khrfest: Mukuro | Lancia
so, the prompt was: Lancia, Mukuro - regret; "somewhere along the line, Mukuro couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed at what he'd done". guess i pretty much failed.
title from a song by Placebo.
'bite the hand that feeds, tap the vein that bleeds'
Lo! the pale criminal hath bowed his head: out of his eye speaketh the great contempt.
Friedrich Nietzsche “Thus Spake Zarathustra”
By the time he got rid of the scientists, the child knew he needed someone strong at his side. Yes, Estraneo were doomed already, but they’d be searching fervently for whoever destroyed their most promising lab. There was still time to catch him before they were eradicated completely, and using his power was still so very hard and painful and he didn’t want to attract attention himself that soon. He would become known inevitably, but for now he needed time adjust and hone his newfound (remembered, some part of his soul corrected) powers.
“What will you do now?” asked the smaller boy, dark-haired and serious. The other one with a scar across his face seemingly had difficulty speaking; they were doing something about his teeth, he remembered, something concerning animals…
“Kill the rest here,” he simply answered.
“And then?” the somber one persisted. He was something useful too, the child recalled, very sharp even if he lacked emotion. None of the subjects here were normal, after all. Not anymore, at least.
“Anything,” he smiled again. “What are your names?”
Not surprisingly, they didn’t remember, so he had to give them ones. He chose Japanese - it was the place he hailed from, once, the country he felt as much as home as he ever could now. Six Realms wiped him clean and pieced together anew, his story, his power, his Six Paths to liberation. He can never be a child, a human again.
“And I from now on will be Rokudou Mukuro.”
Because being alive is no big deal for him anymore*.
He finds him in Northern Italy among the ranks of a second-hand Family with traditions and pride and rules - such a perfect arrangement for a tragedy. Apparently they made a habit of picking up strays; it is a very useful practice, Mukuro notes, even if tedious and time-consuming, for acquiring future soldiers with unwavering loyalty. Just look at him. He thinks himself indebted to the boss, when it is obviously mafia who got the better end of the deal. Who got much more than they deserved.
What’s your name, kid? Any Japanese would’ve been suspicious*, hearing such an answer, but Lancia just nods and offers a hand.
No, that man is positively wasted on them. Mukuro will set him free from that organization - just to have Lancia for himself.
So he takes on the task of shaping his guardian, his perfect protector. It is such fine entertainment at first: all the smiles, the whispers, unguarded glances and tip-toeing around the “clearly abused child”. All the attentive care that fool gives him without a second thought.
It’s sweet**.
He almost doesn’t want it to end.
“Why?” he asks in the rare moments of clarity, when either of them needs a respite. Those times getting even shorter now; Mukuro can’t stand him free for long, but he cannot hold him on tight leash constantly. Not yet at least.
“They were holding you back.”
“You’re lying.”
“I need you.”
“A monster like you doesn’t need anyone.”
It’s almost annoying how sharp he’s gotten. He liked him as a doting parent more. Almost enough to miss.
“I don’t depend on anyone,” Mukuro corrects. “But I want you to protect me. There is no one for you to return to, but you still can be my older brother.”
Lancia’s face relaxes, as the madman gets solid a grip on his mind again. Yes, he agrees, if you say so.
Mukuro is malevolent, Mukuro is ancient, Mukuro knows all there is about existence - and at the same time Mukuro still is a boy of eleven. He wants to be loved. He wants Lancia’s attention. He still enjoys being spoiled rotten.
For some reason, this Realm of men never gives him what he wants.
Years go by, blood flows out and turns into dust. Lancia becomes his perfect shield, his double, even if he’s still not willing. If Mukuro can’t use his love, he’ll settle for his guilt. Finally, when he feels the time is right, the plan is set into motion -all comes crashing down.
Sawada Tsunayoshi happens to them.
[hold your hands out to the living]
No amount of time would be enough to forget, no such mercy in human heart enough to forgive Mukuro, the boy whom he once loved like his own family and hated just as fiercely for years after. But he’d made peace with the past and thinks himself content with simply living.
Someone came looking for you, the confectioner next door informs him one day, years since. Lancia is genuinely puzzled. While not being officially tied to, he takes assignments for CEDEF from time to time, but they always contact him beforehand.
“Came? Was it anyone suspicious?” although he’d met with the families of his victims, it wouldn’t be the first time someone wanted revenge. And signora, being his closest neighbor, is vaguely aware of his shady past, if not his current dealing with Vongola.
Oh, no, she waves with some sort of conspiratorial air, it was a young lady! An Asian little thing, very polite and pretty too, despite her eye. I would’ve introduced her to my boy, were he home, but she departed right away when I said you were not in town. Left a note, she did. Pray tell, where did you meet such a lovely signorina?..
He is positive he’s never met the woman in question, but takes the note anyway. It’s shockingly simple, not even an envelope that could contain danger, just a sheet of paper folded two times over. It read in Japanese:
‘How have you been, older brother?’
* ‘Mukuro’ means “corpse”. Literally. And the kanji is in the list of characters prohibited to be used in names - for obvious reasons.
** “Sweet” in Japanese means both the flavor and ‘naïve’.