KHR: Cause and Effect (Byakuran/Shouichi), Part 2
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama
Summary: Shouichi. Byakuran. A tangled relationship reaching back to childhood.
Back to Part 1
Cause and Effect
Part 2
Shouichi knows Byakuran well enough to recognize that he's in deep shit. Byakuran may content himself by playing the lovers game now, but forgive and forget is not in his dictionary. Sooner rather than later, Shouichi will be thrown into the incinerator like burnable trash.
The way he figures, there are two reasons that he's still alive, both equally likely. The first is that he's the only one who knows how the time device operates. Shouichi's continuing research is irreplaceable when it comes to the retrieval of the destroyed Vongola rings. The second is that Byakuran wants Shouichi to see it to the end, to witness first-hand the destruction that his invention will cause.
The moment Byakuran's plan comes to fruition, Shouichi's usefulness as both a scientist and a source of amusement will end.
His stomachaches come with increasing frequency, but the ulcer will never get a chance to kill him. That doesn't mean that Byakuran stops trying to crush him with pressure.
Shouichi blanches as he remembers the hangar full of white anemones. The misunderstanding is sweeping through Melone base like wildfire, rumor turning to fact with repetition, that Commander Irie enjoys Byakuran's favor, that he's Byakuran's most trusted man. Byakuran's frequent check-ins ("my personal parole officer", Shouichi thinks wryly) encourages more speculation.
White Spell is looking at him with open hunger, ambitious sycophants plying him with transparent flattery that Shouichi doesn't know how to respond to.
Black Spell is sizing him up, dissecting him for weakness and looking for opportunities to trip him (and by extension, Byakuran) up. The meeting with Gamma confirms his suspicions; the animosity goes all the way up to the captains. Shouichi can expect no help from 3rd Aphelandra Squad. The best he can hope for is that they don't knife him in the back while he's distracted by Byakuran, by the Vongola, by the impending future of doom.
"You handled that well," the Cervello he's taken to thinking of as C2 compliments as they fall into flanking position behind him.
"Thanks..." Shouichi murmurs, knowing this will get reported to Byakuran, like every other action he takes.
He's gotten used to the Cervello shadowing his every step, entering his room at all hours of the night with lists of Vongola casualties, asking for orders on how to handle internal squabbles and looking for updates on the Tri-ni-sette research.
Turning up the music and pretending not to hear their call doesn't work. They're more tenacious than his mother ever was when waking him up to go to school on Monday mornings. The only place Shouichi can lose them is in the restroom, and even then, just barely.
"Wait, Irie-sama," C1 stops him from closing the door.
"I'm going to take a quick shower. I don't need any assistance here."
Both Cervello giggle in that unnerving way of theirs. "Please use this. It's a gift from Byakuran-sama."
Shouichi eyes the "gift" with distrust and makes no move to take it. With the sender being Byakuran, there's no telling what's in the bag. A bouquet of flowers, a box of chocolates, a poisonous snake, a severed head... nothing is outside the realm of possibility.
"What is it?"
C2 pulls out the contents and shakes it out for Shouichi to see. It's a pair of white boxers with marshmallow patterns that looks like it's been taken from Byakuran's closet. Shouichi's almost sure he's seen it before.
"...I don't want it."
"There's a note," C1 reports, still snickering, and C2 leans over so they can relay the message in unison.
"Just imagining you in these makes me want to eat you up~ ♪ Byakkun."
Shouichi slams the door in their laughing faces.
-----
"How did you like my gift, Shou-chan?" Byakuran addresses the most important matter first.
"I-it's fine. Thank you," Shouichi lies unconvincingly, uncertain if Byakuran means the thinly concealed threat of the anemones or the sexually harassing boxers. Then, because Byakuran is still waiting, he tacks on, "It reminds me of you."
"That was my plan! I don't want Shou-chan to forget about me, all the way in Japan. You need to work at it, to make these long-distance relationships work."
Shouichi is tired of these games, these pretenses (at friendship? at love?) that he is not Byakuran's enemy and that Byakuran is not his jailer.
He feels like a guinea pig in a psychological experiment, designed to test the limits of his endurance, every reaction recorded until they finally, finally break him.
Screw it, he thinks, and he can almost hear his patience snap. I'm dead either way. There's no point cowering in fear.
"Was there something you needed? Or did you run out of subordinates to harass over there?"
"They're poor substitutes for Shou-chan. It's not the same if it isn't you."
"So you admit that you're harassing me. I'd report you to human resources, only the mafia doesn't seem to have a HR unit."
"It's more cost effective to eliminate a complainant rather than going through the grievance procedure. Men are so expendable, aren't they?"
"..."
"Of course, Shou-chan is an exception. You're the only one I won't get rid of, my oldest, dearest friend."
"It's an honor, Byakuran-san," Shouichi says dryly, not believing a single word.
"I mean it, Shou-chan. I remember all you've done for me, even if you don't. You have a special place in my heart."
"No wonder I feel claustrophobic. The surroundings are so small."
Byakuran bursts out into genuine laughter. "Ah~h~ just like the old Shou-chan. It was a good idea to send you away. A spirited Shou-chan is best, after all."
"Spirited?"
"Mmhmm. You were so strung out and depressed. I was concerned for your health."
"Although it's your concern that makes me most concerned. It's not much of a vacation if you keep calling me."
"But it's only natural to want to hear your lover's voice~"
"I'll send you a recording next time. Good night, Byakuran-san."
"Wait! Shou-chan!" Byakuran says frantically as Shouichi leans in to close the connection. "I still have something to discuss!"
"Five seconds."
"Can you model the boxers for me?"
"Regrettably, I'm not wearing it."
Byakuran's smile widens. "How bold of you, Shou-chan~ I think I like it~"
Shouichi slams both palms down on the keyboard and cuts off the feed.
-----
There are somber men in black suits and dark shades, exchanging condolences in muted Italian. A funeral procession (for Vongola Decimo? or one of the other countless deceased?) is underway.
Shouichi watches from the shadows, trying to figure out this dream. For it is a dream; Shouichi never leaves the base anymore, and the last thing he remembers is collapsing into bed.
He waits until the crowd thins and the mourners are few before slipping into the church. He pauses by the registry and reads the deceased's name: Gesso.
No.
His footsteps echo hollowly as he makes his way up to the open coffin, both needing to confirm and anxious to delay what he already suspects. The scent of incense and orchids assault his senses and his heartbeats spike to dangerous levels. It feels too intense, too real to be a dream.
But it has to be. Byakuran can't be dead.
It takes all his courage to look into the coffin and Shouichi sinks to his knees, overcome with emotion.
"It's not him," he whispers, and he's surprised to realize he's crying with relief. "It's not him." He laughs and he cries, until he becomes aware that he's not alone.
A small boy is staring at him with unmistakable purple eyes.
"Who are you? I've never seen you before."
"I'm the man who will take your death the hardest, although I'm likely the one responsible," Shouichi says honestly, because he's sick of lying to himself outside of his dreams.
Little Byakuran looks frightened, but does not flee.
"Are you the one who killed my mother?"
"Ah, no." Belatedly, Shouichi makes the connection, makes note of the family resemblance.
"But you'll kill me."
"It's something I have to do," Shouichi says apologetically and Byakuran nods his acceptance.
"If you're going to kill me, can you do it now?"
Shouichi startles. The Byakuran he knows does not have a death wish (or does he? I wonder why he keeps you around?).
"Aren't you scared of dying?"
"I'm more scared of being alone."
Byakuran kneels at his feet, so small, so weak, so vulnerable, pleading with him for an end.
Maybe Shouichi isn't the only one who wants release. Maybe it's Byakuran's wish as well. Or at least that's what Shouichi's subconscious would apparently like him to believe. Death by betrayal at a lover's hand... that kind of demise would appeal to Byakuran's twisted sense of romance.
Shouichi obligingly reaches out and wraps his hands around Byakuran's throat. He squeezes.
Capillaries burst and ring around Shouichi's tightening hold and Byakuran thrashes involuntarily, clawing at Shouichi's arms and drawing blood.
It hurts.
It hurts so much to kill him, even knowing it's not real.
He can't carry through. The stress is too much.
This is the point where he usually wakes up, gasping for air as if he's the one being asphyxiated.
The dream doesn't end. Byakuran only turns bluer.
Realization hits him like a ton of bricks and he snatches back his hands as if burned. Byakuran gags on the air and fights not to puke.
"It hurts," Shouichi murmurs in wonderment, digging his nails into his scratches with a wince. "It really hurts. This isn't a dream. This is real."
Somehow, without his knowledge, he has been transported into the past.
-----
to be continued.
-----
Also posted to fanfiction.net
Genre: Drama
Summary: Shouichi. Byakuran. A tangled relationship reaching back to childhood.
Back to Part 1
Cause and Effect
Part 2
Shouichi knows Byakuran well enough to recognize that he's in deep shit. Byakuran may content himself by playing the lovers game now, but forgive and forget is not in his dictionary. Sooner rather than later, Shouichi will be thrown into the incinerator like burnable trash.
The way he figures, there are two reasons that he's still alive, both equally likely. The first is that he's the only one who knows how the time device operates. Shouichi's continuing research is irreplaceable when it comes to the retrieval of the destroyed Vongola rings. The second is that Byakuran wants Shouichi to see it to the end, to witness first-hand the destruction that his invention will cause.
The moment Byakuran's plan comes to fruition, Shouichi's usefulness as both a scientist and a source of amusement will end.
His stomachaches come with increasing frequency, but the ulcer will never get a chance to kill him. That doesn't mean that Byakuran stops trying to crush him with pressure.
Shouichi blanches as he remembers the hangar full of white anemones. The misunderstanding is sweeping through Melone base like wildfire, rumor turning to fact with repetition, that Commander Irie enjoys Byakuran's favor, that he's Byakuran's most trusted man. Byakuran's frequent check-ins ("my personal parole officer", Shouichi thinks wryly) encourages more speculation.
White Spell is looking at him with open hunger, ambitious sycophants plying him with transparent flattery that Shouichi doesn't know how to respond to.
Black Spell is sizing him up, dissecting him for weakness and looking for opportunities to trip him (and by extension, Byakuran) up. The meeting with Gamma confirms his suspicions; the animosity goes all the way up to the captains. Shouichi can expect no help from 3rd Aphelandra Squad. The best he can hope for is that they don't knife him in the back while he's distracted by Byakuran, by the Vongola, by the impending future of doom.
"You handled that well," the Cervello he's taken to thinking of as C2 compliments as they fall into flanking position behind him.
"Thanks..." Shouichi murmurs, knowing this will get reported to Byakuran, like every other action he takes.
He's gotten used to the Cervello shadowing his every step, entering his room at all hours of the night with lists of Vongola casualties, asking for orders on how to handle internal squabbles and looking for updates on the Tri-ni-sette research.
Turning up the music and pretending not to hear their call doesn't work. They're more tenacious than his mother ever was when waking him up to go to school on Monday mornings. The only place Shouichi can lose them is in the restroom, and even then, just barely.
"Wait, Irie-sama," C1 stops him from closing the door.
"I'm going to take a quick shower. I don't need any assistance here."
Both Cervello giggle in that unnerving way of theirs. "Please use this. It's a gift from Byakuran-sama."
Shouichi eyes the "gift" with distrust and makes no move to take it. With the sender being Byakuran, there's no telling what's in the bag. A bouquet of flowers, a box of chocolates, a poisonous snake, a severed head... nothing is outside the realm of possibility.
"What is it?"
C2 pulls out the contents and shakes it out for Shouichi to see. It's a pair of white boxers with marshmallow patterns that looks like it's been taken from Byakuran's closet. Shouichi's almost sure he's seen it before.
"...I don't want it."
"There's a note," C1 reports, still snickering, and C2 leans over so they can relay the message in unison.
"Just imagining you in these makes me want to eat you up~ ♪ Byakkun."
Shouichi slams the door in their laughing faces.
-----
"How did you like my gift, Shou-chan?" Byakuran addresses the most important matter first.
"I-it's fine. Thank you," Shouichi lies unconvincingly, uncertain if Byakuran means the thinly concealed threat of the anemones or the sexually harassing boxers. Then, because Byakuran is still waiting, he tacks on, "It reminds me of you."
"That was my plan! I don't want Shou-chan to forget about me, all the way in Japan. You need to work at it, to make these long-distance relationships work."
Shouichi is tired of these games, these pretenses (at friendship? at love?) that he is not Byakuran's enemy and that Byakuran is not his jailer.
He feels like a guinea pig in a psychological experiment, designed to test the limits of his endurance, every reaction recorded until they finally, finally break him.
Screw it, he thinks, and he can almost hear his patience snap. I'm dead either way. There's no point cowering in fear.
"Was there something you needed? Or did you run out of subordinates to harass over there?"
"They're poor substitutes for Shou-chan. It's not the same if it isn't you."
"So you admit that you're harassing me. I'd report you to human resources, only the mafia doesn't seem to have a HR unit."
"It's more cost effective to eliminate a complainant rather than going through the grievance procedure. Men are so expendable, aren't they?"
"..."
"Of course, Shou-chan is an exception. You're the only one I won't get rid of, my oldest, dearest friend."
"It's an honor, Byakuran-san," Shouichi says dryly, not believing a single word.
"I mean it, Shou-chan. I remember all you've done for me, even if you don't. You have a special place in my heart."
"No wonder I feel claustrophobic. The surroundings are so small."
Byakuran bursts out into genuine laughter. "Ah~h~ just like the old Shou-chan. It was a good idea to send you away. A spirited Shou-chan is best, after all."
"Spirited?"
"Mmhmm. You were so strung out and depressed. I was concerned for your health."
"Although it's your concern that makes me most concerned. It's not much of a vacation if you keep calling me."
"But it's only natural to want to hear your lover's voice~"
"I'll send you a recording next time. Good night, Byakuran-san."
"Wait! Shou-chan!" Byakuran says frantically as Shouichi leans in to close the connection. "I still have something to discuss!"
"Five seconds."
"Can you model the boxers for me?"
"Regrettably, I'm not wearing it."
Byakuran's smile widens. "How bold of you, Shou-chan~ I think I like it~"
Shouichi slams both palms down on the keyboard and cuts off the feed.
-----
There are somber men in black suits and dark shades, exchanging condolences in muted Italian. A funeral procession (for Vongola Decimo? or one of the other countless deceased?) is underway.
Shouichi watches from the shadows, trying to figure out this dream. For it is a dream; Shouichi never leaves the base anymore, and the last thing he remembers is collapsing into bed.
He waits until the crowd thins and the mourners are few before slipping into the church. He pauses by the registry and reads the deceased's name: Gesso.
No.
His footsteps echo hollowly as he makes his way up to the open coffin, both needing to confirm and anxious to delay what he already suspects. The scent of incense and orchids assault his senses and his heartbeats spike to dangerous levels. It feels too intense, too real to be a dream.
But it has to be. Byakuran can't be dead.
It takes all his courage to look into the coffin and Shouichi sinks to his knees, overcome with emotion.
"It's not him," he whispers, and he's surprised to realize he's crying with relief. "It's not him." He laughs and he cries, until he becomes aware that he's not alone.
A small boy is staring at him with unmistakable purple eyes.
"Who are you? I've never seen you before."
"I'm the man who will take your death the hardest, although I'm likely the one responsible," Shouichi says honestly, because he's sick of lying to himself outside of his dreams.
Little Byakuran looks frightened, but does not flee.
"Are you the one who killed my mother?"
"Ah, no." Belatedly, Shouichi makes the connection, makes note of the family resemblance.
"But you'll kill me."
"It's something I have to do," Shouichi says apologetically and Byakuran nods his acceptance.
"If you're going to kill me, can you do it now?"
Shouichi startles. The Byakuran he knows does not have a death wish (or does he? I wonder why he keeps you around?).
"Aren't you scared of dying?"
"I'm more scared of being alone."
Byakuran kneels at his feet, so small, so weak, so vulnerable, pleading with him for an end.
Maybe Shouichi isn't the only one who wants release. Maybe it's Byakuran's wish as well. Or at least that's what Shouichi's subconscious would apparently like him to believe. Death by betrayal at a lover's hand... that kind of demise would appeal to Byakuran's twisted sense of romance.
Shouichi obligingly reaches out and wraps his hands around Byakuran's throat. He squeezes.
Capillaries burst and ring around Shouichi's tightening hold and Byakuran thrashes involuntarily, clawing at Shouichi's arms and drawing blood.
It hurts.
It hurts so much to kill him, even knowing it's not real.
He can't carry through. The stress is too much.
This is the point where he usually wakes up, gasping for air as if he's the one being asphyxiated.
The dream doesn't end. Byakuran only turns bluer.
Realization hits him like a ton of bricks and he snatches back his hands as if burned. Byakuran gags on the air and fights not to puke.
"It hurts," Shouichi murmurs in wonderment, digging his nails into his scratches with a wince. "It really hurts. This isn't a dream. This is real."
Somehow, without his knowledge, he has been transported into the past.
-----
to be continued.
-----
Also posted to fanfiction.net