∆ six ∆ [ video ]

[killer_yo_yo]

[shows grass, nothing -- then, Chikusa's head front and center in the screen. He fumbles for his glasses in the grass, the screen shaking as he does so. He finds them, puts them on, and everything becomes clear as the communicator is righted. He flexes his hand, frowning. He looks a little paler than usual. There is moisture in his eyes, and when

Comments

voice;

[withinthemist]

Oya~? So that is the price paid.

voice;

[killer_yo_yo]

...What?

voice;

[withinthemist]

Were I to explain it, kufufu~ You would not know it.

That child's toy.

voice;

[killer_yo_yo]

...You can have them.

voice;

[withinthemist]

How completely they have removed you, Chikusa. What frightful powers~

Leave them if you intend to move on. They belong to one who belongs to me.

voice;

[killer_yo_yo]

...Come get them, then.

voice;

[withinthemist]

And this is the path you choose to tread now~?

Then I suppose I have no choice but to come take them.

Re: voice;

[killer_yo_yo]

...I don't understand.

I will be at the fountain.

comment;

[withinthemist]

[The steps that approach the fountain are a rare public appearance, not that the one who waits there is apt to know. Mukuro knows -- he has known since before Chikusa left -- that there has been an exchange. For every degree of heat that Chikusa's body lost, his gained in return. But the gift of the deities is not limited to that, nor is the price.

Bi-coloured eyes spot the figure of his most loyal and reliable -- tool? servant? minion? the idea of friend brings a bittersweet amusement to his lips and he dismisses that thought. Chikusa is standing with the same dismissive pose he has known, but never to be displayed to him as it is.]

Kakimoto Chikusa.

[Mukuro holds out a gloved hand for the return of those weapons once held as an extension of Chikusa himself.]

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[killer_yo_yo]

...You know my name?

[He is wary of this stranger, who knows his name and says it with a strange smile. It's as if he knows him -- but Chikusa would have remembered someone like this. His memory is flawless, and his powers of observation no less perfect.

There is no reason why this man knows his name. He holds onto the toys tightly, just for another moment. They seem important, and if they're important to this man, he can extract some information in exchange.]

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[withinthemist]

[That cold smile holds a moment, a quirk to its edge can be caught. How new this feels, and how cruel it feels to look at that bland expression and not see Chikusa. Mukuro sees the same body, the same eyes, but the soul he reads within is void. Void of everything that they have seen and walked on their path, and it is a painfully human sensation he feels that he dislikes.]

An easy thing to read, kufufu~

[Mukuro raises his hand further, twisting it so that he can touch two fingers to the bar code tattooed on Chikusa's skin. A hint of how he knows, and all he knows.]

You cannot hide this information from one who knows how to read it. Will you learn this again, I wonder.

comment;

[killer_yo_yo]

[He is right, to hold out for information. But he's not expecting this stranger to touch him, touch the tattoo he's had for as long as he can remember -- against his will, he shivers, jerks away. But he feels a strange little tingle where the fingers once were, as though once upon a time, someone had touched him there before, and there had been a great deal of meaning behind it, a great deal of value.

It feels like this person is poisoning that meaning, whatever it once had been. His eyes narrow behind his spectacles, and he only notices now that one of the lenses is cracked.

Nothing seems to be going his way.]

You speak in riddles. [But he understands the words; they are like puzzles that Chikusa naturally knows how to unlock. But even with this skill, Chikusa cannot, for the life of him, figure out what this man is talking about.] Who are you?

comment;

[withinthemist]

[Mukuro flexes his fingers in the space Chikusa left, the insult of the motion held at bay -- a rare allowance -- for what the young man has given up to restore his life and powers to him. There is no shake to his hand as he draws it back to him, through his hair as he laughs.

First, it is slow. Simple amusement, but it grows in length and volume as he shakes his head and turns the red eye to Chikusa, the long-absent lines of six sharply visible.]

Kufufu, a new hand that fate has dealt us~! Replacing the king with a joker when no wild cards are in play. Novel cruelty~!

[He holds his hand out again, for the lethal 'toys' that Chikusa no long knows to possess.]

The yo-yo's, Chikusa.

[He ignores the question of name, ignores that odd reaction-- a rejection? -- that comes with it. Chikusa will know his name again, and will know his purpose. His use as a tool is not done. Mukuro will wait, and protect what is left more than he moved in the shadows to protect it before.]

comment;

[killer_yo_yo]

[Perhaps this man is crazy; laughing, at random times, touching strangers -- and it's clear, from that little speech stolen from a deck of cards, that he believes Chikusa is someone else. Someone, who is or was, perhaps, important to him. Chikusa is sure he is not that person.]

...Your name first.

[He doesn't care about the yo-yo's. The stranger can have them, for all he cares. But he wants to know the name, at least for future reference.

So in his fist he holds these round, primary coloured toys as hostages in exchange for words.]

comment;

[withinthemist]

[For his years and experience, Mukuro can still feel that possessive desire to have his will answered. It flares up in the face of unlikely opposition and his eyes narrow slightly. Chikusa is a follower, for all his independent strength. Chikusa is his follower, his disciple, but it is Chikusa that resists now.

A temptation, to force his will with the sixth path, is an idle stirring, but Mukuro has never used it on Chikusa -- or Chrome or Ken -- as he has on others. That is his pride his comfort in them,]

Memories, money~ Your wallet has been emptied of them. What a poor likeness you have become.

[Colder words as his smile hardens.]

Rokudou Mukuro.

comment;

[killer_yo_yo]

[If the Chikusa of yesterday could see himself now, he'd be horrified. But the Chikusa of yesterday is hidden within deity hands, and this blank slate is the only thing that's left.

Still impressionable. Still usable. But not the same.]

...You act like you knew me, once. [But of course, he's mistaken. Of course, this Rokudou Mukuro only knows someone who looks much like him. Though there's a nagging feeling: who else has this barcode on his cheek?]

...Well. Rokudou-san. You can have your friend's toys back. [He does not ask for money as he takes them both and presses them into Mukuro's outstretched palms.]