/SLUMP [Here be fics! =A=)/ ]
These three should have been posted with the last post I made with three stories. So... If you count the third fic post back or something. xD Anyway, these lacked an appropriate ending at the time so I couldn't polish it in time to post it, but here they are now and I can't fix it anymore. xP
(Mukuro's just fun to write....?)
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Angels and Demons
10069;
--
"Eat some." A voice coaxed, pressing the soft white confectionary against pale lips that refused to budge. "Come on, they're tasty."
Mukuro rolled his eyes (or eye, rather), and refused to move an inch, even with Byakuran standing behind him with a large bag of the dratted white candy, arms wound around him so they were pressed front to back and pressing the marshmallows against his lips irritatingly.
"Aww, why don't you like marshmallows? Don't you like sweet things?"
Mukuro waved his hand, brushing Byakuran's hand away from his mouth.
"I like chocolate, but I just don't like marshmallows."
"Hmm." Byakuran popped the marshmallow into his mouth and chewed as he watched, mesmerised, as Mukuro licked the layer of white flour off his lips (with that delectable tongue).
Mukuro glanced back at Byakuran and sighed. "How long are you going to keep me here?"
"As long as I want to, of course." Byakuran said off-handedly, but there was that glint in his eyes that dared Mukuro to rebel.
Mukuro knew he could not easily beat the snowy-haired man, and shook his head.
They were such opposites, it was hard to see why Byakuran seemed to have taken this strange attachment to him - or perhaps that was the reason Byakuran had. It was more obvious when they stood together, Mukuro dressed in black, Byakuran in white.
Then again, Byakuran's heart was a lot darker than his.
When he thought about it, it was rather attractive. Byakuran's darkness seemed to complement his nicely. Although he dressed himself in white like some angel, some saint, he was anything but. And Mukuro himself, well, he was known to be a demon.
When heaven and hell joined, what else could result but either chaos, or harmony? Either one neutrallising the other, or causing even greater disruption.
Well, he was alright with that. He was tired of the peace the Vongola preached anyway.
Perhaps they made a good match after all.
------------------------------------------------------------
Identity
6918;
--
Another day, another passing of the sun across the sky. The days seem mundane almost. Nothing seemed to happen anymore, and life had gone back into its usual rhythm. But somehow even beating up the rule-breakers in the school wasn't enough anymore.
What was with this absolute boredom?
Hibari stood at his vantage point from one of the many odd structures on the roof of the school. He didn't really know what they did, and it really had no bearing on him, so it seemed pointless to bother. At any rate, he knew if he asked Tetsu he could probably get an answer within the hour and that was good enough for him.
He blinked down now at the courtyard, taking note of the troublesome students that tried to sully his Namimori. Takahashi Sakura from Class 2-C swept some rubbish under a seat near the sporting oval instead of walking ten metres to the bin, Kazuya Akiyoshi from class 3-A cracked a window on the second floor as his basketball flew a little higher than he'd intended. Hibari would deal with those misfits later.
A sharp pain suddenly gripped his head and he staggered backwards from the edge and closed his eyes against the onslaught of it, pressing the heel of one hand to his forehead, frowning through the harsh pain which peaked then waned slowly, until it vanished suddenly, leaving him completely as though it were never there.
He straightened slowly. Something was wrong.
It was a feeling he constantly had these days. Ever since the headaches had started to plague him, they had grown in strength. At first, just a dull ache that persisted for hours, a thought nagging him from the edges of his mind; now it was short bursts of pain that sometimes lasted for minutes on end, something pressing on him from the edges of his mind, pressing on him to remember.
Remember what?
What was this sudden thought that he was trying to remember something? Something that he should have remembered. Something important. Something - or someone? - that at once both set a craving in him to see and a burning need to dicipline.
A flash of blue hair, a tuft of hair like the top of a pineapple, a wicked smile, mismatched red and blue eyes, the number six burning into his consciousness, dark green and red, a long metal trident.
He seemed to have forgotten something.
Something important. Something... precious?
But what?
------------------------------------------------------------
Serenity
6927;6918;
--
The room was quiet as the crowd gathered around the bed in which lay a still figure, long hair now dry and arranged neatly in a long bunch at one side and odd eyes hidden as they remained closed in sleep.
The inhabitants of the room were hushed, waiting for the return of their leader, who they had only seen in illusion over the past 10 years. For some, it was the first time they would see each other in the (real) flesh as Fran lounged in the doorway, easily ignoring the glares he recieved from Ken and M.M.
Chrome occupied the position of honour for the minute as she sat by his bedside - much to the fury of M.M. - and watched the still face breathing evenly in sleep.
"How is he?" a soft voice asked from the door as Tsunayoshi looked past Fran to glimpse the figure on the bed.
"Stable." Chikusa replied in his calm way. "He just needs to rest and restore his strength."
Tsuna nodded and left again, leaving the rest to their silent vigil.
Hours passed and people shifted, sitting on the long couch, staring out the window, sitting next to the bed, curling up on the floor if you were Ken, and finally, finally Mukuro's hand shifted on the bedcovers.
"Mukuro-sama!" The voice belonged to M.M. as she rushed over but was caught by Chikusa.
"Do not overwhelm him."
“Let go!”
The irritated look M.M. threw Chikusa spoke quite plainly she did not believe Mukuro could be overwhelmed, but she had forgotten of course, that the real Mukuro had been 'sleeping' in a prison of water for a decade.
The mismatched eyes opened and closed again as Mukuro frowned from the stabbing pain in his eyes at opening them again for the first time in a decade. It was luckily almost evening and the light which filtered in through the window was gentle and minimal.
"Someone go tell Boss that Mukuro-sama is awake." Chrome said quietly, and Fran pushed off from the wall. He gave his Master a nod as Mukuro opened his eyes again slowly and looked lingeringly at his student, and Fran left the room in search of Tsuna, leaving only the members of the original Kokuyo Gang left inside the room.
"How do you feel, Mukuro-sama?" M.M. had finally been released by Chikusa and gathered on the other side of the bed.
"I am not an invalid." Mukuro said firmly, his voice strong if nothing else, even though he had not spoken in years either. "So please, don't gather as though I am dying, M.M."
"Sorry, Mukuro-sama." M.M. looked abashed.
"I think... I will go back to sleep." Mukuro said slowly. "I have to replenish my energy."
Eyelids dropped down slowly over his mismatching eyes again and he slept quietly.
The air was less tense now that Mukuro had awoken once. Reassured that Mukuro would be fine, they drew the curtains around his bed and left to give him peace. As the door closed behind Chrome, who stopped to take a last look before leaving, a figure appeared at the window, slid it open silently and slipped into the (second storey) room.
The tall, lithe figure in the neat suit padded noiselessly to the bed where the curtains fluttered with the slight breeze from the opened window, and looked down at the sleeping figure just as quietly, as though happy to merely gaze upon the face he had not seen in so many years. Strangely, there was no aggression in his expression as there once might have been, only a wistful sadness.
“Mukuro?”
There was a light knock on the door and it swung open. Mukuro opened his eyes slowly and blinked sleepily. He smiled a ghost of his usual arrogant grin.
“Tsunayoshi.”
Tsuna's eyes fixed on the opened window as another slight breeze filtered in, ruffling the thin curtains around Mukuro's bed. Had someone been here?
Shaking his head, he walked over to his Mist Guardian.
“How are you feeling, Mukuro....”
Neither heard the quiet step of the man outside, underneath the window, as he nimbly slipped away.
------------------------------------------------------------
(Mukuro's just fun to write....?)
------------------------------------------------------------
Angels and Demons
10069;
--
"Eat some." A voice coaxed, pressing the soft white confectionary against pale lips that refused to budge. "Come on, they're tasty."
Mukuro rolled his eyes (or eye, rather), and refused to move an inch, even with Byakuran standing behind him with a large bag of the dratted white candy, arms wound around him so they were pressed front to back and pressing the marshmallows against his lips irritatingly.
"Aww, why don't you like marshmallows? Don't you like sweet things?"
Mukuro waved his hand, brushing Byakuran's hand away from his mouth.
"I like chocolate, but I just don't like marshmallows."
"Hmm." Byakuran popped the marshmallow into his mouth and chewed as he watched, mesmerised, as Mukuro licked the layer of white flour off his lips (with that delectable tongue).
Mukuro glanced back at Byakuran and sighed. "How long are you going to keep me here?"
"As long as I want to, of course." Byakuran said off-handedly, but there was that glint in his eyes that dared Mukuro to rebel.
Mukuro knew he could not easily beat the snowy-haired man, and shook his head.
They were such opposites, it was hard to see why Byakuran seemed to have taken this strange attachment to him - or perhaps that was the reason Byakuran had. It was more obvious when they stood together, Mukuro dressed in black, Byakuran in white.
Then again, Byakuran's heart was a lot darker than his.
When he thought about it, it was rather attractive. Byakuran's darkness seemed to complement his nicely. Although he dressed himself in white like some angel, some saint, he was anything but. And Mukuro himself, well, he was known to be a demon.
When heaven and hell joined, what else could result but either chaos, or harmony? Either one neutrallising the other, or causing even greater disruption.
Well, he was alright with that. He was tired of the peace the Vongola preached anyway.
Perhaps they made a good match after all.
------------------------------------------------------------
Identity
6918;
--
Another day, another passing of the sun across the sky. The days seem mundane almost. Nothing seemed to happen anymore, and life had gone back into its usual rhythm. But somehow even beating up the rule-breakers in the school wasn't enough anymore.
What was with this absolute boredom?
Hibari stood at his vantage point from one of the many odd structures on the roof of the school. He didn't really know what they did, and it really had no bearing on him, so it seemed pointless to bother. At any rate, he knew if he asked Tetsu he could probably get an answer within the hour and that was good enough for him.
He blinked down now at the courtyard, taking note of the troublesome students that tried to sully his Namimori. Takahashi Sakura from Class 2-C swept some rubbish under a seat near the sporting oval instead of walking ten metres to the bin, Kazuya Akiyoshi from class 3-A cracked a window on the second floor as his basketball flew a little higher than he'd intended. Hibari would deal with those misfits later.
A sharp pain suddenly gripped his head and he staggered backwards from the edge and closed his eyes against the onslaught of it, pressing the heel of one hand to his forehead, frowning through the harsh pain which peaked then waned slowly, until it vanished suddenly, leaving him completely as though it were never there.
He straightened slowly. Something was wrong.
It was a feeling he constantly had these days. Ever since the headaches had started to plague him, they had grown in strength. At first, just a dull ache that persisted for hours, a thought nagging him from the edges of his mind; now it was short bursts of pain that sometimes lasted for minutes on end, something pressing on him from the edges of his mind, pressing on him to remember.
Remember what?
What was this sudden thought that he was trying to remember something? Something that he should have remembered. Something important. Something - or someone? - that at once both set a craving in him to see and a burning need to dicipline.
A flash of blue hair, a tuft of hair like the top of a pineapple, a wicked smile, mismatched red and blue eyes, the number six burning into his consciousness, dark green and red, a long metal trident.
He seemed to have forgotten something.
Something important. Something... precious?
But what?
------------------------------------------------------------
Serenity
6927;6918;
--
The room was quiet as the crowd gathered around the bed in which lay a still figure, long hair now dry and arranged neatly in a long bunch at one side and odd eyes hidden as they remained closed in sleep.
The inhabitants of the room were hushed, waiting for the return of their leader, who they had only seen in illusion over the past 10 years. For some, it was the first time they would see each other in the (real) flesh as Fran lounged in the doorway, easily ignoring the glares he recieved from Ken and M.M.
Chrome occupied the position of honour for the minute as she sat by his bedside - much to the fury of M.M. - and watched the still face breathing evenly in sleep.
"How is he?" a soft voice asked from the door as Tsunayoshi looked past Fran to glimpse the figure on the bed.
"Stable." Chikusa replied in his calm way. "He just needs to rest and restore his strength."
Tsuna nodded and left again, leaving the rest to their silent vigil.
Hours passed and people shifted, sitting on the long couch, staring out the window, sitting next to the bed, curling up on the floor if you were Ken, and finally, finally Mukuro's hand shifted on the bedcovers.
"Mukuro-sama!" The voice belonged to M.M. as she rushed over but was caught by Chikusa.
"Do not overwhelm him."
“Let go!”
The irritated look M.M. threw Chikusa spoke quite plainly she did not believe Mukuro could be overwhelmed, but she had forgotten of course, that the real Mukuro had been 'sleeping' in a prison of water for a decade.
The mismatched eyes opened and closed again as Mukuro frowned from the stabbing pain in his eyes at opening them again for the first time in a decade. It was luckily almost evening and the light which filtered in through the window was gentle and minimal.
"Someone go tell Boss that Mukuro-sama is awake." Chrome said quietly, and Fran pushed off from the wall. He gave his Master a nod as Mukuro opened his eyes again slowly and looked lingeringly at his student, and Fran left the room in search of Tsuna, leaving only the members of the original Kokuyo Gang left inside the room.
"How do you feel, Mukuro-sama?" M.M. had finally been released by Chikusa and gathered on the other side of the bed.
"I am not an invalid." Mukuro said firmly, his voice strong if nothing else, even though he had not spoken in years either. "So please, don't gather as though I am dying, M.M."
"Sorry, Mukuro-sama." M.M. looked abashed.
"I think... I will go back to sleep." Mukuro said slowly. "I have to replenish my energy."
Eyelids dropped down slowly over his mismatching eyes again and he slept quietly.
The air was less tense now that Mukuro had awoken once. Reassured that Mukuro would be fine, they drew the curtains around his bed and left to give him peace. As the door closed behind Chrome, who stopped to take a last look before leaving, a figure appeared at the window, slid it open silently and slipped into the (second storey) room.
The tall, lithe figure in the neat suit padded noiselessly to the bed where the curtains fluttered with the slight breeze from the opened window, and looked down at the sleeping figure just as quietly, as though happy to merely gaze upon the face he had not seen in so many years. Strangely, there was no aggression in his expression as there once might have been, only a wistful sadness.
“Mukuro?”
There was a light knock on the door and it swung open. Mukuro opened his eyes slowly and blinked sleepily. He smiled a ghost of his usual arrogant grin.
“Tsunayoshi.”
Tsuna's eyes fixed on the opened window as another slight breeze filtered in, ruffling the thin curtains around Mukuro's bed. Had someone been here?
Shaking his head, he walked over to his Mist Guardian.
“How are you feeling, Mukuro....”
Neither heard the quiet step of the man outside, underneath the window, as he nimbly slipped away.
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