[ It's just one pain in the ass after another.
Wherever it is that Kakashi's been placed now, he lands there hard, catching his elbow against the edge of a wooden table as he falls, snapping his head back in time to narrowly keep his chin from smashing against the hard floor. The impact hurts, knocks the breath from his lungs and momentarily
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The surrounding area is nostalgic, and reminds Mukuro of ten years past, back when he was so much younger, though no more innocent than he is now, and with something like an amused sort of revelation, he wonders just how ironic it could be if it was indeed Kokuyo- but it's dark, dark enough that anything recognisable becomes too difficult to discern.
But here's something out of place-- a shock of white (or what was it? silver grey, excuse him) hair visible only by degrees, and damn it all if it isn't Hatake Kakashi.
Now, is this a stroke of luck, or something worse?
Mukuro takes a step down, stands a few scant feet away from Kakashi and doesn't move. ]
Did you take a wrong turn?
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Kakashi bites back a wince as he moves his hand up to his shoulder, pushing firmly against hard muscle and bone, gradually stretching his sore tendons as much as he can. That voice is as familiar as it always is, and Kakashi doesn't react to it initially. Mukuro's question is a valid one -- it's either luck or something else, but whatever it is, he's not particularly surprised by it.
A joint in his shoulder pops, and the hollow sound echoes as he finally glances over to where the other man is standing, not far from where he is. Mukuro's almost as dark as the black around them, but he can still make out that form, tall and lanky, terrifyingly strong in his own right but a skinny little bitch nonetheless. ]
Good question.
[ His fingers slip from his shoulder, hand dropping to rest next to his side. He's still not completely adjusted to the dark, and it's right then at that moment that he notices he's without his familiar. ]
Did you?
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Mukuro doesn't notice yet, the absence of Kakashi's little sparrow buddy, but since his flamingo's likewise missing, it should be safe to assume that they're no longer in Nuadoria- or at least, no place where their respective little animal pets are welcome. And Kakashi should be one to talk about weight- ]
What good are maps if you can't read them? [ It's difficult to tell in the dark, but here he is, drifting possibly a little too close for comfort to Kakashi.
Good thing he's not afraid of the dark. ]
Well, this is cozy.
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-before it's game over.
Yeah, Mukuro knows that, and he's done it once before, twice, but he's got nine lives like that damned proverbial cat, and Kakashi? He's that unknown factor, the x in an explosive compound. Better to keep an eye on him than simply let him run loose, right?
Though the fact remains, they're circling one another like sharks,
But if it's a waiting game, Mukuro has the patience for it. To bide it out and wait his time until that day when one of them snaps, and until then, he'll count down the minutes. The seconds, the weeks-- t-minus to. ]
Leaving so soon? [ There, he raises his hand from his side, curls his fingers briefly over his right eye and cocks his head at Kakashi, all slow smiles. ]
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[ Even as he says that, he's crossing over to the door, checking the handle, twisting it once -- it's locked. He tugs on it again, just to test it out, but it doesn't budge, and then he's glancing over his shoulder to where he'd left Mukuro, near the staircase.
There's something alarmingly simple about all of this. Kakashi doesn't want to kill Mukuro. Not really. Or -- maybe he does, just to be safe, just because he can't really trust that Mukuro is the sort of person who will better their ways, as Pain had before him. Mukuro is different, maybe just a little more complex, a little harder to read, and that's what makes him dangerous.
Amongst everything else.
The air is still cold and stale and heavy, and Kakashi stands there for a second or two, his back half to Mukuro, half to the wall behind him. He stands in brief silence, as if considering something, as if determining his next move. This isn't an ideal situation. This isn't even a preferable one.
But he has options. ]
How cold do you think I am? [ ( ... )
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How kind of you. [ Silly man, Mukuro's not afraid of the dark. But that's not what the gesture's for, is it? When you take someone like Kakashi (with so much to lose) and Mukuro (with everything to gain), what good would come out of it ( ... )
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Kakashi doesn't move, and he only glances down once when Mukuro's hand hovers over his own, over the glittering ball of energy held so delicately in the palm of his hand. He doesn't want to kill him, he doesn't, he doesn't know how many times he's told himself that, and it doesn't really help, it doesn't change anything.
Because, really, he kind of does.
And sometimes, he gets distracted, and it's hard for him to focus, he needs to fucking focus and think. Mukuro has it down, knows how it works, and Kakashi only gets part of it, only sees little glimpses, can't make out the full picture so he has to grope around blindly. Hold it. Steady. Think, but don't think too hard. ]
Aaa, really? [ The electricity sparks once, almost violently, and then it flickers, fading quietly before it abruptly goes out, right as Kakashi curls his fingers into his palm ( ... )
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There's a movement of body heat and Mukuro tilts his head towards Kakashi, closes his fingers around his arm- gently, nothing so crude as bruising. ] Watch your step. [ There's an audible creak when he shifts his weight, the floorboards speaking volumes. There's a double connotation in that single phrase, and Mukuro does love his little games. ]
You could hurt yourself, like that. [ The laughter's rising up in his voice, and his grip tightens momentarily, turns until they're nearly nose to nose, that's how close they are. ]
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For someone so cold, Mukuro is surprisingly warm, and the air, the atmosphere, around him is heavy like lead or cement, it weighs down on Kakashi's shoulders, on the back of his neck. He makes a noise low in his throat, something that could be acknowledgment, and lifts one hand toward Mukuro's side, and it hovers in the air, poised just inches from his jacket. ]
You should watch yours. [ The fingers of his other hand close tightly around one of the kunai at his belt as he tugs it free, and he leans into Mukuro, smiles faintly against his cheek, before he's moving to slam the blade toward his side ( ... )
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Maybe this isn't the city any longer after all, because the lacking feel of constraints makes his blood rush a little faster (surprise, surprise), and Mukuro was waiting for this. His mouth curls into a slow smile, all arsenic and snake eyes, and the weight of the trident falls into his hand. He leans against it lightly, and surveys Kakashi through the dark. ]
Oya, oya. [ A pause. ] Are you mistaking me for a monster in the dark, Hatake Kakashi?
[ The way he sounds, so absolutely fucking nonchalant, it's like Kakashi didn't really just try to gut him.
(You don't really think you'll win, do you?)
Mukuro continues lightly. ] Maybe you should turn the lights back on.
[ How much more would it take? At this point, it's mere child's play, and the trident's ( ... )
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Kakashi feels his hand pass through nothing, and he literally forces it to stop mid-swing, tensing his arm as both eyes move, focusing up away from the floorboards over to where Mukuro's standing. And there's that magical trident of his, of course, the slippery little bitch. Mukuro maybe doesn't have his speed, but he doesn't need it, not when he can do everything else that Kakashi decidedly can't.
The kunai slips through his fingers, and he's flipping it over in his hand, pressing the sharp edge of the blade against the inner curve of his wrist. His expression is still passive and calm and unassuming, but his muscles are laced with a thin layer of tension now, prepared, on guard.
And he wonders, for a moment, just how far he'll go, but he already knows the answer to that, and maybe Mukuro does too. Or maybe he doesn't, and maybe that's why he's playing around, pulling at wires without even really trying. ]
All right.
[ He's close to a window, and he reaches back ( ... )
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The light glances over him, bounces off the tines of his weapon where he's half set it against the wall, leaving it lax but close enough so that if-
Well, just in case, right? Because both of them are on edge now, and Mukuro thinks that maybe he'll push a little more. There's nothing else around for miles that could possibly be an interruption. ] Not at all. I'm sure it's an easy mistake to make.
[ The dark plays funny tricks on things. Mukuro hasn't stopped smiling, features half sunken by the traces of dark that linger, and he makes no move to shift out into the light. That brief escalation of tension's been momentarily eased away, Mukuro having given Kakashi a way out, of sorts, but for how long? How long of a reprieve is this, how long will it last? He's ( ... )
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Mistakes happen. They're bound to happen. But that's a mistake he shouldn't have really made, because he is human, yeah, he's as human as they come, but when you're dealing with someone who isn't really, it's best if you pretend that you're just as unphased as they are ( ... )
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When it comes to dealing with men like Kakashi, Mukuro's well acquainted with how they work-- don't show any cracks, don't break, and whatever you do, don't turn your back on the enemy. So how many of those has Kakashi broken? It doesn't really matter though, either way, to Mukuro, because he knows exactly how this will work. He'll crush Kakashi into little pieces and then grind them beneath his heel, that's what.
Because everytime, he's buried men of this level, hasn't he? In a place much like hell.
He looks up, half tips his head at him and his eyes flick back from Kakashi's face to his trident. Mukuro extends his hand, and closes it around the sharp edge of the weapon, hard enough to nearly slice through his gloves. ]
It'll be in good hands.
[ And in that same movement, Mukuro flips it, high ( ... )
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Kakashi only knows little bits and pieces of how Mukuro works, of how he's put together, and he's one of those crazy motherfuckers that'll pretend they aren't. Because he's so fucking good at everything he does, at everything he says, at talking like he knows what he's saying, like he gets the gravity of it, and maybe he does, but that doesn't make it any better. And Kakashi knows he can't really contain it, he can't box it up and make it shut the fuck up, so why does he even try ( ... )
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