the white angel whose wings were, in fact, so bloody dreamed. He dreamed of different shades of colors, different kinds of visions and varieties of jumbled old memories - some of which were a little bit more than significant while most were not, for to him, past was mostly something unnecessary unlike the present and future…that he could seize and shape it with his own hands.
Yet between those two kinds of memory-like dreams, it seemed pretty difficult to distinguish which this stranger-than-most vision was, this dream he was having.
The dream came to him, bringing with it an odd familiarity that surprised him even further with meaningful nostalgia - the nostalgia he didn’t think he could actually feel - for it was like an old memory resurfacing yet it wasn’t his own.
There was a young boy whose one eye was so blue as if staring deep into cloudless sky while the other was kept hidden by an eye-patch.
Still, it was so vivid as it unfurled itself from the wicked tangle that was called…a ‘lifetime’.
There was a boy too young but never once letting himself be seen crying.
Byakuran hated this dream. Hated it even more as he learned it wouldn’t go or fade away as it kept repeating itself over and over…with the same beautiful shades that were more colorful than all those petals of flowers he knew he could easily crush. He hated waking up in the middle of the night just to find the circle of his arms empty, the once vivid colors rusty, and the laughter in his dream silent just because he knew these were the only things he could not really grasp.
He remembered so well finding him among the delightful colors of one summer morning, sleeping like death in the gentle cradle of Mother Nature, staying so still even in the sweet presence of those strong fragranced lilacs. He hid there so well but never really blending…like a mist that concealed itself just to linger there before the sun found it.
It never stayed once he woke up but lingered there just long enough to make him desperately yearn before leaving him starved with an ugly pang of envy.
“My home…can be your home…even if you first hate it.”
“…Why?”
“Because…”
It was not these hands that were able to touch. It was not these arms that embrace that lithe, beautiful body in its reach. And it was not this body, this name that those rosy lips spoke to.
“No one deserves to be unhappy.”
Because Byakuran hated such tantalized feeling…
“Now why don’t you tell me your real name?”
Because he was used to getting what he wanted…
“…You think you can fool me but you can’t.”
He only grabbed…
“No, I don’t.”
That one name he definitely knew.
“I told you it’s Mukuro.”
Mukuro. The name of the Vongola’s mist guardian - that beautiful and ever elusive entity who played with him the most dangerous game without losing confidence. Was it out of mere fascination that he let the Vongola’s mist escape even as he had successfully trapped him in the last minute? Was it really out of his curiosity to just wait and see what new game the blue haired-beauty would initiate to retaliate him?
“Kufufu. You’ll regret this, Byakuran-san.”
Or was it…something more?
That sudden twinge of unnamed feeling…
They shared no bond, no love but a competition. Just because they knew there were no other players as interesting and playful as each other, for they both detested boring toys even if their lips were all smiling.
These dreams he was having after letting the mismatched eyed beauty go…
Violet eyes narrowed as they drifted toward the window. Their coldness rivaled that of the pale white moon itself. He had no need to build a castle in the sky.
You’re mine, Mukuro-kun.
Just because he was the sky himself.
The stubborn youth smiled mischievously before immediately sprinting away - quicker than the older man could utter the word ‘stop’. “You can’t catch me, Giotto. Because your beloved home is too big.”
“I’ll catch you.”
-
“You can’t catch me, Giotto. Because your beloved home is too big.”
The sentence rang over and over as the little boy darted quickly down the seemingly endless corridors. The scenery changed as he ran past each successive window that reflected different eras of the world. And as he finally reached one at the very end as of the moment - for it will extend as long as the age of living eternity - the figure standing there was no longer of a little boy but of a fully grown man whose eyes were now visibly of mismatched colors.
One so blue like the cloudless sky and one so red like an eerily shining ruby.
Slowly, yet without looking back, one slender hand reached out to open the bronze framed window. Long, dark lashes lowered slightly as it opened to show a path illuminated with bright light. Without any more hesitation - seeing that the hallway behind him started to fade…
Now a certain someone is waking up.
He stepped into the bright light.
-
Unfortunately, the other side of the window was not as bright as the path he took. For the only light that illuminated the dark gray sky was that of the rolling lightning as thunder madly rumbled.
It was raining.
“Hurry up, Watanuki, will you? I really want to eat some onigiri tonight.” A woman with long, flowing raven hair demanded, standing with a hand on her narrowed hip in all her evil-to-Watanuki glory.
“But Yuuko-san, it’s raining!” The teenager proclaimed his protest, which was immediately turned down with a poke of an umbrella in his chest.
“Now the problem is solved. Hurry up.” She said with an air of finality. And the boy, despite not liking the idea of this, was forced to admit his usual defeat. No one, especially him, could deny Yuuko-san, if she really wanted it. Sighing, Watanuki accepted the umbrella and left to buy the things that were needed. Not without complaining, though.
Mukuro watched in silence until the boy was gone that he finally uttered:
“I see you’re still fond of using other people.”
The woman smiled, turning to face him. She had already known that he’d come. “I could have said the same for you.”
Mukuro chuckled. “It has been…quite some time, hasn’t it?”
“I thought you’d visit sooner.”
The beautiful man cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”
She looked at him and for one moment, her smile faded…only to be replaced again the next second as her eyes drifted toward the dark gray sky.
“…Because now you know it’s him.”
TBC
Frankly, I don’t even need Yuuko for the plot here but I am curious as to see her interact with Mukuro so I just threw her in there and tweaked the plot a bit so that she can fit in and does not ruin the whole KHRness.
Because this fic has nothing to really do with xxxHolic’s storyline, I’m not putting it in the crossover section.
The Prologue is, as always, short. But I promise the next chapter will be longer. And I will try with all my 10069 loving will that this story will be finished. So please drop me a review if you’d kindly like because I must shamelessly admit…I’m a feedback monster. ^^;;
Thank you in advance,
Chesiere