hearts in chains: iii
I read chapter 301 earlier today, and young Spanner is SO CUTE. Man. I just want to give him a big fat freaking hug. But, onto other news. It's Friday! Thanks to anyone who's reading this, and comments are love. ^^
Hearts In Chains
Falling
Every day I’m alive in the city
She’s a fire woman lit by the sun
On the street looking fine, looking pretty
She sucks the heat off my…gun.
“In The City”
-Kevin Rudolf
His eyes were half-open, and he was aware that his stomach was probably going to make noise soon if he didn’t do something. But he couldn’t. He was exhausted.
And then, a girl came down the stairs. At first, he’d wanted to tense up, because she looked so much like his captor himself, but at a second glance, he realized that the only they had in common was the hairstyle. Her aura exhibited one of concern and gentleness, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was back at home, with his silver-haired guardian fussing over him about every little thing.
Her hands were cold, the sign of a warm soul. She slowly untied the twine that had been keeping the sock in his mouth, and waited for him to cough the thing out, clutching his raw throat carefully. “Hold on,” She seemed to whisper her words with a furrow in her brow, her deep eyes darting back and forth between this young man and the doorway before she flitted out.
Tsuna forced himself to sit up, and he rubbed his aching sides slowly, trying not to aggregate his wounds and soothe them all at the same time. After sitting there, feeling so useless, he tried to force himself to stand. The motion made his knees fail, and he fell to a heap on the marble floor, wincing. He used his elbow on the chair to steady himself, trying once again to stand up, or, at the least, get back into his sitting position. He made it halfway up before falling back into the seat, and he let his head fall onto the table, genuinely frustrated at his situation.
Then, the girl returned. Although he though ‘girl’ because she looked like a frightened child, it was probably closer to say that she was around his own age, judging by her curves and the absence of baby fat in her face. “Lord Mukuro injected a poison of sorts into you,” She said quietly, her arms full of first aid equipment and a syringe in her left hand full of a clear liquid. “Rest. I’ll give you the antidote. It won’t work for a while, however.”
He said nothing, preferring to watch her work. She took a cotton swab and put what smelled like rubbing alcohol on his forearm before turning the syringe upside down, giving it a couple of taps to make sure that there were no bubbles inside, and then inserted it where she’d put the alcohol. It stung a little, but compared to this morning, it was as if a fly had landed on his arm. Once the container was empty, she took her practically limp patient and undressed him to his underwear, seemingly without the usual amount of shame girls her age had concerning matters like this. Tsuna could only watch with glazed amber eyes, the medicine making him drowsier than he had been. She seemed to put a salve on his wounds that worked wonders, and bandaged the rough, large cuts in his flesh. She even bandaged his head and face, and his ankles, where Mukuro had dug his heels into them.
“…Name,” The caramel-haired youth rasped out, his voice sounding foreign under its strain. “What’s…your name?”
“Nagi,” She said quietly, her pale little fingers wrapping the bandages, as would an expert. The only way to learn that was through experience…he scowled at the idea of such a kind young woman being exposed to such violence in her everyday life.
He tried his best to keep his eyes open, but the next thing he knew, his head was falling into a cool arm.
…
He stared at the white-haired young man, and he grew frustrated, lost for words. The blonde, short-haired man let out a heavy sigh and put a hand to his temple. “How could this have happened…I leave for two weeks, and then this…”
“We need you back at Headquarters,” Ryohei said quietly, clenching his fists tightly. “Everything’s going to be thrown into chaos if we don’t hurry up and find a lead.”
The man seemed to think for a long time, trying to shut out his expected panic. Who would do something like this? There’s so many possibilities…Tsuna was supposed to take the throne in only a few weeks. It was supposed to be secret from everyone so far, except for the close family.
His brown eyes lit up with a dangerous glint, and the youth listening to him seemed to straighten up, waiting for what he said. “I have an idea,” He muttered lowly, sounding not at all happy about his revelation. “But if I’m right, a full-scale war might break out when we try to get him back.”
“Maybe we should take this somewhere, then,” The Japanese youth said quietly, making the man take note of exactly where they were. He nodded in agreement, and they headed for someplace they knew they could talk safely-a home in this country the family had purchased for visits and old times’ sake.
…
When he awoke, it was to the scent of something foreign to his nose, which was used to both Japanese and Italian food. He forced his bleary eyes to open and looked to the stove, where he’d found that same girl from earlier. She looked to be straining to cook whatever it was she was making correctly. He continued to watch, blinking slower than was normal. He took another deep breath, and was relieved to find that he could move his fingertips. Slowly, daintily, he forced his head to go up from its position on the table, flexed his thin fingers, and rubbed the backs of his hands carefully.
It was another fifteen minutes or so before she came to the table, leaving two plates of food covered and to the side of the kitchen, putting four plates on a tray, and placing the other two on the table, one in the seat at the other end of it, and one in front of him. “You can go ahead. I have to take this to Lord Mukuro and a couple of others.” She bowed her head a bit and scuffled off, the sound of her boots against the wooden floor of the halls echoing behind her for a while.
He stared it, and eventually found that this was curry-not the Japanese kind, but the Indian kind. With a fond smile, he wondered when the last time he’d had this dish was. Trying to take his bandaged hands into account, he picked up the spoon gingerly, scooping the rice and chicken together nicely. He took a bite and smiled quietly. It wasn’t by any means delicious, but he could tell how hard she’d worked to even make it this quality, and ate it slowly, treasuring every bite. He had no idea when the next time his captor would feed him would be, anyhow.
…
“That’s not good news at all,” The teen gasped, his face set in a downtrodden frown. “Notorious, and only seven of them? Not to mention, it’s believed that they’re in cohorts with another, much larger family?” Ryohei looked anything but positive. “Besides, what’ve they got against us?”
“Not us in particular,” Iemitsu muttered, looking his age more than ever in this moment, flicking out his cell phone so that he could deliver the news to Headquarters. “To royalty in general.”
His eyes seemed far away as the call went through, and he spoke to the Ninth tenderly, trying his best not to upset the man, but with news like this, it was hardly useful to worry about such things. “Sir? I think I have an idea as to who might’ve captured Tsuna.”
When he explained things to the old man, he seemed to have the life drained out of him, and he slowly hung up, sighing as he prepared to tell Reborn the news.
…
She came back down the stairs when the steam from the heat of the food had lessened quite a bit, but took her seat without a word.
“You can sit closer, you know,” Tsuna said with a smile, genuinely inviting her. It could be said that he wanted company himself, but it didn’t make any sense to him for her to have to sit by herself down there. “I promise, I don’t bite.”
Nagi giggled a little at his sarcasm, and, like a mouse, scuffled over to him, sitting in the seat closest to their ‘guest’. “Lord Mukuro doesn’t usually allow us to sit so close.”
“Why’s that?” Tsuna wondered quietly, trying to eat in between sentences.
“Mostly because they’ll all start fighting if we do,” The girl replied, eating her curry with little to no noise as well. “He’s always thinking of us, even if he never says it.”
I doubt that, He thought skeptically, but this girl here seemed to trust the man that had tortured him, and he wondered what, exactly, he had done to earn that trust. “How old are you, Ms. Nagi?”
“Seventeen,” She replied in her same little quiet voice. One year younger than me, then. “Also, just call me ‘Chrome’,” She smiled a little, feeling comfortable with him. “It’s a nickname of sorts. Just Chrome.”
“If that’s how it is, call me Tsuna, then,” He smiled a bright, honest smile. “Just Tsuna.”
…
“Iemitsu said that?” Reborn scowled deeply, refusing to believe this so easily. “There’s no way. We killed him years ago.”
“Correction,” The Ninth said breathlessly, straining to say every word. “We thought we killed him years ago. But now that this has happened, you can’t rule out the possibility, can you?”
“Damn it,” He fumed, his foot tapping against the floor through his leather loafers. “Damn it! Of all the times to reveal himself…he sure got us.”
“Reborn,” His boss breathed out, a calming smile on his face, knowing well that his best hitman would not react well to what he had to say next. “You cannot go this mission alone. Either you get the Varia to go with you or you don’t go at all.”
“That’s ridiculous,” The black-haired man muttered angrily. “You, of all people, know how much they can’t stand Tsuna.”
His old eyes turned from wise and kind to deadly at a moment’s notice. “You will convince, I’m sure, if you’re this determined to go.”
“…Fine,” He said, then strolled out, shooting a glare just as lethal back at his boss, his frustration seeping out of his pores. Timoteo leaned back into his pillows and sighed.
…
As the sun was beginning to go down, Tsuna sighed. Chrome had directed him to a sitting room full of books he’d never even seen before, and he was to stay there until Mukuro beckoned. However, the longer he sat there in silence, the more he realized that this could potentially turn into a disaster. No matter how much he didn’t trust the master of this house, he couldn’t let innocents, like Chrome, and the other few servants that lived here, die in a war, which was exactly what this would become if he didn’t figure out some way to diffuse the situation.
Escaping is apparently futile, because I’m outnumbered. Fighting isn’t much of an option in that respect, either…well, it could be. But too many causalities in that case. To someone who hated killing and hated death, one loss was too many.
Then it came to him. It wouldn’t be pretty, and he was taking a chance with less than a five percent chance of survival. But he had an idea, through his observations throughout the day, of exactly what Mukuro was, and thus how he could defeat him at his own game.
…
“Well, nothing’s going to change by sitting here, looking stupid,” Reborn was furious after getting the news and being allowed to do next to nothing, but refused to raise his voice with the long-haired swordsman, whipping out his gun in what would have been a menacing gesture, had the other party not been so used to this kind of treatment. “My boss overrules your boss, and he-even from his damn sickbed-gave you fools orders to go follow the fucking lead.”
“Xanxus says the fucking brat got what he fucking deserved,” Squalo snapped back, just as pissed off, although he was loud and angry about it. “And I, for one, agree with him! If the pissy brat knew this was gonna happen, he should’ve tried to stop it beforehand!”
The words made everyone in the room tense up, but the gray-eyed man cared little for the killing intent of snot-nosed brats he’d had a hand in bringing up himself. “Fine. See what I care. As long as you’re wiped out, I guess there’ll be no opposition to us doing it, since the Varia is, apparently, now made up of a bunch of fucking incompetents.”
“Voi!! That has nothing to do with this!” He growled, the sword that was always on his person, and was actually attached to his arm, hidden in the trademark long-sleeved suit of the Special Forces unit. “If anything, you should be taking responsibility!”
“Will you all just shut up?!” The only person in the room no one had expected to speak up on matters, Xanxus himself, was growing annoyed with all of this stupid chitter-chatter taking place. “If we go do this fucking job for that trash, I’ll be expecting full compensation, and your presence,” He growled, his red eyes strained into a glare at the hitman, who was returning it with full force. “We are going to the front lines for your fucking brat.”
“Fine,” Reborn agreed, a scowl set darkly on his face. The rest of the guardians waited, knowing that whatever came next could not have possibly been worse news. “But you brats have to stay here. In the event that Tsuna’s attacker returns, or demands a ransom, you must intercept him at all costs.”
Gokudera, probably the most frustrated by this news, bit his lip until it drew blood, and dug his fingers into his palms, doing the same. But he knew the hitman was right, and as his subordinate, he could not argue with his demands. Next to him, Yamamoto looked just as ready to kill something or someone, his killing aura seeping out of his pores. The only person that kept the two of them tame was missing, and that being the case, they were ready to step into the fray and fight for him back.
…
“We should just kill them all,” The blonde one said, a furious scowl on his face. While he looked feral, something about his hair sticking at all angles, barely held in place by ten or twenty bobby pins, made him seem ever more dangerous.
“Lord Mukuro said not to,” His companion murmured quietly, although he thought the same thing. He couldn’t wait until this whole ordeal was over. “Is everyone in place?”
“Looks like it,” The young man spat out, resisting the urge to crush something. “That idiot girl is watching the captive while Mr. Mukuro bathes, too, so everything back at the base is clear as well.”
“…You’ll be punished for not paying attention, Ken,” The youth wearing a white winter hat muttered, and tensed up. He stood slowly, flexing his fingers to deal with the incoming enemy. “They’re here.”
“Finally!” He growled, pulling something from the inside of his coat and baring his fangs at the trespassers of their property.
…
“Hmmm,” He mused to himself, lounging on the couch lazily, daintily stirring the tea until the ten sugar cubes he’d put in it dissolved. “So, it’s finally started, has it?”
“My Lord,” A redhead stood in the doorway, bowing to him in respect.
“Stop that, lovely,” The man smiled widely, clapping his hands together in amusement. “How is our toy?”
The other man scowled, for there was nothing else to do but accept his master’s treatment. “Your ‘toy’ is doing just fine. He’s looking a bit thin, though.”
“Well then,” He chirped amusedly, then his voice was suddenly dark and serious, but his smile didn’t leave his face. “Fix it.”
“I-Immediately, sir,” And the redhead scurried off.
He settled back in his chair with a little hum, back to stirring his tea before he took a long sip. “Now then,” After his sip, he put the cup down and folded his hands in his lap. “Let the games begin.”
…
The sun was almost set when he entered the room, giving it an eerie feeling of loneliness when he set foot in there, treading the ground cautiously. He was breaking customs and house tradition, entering the room uninvited, but he could scarcely care for that now. Besides, it was a new age. No need for stuffy old rules, he thought, but as he entered, he wondered if perhaps he should turn tail now. However, the young man steeled his resolve and stepped in confidently, striding over until he was right next to the young lord lounging on the windowsill.
“Hello, Tsunayoshi,” The youth with long hair purred, his voice lovely and polite. His odd-colored eye glinted in the eve, and he resisted the urge to let that chill in his spine make him shudder. “How might I help you this evening?”
“Mukuro,” He started, his voice firm and ready. “I’m here to surrender to you. I hereby grant you full permission to control my body as you see fit.”
His eyes seemed to widen first.
Then, suddenly, he burst into a maniacal sort of laughter. “So, you had figured me out earlier. I was wondering why your dreams were so hard to enter. You have a defense.” He stood slowly, his robes falling off of his thin, pale shoulders, held up only by his right hand. “Hmm, interesting. However, you’re willingly granting me permission, knowing well that I’m not trustworthy, and what I wish to do with it?”
Tsuna didn’t know. He was taking so many chances-too many chances…and yet, there were no other options. This was the only way. It was a long and dangerous road he was sticking his thin little legs onto, but he just knew that something good would come of this, no matter what.
Bright caramel eyes shined up at him, and he only said one word.
“Yes.”
A delighted smile split the young lord’s face.
A/N: And the plot thickens even more. (I know, I stop at awful places. P:)
Chapter 4 Preview:
“Why?” He found his lips betraying him anyways, his eyes sharp as he stared at the boy. His question was loaded. Why are you doing this? Why aren’t you afraid of being broken? Why is it you? Why are you so young?
As if he were a mind reader, the boy simply smiled and said, “If I don’t, everyone I love could die, and then I’d become someone I don’t want to become.
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ff.net
chapter catalogue
Hearts In Chains
Falling
Every day I’m alive in the city
She’s a fire woman lit by the sun
On the street looking fine, looking pretty
She sucks the heat off my…gun.
“In The City”
-Kevin Rudolf
His eyes were half-open, and he was aware that his stomach was probably going to make noise soon if he didn’t do something. But he couldn’t. He was exhausted.
And then, a girl came down the stairs. At first, he’d wanted to tense up, because she looked so much like his captor himself, but at a second glance, he realized that the only they had in common was the hairstyle. Her aura exhibited one of concern and gentleness, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was back at home, with his silver-haired guardian fussing over him about every little thing.
Her hands were cold, the sign of a warm soul. She slowly untied the twine that had been keeping the sock in his mouth, and waited for him to cough the thing out, clutching his raw throat carefully. “Hold on,” She seemed to whisper her words with a furrow in her brow, her deep eyes darting back and forth between this young man and the doorway before she flitted out.
Tsuna forced himself to sit up, and he rubbed his aching sides slowly, trying not to aggregate his wounds and soothe them all at the same time. After sitting there, feeling so useless, he tried to force himself to stand. The motion made his knees fail, and he fell to a heap on the marble floor, wincing. He used his elbow on the chair to steady himself, trying once again to stand up, or, at the least, get back into his sitting position. He made it halfway up before falling back into the seat, and he let his head fall onto the table, genuinely frustrated at his situation.
Then, the girl returned. Although he though ‘girl’ because she looked like a frightened child, it was probably closer to say that she was around his own age, judging by her curves and the absence of baby fat in her face. “Lord Mukuro injected a poison of sorts into you,” She said quietly, her arms full of first aid equipment and a syringe in her left hand full of a clear liquid. “Rest. I’ll give you the antidote. It won’t work for a while, however.”
He said nothing, preferring to watch her work. She took a cotton swab and put what smelled like rubbing alcohol on his forearm before turning the syringe upside down, giving it a couple of taps to make sure that there were no bubbles inside, and then inserted it where she’d put the alcohol. It stung a little, but compared to this morning, it was as if a fly had landed on his arm. Once the container was empty, she took her practically limp patient and undressed him to his underwear, seemingly without the usual amount of shame girls her age had concerning matters like this. Tsuna could only watch with glazed amber eyes, the medicine making him drowsier than he had been. She seemed to put a salve on his wounds that worked wonders, and bandaged the rough, large cuts in his flesh. She even bandaged his head and face, and his ankles, where Mukuro had dug his heels into them.
“…Name,” The caramel-haired youth rasped out, his voice sounding foreign under its strain. “What’s…your name?”
“Nagi,” She said quietly, her pale little fingers wrapping the bandages, as would an expert. The only way to learn that was through experience…he scowled at the idea of such a kind young woman being exposed to such violence in her everyday life.
He tried his best to keep his eyes open, but the next thing he knew, his head was falling into a cool arm.
…
He stared at the white-haired young man, and he grew frustrated, lost for words. The blonde, short-haired man let out a heavy sigh and put a hand to his temple. “How could this have happened…I leave for two weeks, and then this…”
“We need you back at Headquarters,” Ryohei said quietly, clenching his fists tightly. “Everything’s going to be thrown into chaos if we don’t hurry up and find a lead.”
The man seemed to think for a long time, trying to shut out his expected panic. Who would do something like this? There’s so many possibilities…Tsuna was supposed to take the throne in only a few weeks. It was supposed to be secret from everyone so far, except for the close family.
His brown eyes lit up with a dangerous glint, and the youth listening to him seemed to straighten up, waiting for what he said. “I have an idea,” He muttered lowly, sounding not at all happy about his revelation. “But if I’m right, a full-scale war might break out when we try to get him back.”
“Maybe we should take this somewhere, then,” The Japanese youth said quietly, making the man take note of exactly where they were. He nodded in agreement, and they headed for someplace they knew they could talk safely-a home in this country the family had purchased for visits and old times’ sake.
…
When he awoke, it was to the scent of something foreign to his nose, which was used to both Japanese and Italian food. He forced his bleary eyes to open and looked to the stove, where he’d found that same girl from earlier. She looked to be straining to cook whatever it was she was making correctly. He continued to watch, blinking slower than was normal. He took another deep breath, and was relieved to find that he could move his fingertips. Slowly, daintily, he forced his head to go up from its position on the table, flexed his thin fingers, and rubbed the backs of his hands carefully.
It was another fifteen minutes or so before she came to the table, leaving two plates of food covered and to the side of the kitchen, putting four plates on a tray, and placing the other two on the table, one in the seat at the other end of it, and one in front of him. “You can go ahead. I have to take this to Lord Mukuro and a couple of others.” She bowed her head a bit and scuffled off, the sound of her boots against the wooden floor of the halls echoing behind her for a while.
He stared it, and eventually found that this was curry-not the Japanese kind, but the Indian kind. With a fond smile, he wondered when the last time he’d had this dish was. Trying to take his bandaged hands into account, he picked up the spoon gingerly, scooping the rice and chicken together nicely. He took a bite and smiled quietly. It wasn’t by any means delicious, but he could tell how hard she’d worked to even make it this quality, and ate it slowly, treasuring every bite. He had no idea when the next time his captor would feed him would be, anyhow.
…
“That’s not good news at all,” The teen gasped, his face set in a downtrodden frown. “Notorious, and only seven of them? Not to mention, it’s believed that they’re in cohorts with another, much larger family?” Ryohei looked anything but positive. “Besides, what’ve they got against us?”
“Not us in particular,” Iemitsu muttered, looking his age more than ever in this moment, flicking out his cell phone so that he could deliver the news to Headquarters. “To royalty in general.”
His eyes seemed far away as the call went through, and he spoke to the Ninth tenderly, trying his best not to upset the man, but with news like this, it was hardly useful to worry about such things. “Sir? I think I have an idea as to who might’ve captured Tsuna.”
When he explained things to the old man, he seemed to have the life drained out of him, and he slowly hung up, sighing as he prepared to tell Reborn the news.
…
She came back down the stairs when the steam from the heat of the food had lessened quite a bit, but took her seat without a word.
“You can sit closer, you know,” Tsuna said with a smile, genuinely inviting her. It could be said that he wanted company himself, but it didn’t make any sense to him for her to have to sit by herself down there. “I promise, I don’t bite.”
Nagi giggled a little at his sarcasm, and, like a mouse, scuffled over to him, sitting in the seat closest to their ‘guest’. “Lord Mukuro doesn’t usually allow us to sit so close.”
“Why’s that?” Tsuna wondered quietly, trying to eat in between sentences.
“Mostly because they’ll all start fighting if we do,” The girl replied, eating her curry with little to no noise as well. “He’s always thinking of us, even if he never says it.”
I doubt that, He thought skeptically, but this girl here seemed to trust the man that had tortured him, and he wondered what, exactly, he had done to earn that trust. “How old are you, Ms. Nagi?”
“Seventeen,” She replied in her same little quiet voice. One year younger than me, then. “Also, just call me ‘Chrome’,” She smiled a little, feeling comfortable with him. “It’s a nickname of sorts. Just Chrome.”
“If that’s how it is, call me Tsuna, then,” He smiled a bright, honest smile. “Just Tsuna.”
…
“Iemitsu said that?” Reborn scowled deeply, refusing to believe this so easily. “There’s no way. We killed him years ago.”
“Correction,” The Ninth said breathlessly, straining to say every word. “We thought we killed him years ago. But now that this has happened, you can’t rule out the possibility, can you?”
“Damn it,” He fumed, his foot tapping against the floor through his leather loafers. “Damn it! Of all the times to reveal himself…he sure got us.”
“Reborn,” His boss breathed out, a calming smile on his face, knowing well that his best hitman would not react well to what he had to say next. “You cannot go this mission alone. Either you get the Varia to go with you or you don’t go at all.”
“That’s ridiculous,” The black-haired man muttered angrily. “You, of all people, know how much they can’t stand Tsuna.”
His old eyes turned from wise and kind to deadly at a moment’s notice. “You will convince, I’m sure, if you’re this determined to go.”
“…Fine,” He said, then strolled out, shooting a glare just as lethal back at his boss, his frustration seeping out of his pores. Timoteo leaned back into his pillows and sighed.
…
As the sun was beginning to go down, Tsuna sighed. Chrome had directed him to a sitting room full of books he’d never even seen before, and he was to stay there until Mukuro beckoned. However, the longer he sat there in silence, the more he realized that this could potentially turn into a disaster. No matter how much he didn’t trust the master of this house, he couldn’t let innocents, like Chrome, and the other few servants that lived here, die in a war, which was exactly what this would become if he didn’t figure out some way to diffuse the situation.
Escaping is apparently futile, because I’m outnumbered. Fighting isn’t much of an option in that respect, either…well, it could be. But too many causalities in that case. To someone who hated killing and hated death, one loss was too many.
Then it came to him. It wouldn’t be pretty, and he was taking a chance with less than a five percent chance of survival. But he had an idea, through his observations throughout the day, of exactly what Mukuro was, and thus how he could defeat him at his own game.
…
“Well, nothing’s going to change by sitting here, looking stupid,” Reborn was furious after getting the news and being allowed to do next to nothing, but refused to raise his voice with the long-haired swordsman, whipping out his gun in what would have been a menacing gesture, had the other party not been so used to this kind of treatment. “My boss overrules your boss, and he-even from his damn sickbed-gave you fools orders to go follow the fucking lead.”
“Xanxus says the fucking brat got what he fucking deserved,” Squalo snapped back, just as pissed off, although he was loud and angry about it. “And I, for one, agree with him! If the pissy brat knew this was gonna happen, he should’ve tried to stop it beforehand!”
The words made everyone in the room tense up, but the gray-eyed man cared little for the killing intent of snot-nosed brats he’d had a hand in bringing up himself. “Fine. See what I care. As long as you’re wiped out, I guess there’ll be no opposition to us doing it, since the Varia is, apparently, now made up of a bunch of fucking incompetents.”
“Voi!! That has nothing to do with this!” He growled, the sword that was always on his person, and was actually attached to his arm, hidden in the trademark long-sleeved suit of the Special Forces unit. “If anything, you should be taking responsibility!”
“Will you all just shut up?!” The only person in the room no one had expected to speak up on matters, Xanxus himself, was growing annoyed with all of this stupid chitter-chatter taking place. “If we go do this fucking job for that trash, I’ll be expecting full compensation, and your presence,” He growled, his red eyes strained into a glare at the hitman, who was returning it with full force. “We are going to the front lines for your fucking brat.”
“Fine,” Reborn agreed, a scowl set darkly on his face. The rest of the guardians waited, knowing that whatever came next could not have possibly been worse news. “But you brats have to stay here. In the event that Tsuna’s attacker returns, or demands a ransom, you must intercept him at all costs.”
Gokudera, probably the most frustrated by this news, bit his lip until it drew blood, and dug his fingers into his palms, doing the same. But he knew the hitman was right, and as his subordinate, he could not argue with his demands. Next to him, Yamamoto looked just as ready to kill something or someone, his killing aura seeping out of his pores. The only person that kept the two of them tame was missing, and that being the case, they were ready to step into the fray and fight for him back.
…
“We should just kill them all,” The blonde one said, a furious scowl on his face. While he looked feral, something about his hair sticking at all angles, barely held in place by ten or twenty bobby pins, made him seem ever more dangerous.
“Lord Mukuro said not to,” His companion murmured quietly, although he thought the same thing. He couldn’t wait until this whole ordeal was over. “Is everyone in place?”
“Looks like it,” The young man spat out, resisting the urge to crush something. “That idiot girl is watching the captive while Mr. Mukuro bathes, too, so everything back at the base is clear as well.”
“…You’ll be punished for not paying attention, Ken,” The youth wearing a white winter hat muttered, and tensed up. He stood slowly, flexing his fingers to deal with the incoming enemy. “They’re here.”
“Finally!” He growled, pulling something from the inside of his coat and baring his fangs at the trespassers of their property.
…
“Hmmm,” He mused to himself, lounging on the couch lazily, daintily stirring the tea until the ten sugar cubes he’d put in it dissolved. “So, it’s finally started, has it?”
“My Lord,” A redhead stood in the doorway, bowing to him in respect.
“Stop that, lovely,” The man smiled widely, clapping his hands together in amusement. “How is our toy?”
The other man scowled, for there was nothing else to do but accept his master’s treatment. “Your ‘toy’ is doing just fine. He’s looking a bit thin, though.”
“Well then,” He chirped amusedly, then his voice was suddenly dark and serious, but his smile didn’t leave his face. “Fix it.”
“I-Immediately, sir,” And the redhead scurried off.
He settled back in his chair with a little hum, back to stirring his tea before he took a long sip. “Now then,” After his sip, he put the cup down and folded his hands in his lap. “Let the games begin.”
…
The sun was almost set when he entered the room, giving it an eerie feeling of loneliness when he set foot in there, treading the ground cautiously. He was breaking customs and house tradition, entering the room uninvited, but he could scarcely care for that now. Besides, it was a new age. No need for stuffy old rules, he thought, but as he entered, he wondered if perhaps he should turn tail now. However, the young man steeled his resolve and stepped in confidently, striding over until he was right next to the young lord lounging on the windowsill.
“Hello, Tsunayoshi,” The youth with long hair purred, his voice lovely and polite. His odd-colored eye glinted in the eve, and he resisted the urge to let that chill in his spine make him shudder. “How might I help you this evening?”
“Mukuro,” He started, his voice firm and ready. “I’m here to surrender to you. I hereby grant you full permission to control my body as you see fit.”
His eyes seemed to widen first.
Then, suddenly, he burst into a maniacal sort of laughter. “So, you had figured me out earlier. I was wondering why your dreams were so hard to enter. You have a defense.” He stood slowly, his robes falling off of his thin, pale shoulders, held up only by his right hand. “Hmm, interesting. However, you’re willingly granting me permission, knowing well that I’m not trustworthy, and what I wish to do with it?”
Tsuna didn’t know. He was taking so many chances-too many chances…and yet, there were no other options. This was the only way. It was a long and dangerous road he was sticking his thin little legs onto, but he just knew that something good would come of this, no matter what.
Bright caramel eyes shined up at him, and he only said one word.
“Yes.”
A delighted smile split the young lord’s face.
A/N: And the plot thickens even more. (I know, I stop at awful places. P:)
Chapter 4 Preview:
“Why?” He found his lips betraying him anyways, his eyes sharp as he stared at the boy. His question was loaded. Why are you doing this? Why aren’t you afraid of being broken? Why is it you? Why are you so young?
As if he were a mind reader, the boy simply smiled and said, “If I don’t, everyone I love could die, and then I’d become someone I don’t want to become.
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