genderbent!10069, 10051- The Best-Laid Plans
...This is an odd way to pop this comm.'s cherry. Anyone who knows me knows that I neither like writing porn much, nor am I skilled at it. But the idea for fem!Byakuran molesting beaten!fem!Mukuro would not leave me alone, so out came this ridiculousness. Only Byakuran, Mukuro, and Shouichi are girls here, simply because I can screw with gender logic as I please. The problem with me and porn is that I care more about what the characters are thinking, if they're regretting, if they've wanted the other character forever, how they perceive their partner, their surroundings, etc. than I do about "insert tab X into slot Y". Not to mention I can't create a sexually charged atmosphere at all. The second part, the 10051, is loosely based off of chapter 172- aside from writing beaten!Mukuro, I wanted to tie in the aftermath from the outside perspective as Shouichi goes off to betray Byakuran. Hopefully, the two parts connect in a fashion that makes sense!
So, uhm. Warnings for non-con, bloodplay, screwing an injured person, Byakuran being a creepy bitch in a miniskirt, and some Shou-chan angst at the end.
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“It’s always fun to see the best-laid plans go awry. The way people react is the best part, don’t you think, Mukuro-chan?” It’s not a question- it seldom is with Byakuran, no matter how she phrases it. The sound of her boots on the broken floor is muffled by the crackle of flames, flames whose light dances and shimmers across the blood streaming down Mukuro’s face. Byakuran cradles the good side of her captive’s face in a gesture that could seem tender, performed by anyone else. Mukuro is has yet to prove herself an entertaining prisoner, remaining eye stonily defiant and full lips set in a grim line.
“Careful,” Mukuro warns, mouth curving upwards in a raw smile, “a cornered animal has the fiercest bite.” Byakuran cocks her head and offers the other woman a smile of her own, wide and sunny.
“People are much more like flowers, I think, though from what I’ve heard, I don’t blame Mukuro-chan for comparing them to beasts. You’re very fond of the lotus, aren’t you?” She purrs, rubbing her thumb across Mukuro’s skin. “It’s very fitting for you and your hobby of sneaking around between life and death.” Turning her hand, she runs it across Mukuro’s cheek, leaning in closer. “Mukuro-chan is so soft like a lotus, too,” Byakuran mumrurs, teeth grazing the other woman’s throat. “I really am going to have so much fun ripping off your petals and crushing them, one by one!” Mukuro’s hollow laugh is cut short by Byakuran’s tongue lapping at the blood that pours sluggishly from her ruined eye. “Does it hurt to destroy it? It’s such a shame to ruin such an exotic eye, really,” she asks, letting her hands roam lower. “I’m sure it hurts Leo-kun, too- or Guido Greco-kun, really. I’d really gotten used to that little pseudonym you two were using.”
The blood still warm on her tongue, Byakuran kisses the mutilated socket, eliciting a hiss from Mukuro. “It’s funny, you know, how you set out trying to possess me, but ended up becoming my new possession!” she trills, like a child unwrapping a brand-new doll. “By the way, red is a very lovely colour with your complexion, Mukuro-chan.”
“Doubtless, you’re keen on seeing me in it often.” Byakuran laughs merrily at Mukuro’s gallows humour and touches their foreheads together, paying no mind to the blood staining her pure white hair.
“Oh, Mukuro-chan! Always so proud, even in the face of defeat! Were you so naughty to the guards at Vendicare?” Byakuran lets the prison’s name hang across the short distance between them, a chain. “Like I said, you’re just going to be so much fun to break.” Before Mukuro can retort, Byakuran covers her mouth in a kiss, biting at her lip until she draws blood. A strangled moan escapes the back of Mukuro’s throat, but the human body fails her once more, broken beyond resistance. Byakuran’s fingers drum lightly against Mukuro’s ribs, each flitting touch staining them with red. They part briefly, nimble fingers undoing Mukuro’s tie and casting away the remains of her jacket and shirt; casting them into the still-smoldering patches of fire. “Ten years in Vendicare haven’t been very good for Mukuro-chan’s health, hm? So thin!” Byakuran exclaims, leaning back in. Her tongue slides past Mukuro’s cracked lips and traces teasing shapes along the sensitive roof of her mouth. Byakuran’s hand cups a breast and squeezes, thumb stroking an erect nipple through the blood-saturated fabric that covers it. She breaks the kiss slowly, letting her tongue slick up angainst Mukuro’s in the small space between their lips.
“Mukuro-chan got beaten pretty badly, didn’t she?” Byakuran croons, tearing away what’s left of the sparse cloth covering Mukuro’s chest with a viciousness in contradiction with the smile on her face. “It looks like lots of ribs are broken… Let’s count them and see, Mukuro-chan!” Her finger presses against a broken bone, and Mukuro bites back a hoarse noise of pain. “One,” Byakuran murmurs, kissing the shell of Mukuro’s ear.
“Two.”
Another jab, another kiss on her throat.
“Three.”
Her collarbone.
“Four.”
Her sternum.
“Five.”
Her stomach.
“Six!”
The fingers leave her torso and slip between her legs to rub and tease through the fabric of her pants.
“Six broken ribs! Mukuro-chan sure is a tough cookie to be awake after all of that!” Mukuro keeps silent, lips once more shut tightly. She closes her eye and blearily reaches for her little Chrome through their faltering link, feeling the girl dying with her. Byakuran’s constraints are strong, and the images of Irie Shouichi and her machine fall in a crazy mishmash into the ruins of their garden. She frowns a little at the extra presence of Sawada Tsunayoshi- leave it to the foolish boy to fret for her as well. He never learned. Byakuran’s teeth sink into Mukuro’s throat and her body spasms in response, caught between agony and ecstasy.
“So much fun,” Byakuran sing-songs, slipping off her jacket. “So stay still for me, Mukuro-chan, my lovely little lotus…” Her fingers pinch down on Mukuro’s nipple, and a ragged moan drops from her lips in response. Her vision is beginning to waver and fade, but Byakuran grips her chin and jerks it up, lilac eyes gleaming. “Try to stay awake, though! It’ll get boring if you pass out or die, you know.” Byakuran’s hand slips into her pants, fingers probing and pressing against Mukuro’s wet slit. Mukuro groans softly and arches her hips ever so slightly as the fingers slide in, thrusting and scissoring. “Let’s see how many we can get in, hm? We’ll count them again, alright?” Slim fingers fist in Mukuro’s hair, jerking her head back until she is stating at the ceiling.
“One.”
Byakuran’s lips are oddly warm at the hollow of her throat. She can feel the blood- her blood- on them printed like lipstick marks on her skin. She shivers.
“Two.”
Her dry lips part in spite of herself, only for another crack to split and send blood dribbing down her chin. Byakuran’s tongue laps it up, and she moans softly at the taste.
“Three.”
Hell is beginning to look pleasant now, a dark reprieve from the blinding white that is Byakuran. With Mukuro’s blood smeared across her lips, cheeks, and hair, she looks like an avenging angel- disgustingly poetic. Byakuran is everything she loathes about the mafia rolled into one being, seemingly created to be her antithesis.
“Four… Should I try and keep going?”
Mukuro coughs up some more blood, wondering how Guido Greco’s corpse will look once her soul has been forcefully parted from it. He had been such a faithful subordinate, too, though nothing on the level of Ken, Chikusa, her ridiculous apprentice, or her sweet little Chrome, still struggling to cling to the life she had finally begun to value. Still, the boy had been ground to the dregs of his being by the mafia much as she had, and driven mad, as she likes to think she’s escaped for the most part. A concurrent mind to her sufferings and her plans.
Byakuran’s fingers curl and stroke brusquely inside of her, sending sparks of pleasure scurrying through her frayed nervous system. Her breaths come ragged and fast, body unused to stimulation after years with only brief, sporadic restorations of her senses. Byakuran kisses her again, pressing their bodies together and humming in appreciation. Her breasts press against Mukuro’s bare ones, the friction of cloth on skin making her burn even more with need. Pulling away, Byakuran turns her head to murmur in Mukuro’s ear, fingers still working industriously between her legs.
“Mukuro-chan must be getting close now, right? It’s really alright to make all those sweet little noises you've been trying to hold back. It's so much fun to see you so vulnerable, Mukuro-chan. Come on now, come for me." Mukuro's hips and thighs tense and relax, trying to prevent and stimulate her orgasm in turns. For such a slender woman, Byakuran's fingers fuck her with surprising force, each deep thrust belying a little of the madness beneath that knifelike smile. Mukuro does not mind madness, being acquainted with it herself, but Byakuran's volatility is something all unto itself. If she were not so much Mukuro's antithesis, the embodiment of everything she hates in the mafia, Mukuro might find Byakuran endearing, and as it is, her instability has a certain arousing element. Her breath is saccharine against Mukuro's ear, her voice a disingenuous melody.
"Come for me, Mukuro-chan, I want to see you fall apart now. Won't you do that for me, Mukuro-chan? A lotus' nectar is wonderfully sweet, so I'd like a taste of it now. Come for me, Mukuro-chan." In the traitorous fashion of the human body, Mukuro's orgasm takes her full-force, wracking her shattered body with a sudden, blinding shudder of ecstasy. It lingers as Byakuran's fingers slide out, throbbing dully like the wounds resurfacing in her awareness as the pleasure ebbs and her vision slowly returns. Byakuran's grip on her hair loosens, and her head lolls forward, spinning. Locking their eyes, Byakuran raises her wet fingers to her lips and begins to lick them clean, moaning softly in contentment. Straddling Mukuro's lap, she grinds her hips down on Mukuro's, the weight of her body sending spikes of agony scurrying up Mukuro's sides. Taking Mukuro's broken wrist, Byakuran places her hand on her hip and guides it down her slender figure and past the few inches of skirt she wears, leaving a trail of blood on her skin. Smiling, she peels the leather from Mukuro's hand and guides it back up the inside of her soft, pale thigh, still smiling all the while.
"My turn now, Mukuro-chan."
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"Was Shou-chan trying to call me?" Byakuran's voice chirped from Shouichi's personal communication board, making her heart flip in a mixture of relief and disappointment.
"What happened with Leonardo Lippi?" She demanded, the frantic concern in her voice not entirely an act. Byakuran shrugged and tore open a bag of marshmallows, popping one into her mouth.
"Oh, he'll probably show up on the news tomorrow with a different name as a nasty little rape-and-murder case."
"Rape?" Shouichi repeated incredulously. "Byakuran-san, what happened?" Byakuran smiled widely, and Shouichi was certain she was the only one watching who knew that it was anything but blithe. Her eyes surveyed the room before coming back to rest on Shouichi, giving the uncomfortable sensation that she was being undressed, even from through a video screen.
"When Shou-chan comes back to Italy, maybe I can show her some of what I did." Shouichi's breath hitched in fear, even as her shoulders tensed and face flushed with humiliation. "Without the murder part, of course!" Byakuran amended, dropping the air of menace and propping her chin on her palm. "I wouldn't want any harm to come to my precious Shou-chan!" Shouichi stared up at the other woman's image and felt her stomach twist at the sight. Even with her eyes closed, she could trace every smooth contour of Byakuran's face with awkward fingers, picture her slender, naked body lying supine in her white sheets, soft hair ticking Shouichi's nose while her head rested beneath her chin, like a child. Shouichi knew Byakuran's quirks, her eccentric habits, and even knowing how bloody her hands were, Byakuran's voice was a constant melody to her ears like no song she could ever own. Each little oddity had made Shouichi love the woman who had betrayed her trust, the woman whom she was now about to betray as well. Running a hand through her hair, she watched Byakuran's lilac eyes for any trace of suspicion or doubt, but they remained as opaque as they had been since the day Shouichi recovered her memories. Something had long since been lost between them, something, she told herself, that she could not afford to ever seek again, not when she'd come so far.
"It was Rokudou Mukuro-chan, you know."
Shouichi's shock matched that of all the others in the room, masking her fear for her own plans. Rokudou and Chrome Dokuro were two halves of a whole, so if both died, everything would be lost.
"Rokudou... Vongola's Mist Guardian?" She repeated, only hoping the slight waver in her voice could be mistaken for anything but concern.
"That's right!" Shouichi swallowed hard, knowing full well that any answer she got was only half likely to be of any use.
"So did you... Did you kill her?" Byakuran's poker face remained intact, a smile still on her lips.
"I guess so!" Exasperation with Byakuran's propensity for vagueness took over, and she interjected.
"What do you mean you 'guess so'? With you, either she's dead or she's-"
"I have more important things to tell Shou-chan, though, since it's really starting to get interesting!" Byakuran interrupted, wagging a chiding finger at Shouichi as she spoke. "Mukuro-chan did get some information about the Millefiore out before I got to her, so Vongola will definitely be looking to attack Shou-chan's base if they ever find out about 'that'." Shouichi's pulse jumped in relief- things were not over yet if the Vongola Family of the past had the means to infiltrate the Melone Base. Byakuran continued to speak, but Shouichi's mind only stored the words for later processing as she thought.
"Reinforcements?" She responded slowly, frowning at the thought of any extra Millefiore interfering with her. "I don't need any." Byakuran's eyes widened a little in surprise at the tone of Shouichi's voice, the simple expression very nearly undoing the facade. 'Most trusted subordinate' was far from it, no matter how much Shouichi wished to believe it on a more personal level. Banishing any lingering ghosts of affection, she turned away from the screen and Byakuran. This was one plan she would not have laid awry, no matter the cost to herself.
So, uhm. Warnings for non-con, bloodplay, screwing an injured person, Byakuran being a creepy bitch in a miniskirt, and some Shou-chan angst at the end.
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“It’s always fun to see the best-laid plans go awry. The way people react is the best part, don’t you think, Mukuro-chan?” It’s not a question- it seldom is with Byakuran, no matter how she phrases it. The sound of her boots on the broken floor is muffled by the crackle of flames, flames whose light dances and shimmers across the blood streaming down Mukuro’s face. Byakuran cradles the good side of her captive’s face in a gesture that could seem tender, performed by anyone else. Mukuro is has yet to prove herself an entertaining prisoner, remaining eye stonily defiant and full lips set in a grim line.
“Careful,” Mukuro warns, mouth curving upwards in a raw smile, “a cornered animal has the fiercest bite.” Byakuran cocks her head and offers the other woman a smile of her own, wide and sunny.
“People are much more like flowers, I think, though from what I’ve heard, I don’t blame Mukuro-chan for comparing them to beasts. You’re very fond of the lotus, aren’t you?” She purrs, rubbing her thumb across Mukuro’s skin. “It’s very fitting for you and your hobby of sneaking around between life and death.” Turning her hand, she runs it across Mukuro’s cheek, leaning in closer. “Mukuro-chan is so soft like a lotus, too,” Byakuran mumrurs, teeth grazing the other woman’s throat. “I really am going to have so much fun ripping off your petals and crushing them, one by one!” Mukuro’s hollow laugh is cut short by Byakuran’s tongue lapping at the blood that pours sluggishly from her ruined eye. “Does it hurt to destroy it? It’s such a shame to ruin such an exotic eye, really,” she asks, letting her hands roam lower. “I’m sure it hurts Leo-kun, too- or Guido Greco-kun, really. I’d really gotten used to that little pseudonym you two were using.”
The blood still warm on her tongue, Byakuran kisses the mutilated socket, eliciting a hiss from Mukuro. “It’s funny, you know, how you set out trying to possess me, but ended up becoming my new possession!” she trills, like a child unwrapping a brand-new doll. “By the way, red is a very lovely colour with your complexion, Mukuro-chan.”
“Doubtless, you’re keen on seeing me in it often.” Byakuran laughs merrily at Mukuro’s gallows humour and touches their foreheads together, paying no mind to the blood staining her pure white hair.
“Oh, Mukuro-chan! Always so proud, even in the face of defeat! Were you so naughty to the guards at Vendicare?” Byakuran lets the prison’s name hang across the short distance between them, a chain. “Like I said, you’re just going to be so much fun to break.” Before Mukuro can retort, Byakuran covers her mouth in a kiss, biting at her lip until she draws blood. A strangled moan escapes the back of Mukuro’s throat, but the human body fails her once more, broken beyond resistance. Byakuran’s fingers drum lightly against Mukuro’s ribs, each flitting touch staining them with red. They part briefly, nimble fingers undoing Mukuro’s tie and casting away the remains of her jacket and shirt; casting them into the still-smoldering patches of fire. “Ten years in Vendicare haven’t been very good for Mukuro-chan’s health, hm? So thin!” Byakuran exclaims, leaning back in. Her tongue slides past Mukuro’s cracked lips and traces teasing shapes along the sensitive roof of her mouth. Byakuran’s hand cups a breast and squeezes, thumb stroking an erect nipple through the blood-saturated fabric that covers it. She breaks the kiss slowly, letting her tongue slick up angainst Mukuro’s in the small space between their lips.
“Mukuro-chan got beaten pretty badly, didn’t she?” Byakuran croons, tearing away what’s left of the sparse cloth covering Mukuro’s chest with a viciousness in contradiction with the smile on her face. “It looks like lots of ribs are broken… Let’s count them and see, Mukuro-chan!” Her finger presses against a broken bone, and Mukuro bites back a hoarse noise of pain. “One,” Byakuran murmurs, kissing the shell of Mukuro’s ear.
“Two.”
Another jab, another kiss on her throat.
“Three.”
Her collarbone.
“Four.”
Her sternum.
“Five.”
Her stomach.
“Six!”
The fingers leave her torso and slip between her legs to rub and tease through the fabric of her pants.
“Six broken ribs! Mukuro-chan sure is a tough cookie to be awake after all of that!” Mukuro keeps silent, lips once more shut tightly. She closes her eye and blearily reaches for her little Chrome through their faltering link, feeling the girl dying with her. Byakuran’s constraints are strong, and the images of Irie Shouichi and her machine fall in a crazy mishmash into the ruins of their garden. She frowns a little at the extra presence of Sawada Tsunayoshi- leave it to the foolish boy to fret for her as well. He never learned. Byakuran’s teeth sink into Mukuro’s throat and her body spasms in response, caught between agony and ecstasy.
“So much fun,” Byakuran sing-songs, slipping off her jacket. “So stay still for me, Mukuro-chan, my lovely little lotus…” Her fingers pinch down on Mukuro’s nipple, and a ragged moan drops from her lips in response. Her vision is beginning to waver and fade, but Byakuran grips her chin and jerks it up, lilac eyes gleaming. “Try to stay awake, though! It’ll get boring if you pass out or die, you know.” Byakuran’s hand slips into her pants, fingers probing and pressing against Mukuro’s wet slit. Mukuro groans softly and arches her hips ever so slightly as the fingers slide in, thrusting and scissoring. “Let’s see how many we can get in, hm? We’ll count them again, alright?” Slim fingers fist in Mukuro’s hair, jerking her head back until she is stating at the ceiling.
“One.”
Byakuran’s lips are oddly warm at the hollow of her throat. She can feel the blood- her blood- on them printed like lipstick marks on her skin. She shivers.
“Two.”
Her dry lips part in spite of herself, only for another crack to split and send blood dribbing down her chin. Byakuran’s tongue laps it up, and she moans softly at the taste.
“Three.”
Hell is beginning to look pleasant now, a dark reprieve from the blinding white that is Byakuran. With Mukuro’s blood smeared across her lips, cheeks, and hair, she looks like an avenging angel- disgustingly poetic. Byakuran is everything she loathes about the mafia rolled into one being, seemingly created to be her antithesis.
“Four… Should I try and keep going?”
Mukuro coughs up some more blood, wondering how Guido Greco’s corpse will look once her soul has been forcefully parted from it. He had been such a faithful subordinate, too, though nothing on the level of Ken, Chikusa, her ridiculous apprentice, or her sweet little Chrome, still struggling to cling to the life she had finally begun to value. Still, the boy had been ground to the dregs of his being by the mafia much as she had, and driven mad, as she likes to think she’s escaped for the most part. A concurrent mind to her sufferings and her plans.
Byakuran’s fingers curl and stroke brusquely inside of her, sending sparks of pleasure scurrying through her frayed nervous system. Her breaths come ragged and fast, body unused to stimulation after years with only brief, sporadic restorations of her senses. Byakuran kisses her again, pressing their bodies together and humming in appreciation. Her breasts press against Mukuro’s bare ones, the friction of cloth on skin making her burn even more with need. Pulling away, Byakuran turns her head to murmur in Mukuro’s ear, fingers still working industriously between her legs.
“Mukuro-chan must be getting close now, right? It’s really alright to make all those sweet little noises you've been trying to hold back. It's so much fun to see you so vulnerable, Mukuro-chan. Come on now, come for me." Mukuro's hips and thighs tense and relax, trying to prevent and stimulate her orgasm in turns. For such a slender woman, Byakuran's fingers fuck her with surprising force, each deep thrust belying a little of the madness beneath that knifelike smile. Mukuro does not mind madness, being acquainted with it herself, but Byakuran's volatility is something all unto itself. If she were not so much Mukuro's antithesis, the embodiment of everything she hates in the mafia, Mukuro might find Byakuran endearing, and as it is, her instability has a certain arousing element. Her breath is saccharine against Mukuro's ear, her voice a disingenuous melody.
"Come for me, Mukuro-chan, I want to see you fall apart now. Won't you do that for me, Mukuro-chan? A lotus' nectar is wonderfully sweet, so I'd like a taste of it now. Come for me, Mukuro-chan." In the traitorous fashion of the human body, Mukuro's orgasm takes her full-force, wracking her shattered body with a sudden, blinding shudder of ecstasy. It lingers as Byakuran's fingers slide out, throbbing dully like the wounds resurfacing in her awareness as the pleasure ebbs and her vision slowly returns. Byakuran's grip on her hair loosens, and her head lolls forward, spinning. Locking their eyes, Byakuran raises her wet fingers to her lips and begins to lick them clean, moaning softly in contentment. Straddling Mukuro's lap, she grinds her hips down on Mukuro's, the weight of her body sending spikes of agony scurrying up Mukuro's sides. Taking Mukuro's broken wrist, Byakuran places her hand on her hip and guides it down her slender figure and past the few inches of skirt she wears, leaving a trail of blood on her skin. Smiling, she peels the leather from Mukuro's hand and guides it back up the inside of her soft, pale thigh, still smiling all the while.
"My turn now, Mukuro-chan."
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"Was Shou-chan trying to call me?" Byakuran's voice chirped from Shouichi's personal communication board, making her heart flip in a mixture of relief and disappointment.
"What happened with Leonardo Lippi?" She demanded, the frantic concern in her voice not entirely an act. Byakuran shrugged and tore open a bag of marshmallows, popping one into her mouth.
"Oh, he'll probably show up on the news tomorrow with a different name as a nasty little rape-and-murder case."
"Rape?" Shouichi repeated incredulously. "Byakuran-san, what happened?" Byakuran smiled widely, and Shouichi was certain she was the only one watching who knew that it was anything but blithe. Her eyes surveyed the room before coming back to rest on Shouichi, giving the uncomfortable sensation that she was being undressed, even from through a video screen.
"When Shou-chan comes back to Italy, maybe I can show her some of what I did." Shouichi's breath hitched in fear, even as her shoulders tensed and face flushed with humiliation. "Without the murder part, of course!" Byakuran amended, dropping the air of menace and propping her chin on her palm. "I wouldn't want any harm to come to my precious Shou-chan!" Shouichi stared up at the other woman's image and felt her stomach twist at the sight. Even with her eyes closed, she could trace every smooth contour of Byakuran's face with awkward fingers, picture her slender, naked body lying supine in her white sheets, soft hair ticking Shouichi's nose while her head rested beneath her chin, like a child. Shouichi knew Byakuran's quirks, her eccentric habits, and even knowing how bloody her hands were, Byakuran's voice was a constant melody to her ears like no song she could ever own. Each little oddity had made Shouichi love the woman who had betrayed her trust, the woman whom she was now about to betray as well. Running a hand through her hair, she watched Byakuran's lilac eyes for any trace of suspicion or doubt, but they remained as opaque as they had been since the day Shouichi recovered her memories. Something had long since been lost between them, something, she told herself, that she could not afford to ever seek again, not when she'd come so far.
"It was Rokudou Mukuro-chan, you know."
Shouichi's shock matched that of all the others in the room, masking her fear for her own plans. Rokudou and Chrome Dokuro were two halves of a whole, so if both died, everything would be lost.
"Rokudou... Vongola's Mist Guardian?" She repeated, only hoping the slight waver in her voice could be mistaken for anything but concern.
"That's right!" Shouichi swallowed hard, knowing full well that any answer she got was only half likely to be of any use.
"So did you... Did you kill her?" Byakuran's poker face remained intact, a smile still on her lips.
"I guess so!" Exasperation with Byakuran's propensity for vagueness took over, and she interjected.
"What do you mean you 'guess so'? With you, either she's dead or she's-"
"I have more important things to tell Shou-chan, though, since it's really starting to get interesting!" Byakuran interrupted, wagging a chiding finger at Shouichi as she spoke. "Mukuro-chan did get some information about the Millefiore out before I got to her, so Vongola will definitely be looking to attack Shou-chan's base if they ever find out about 'that'." Shouichi's pulse jumped in relief- things were not over yet if the Vongola Family of the past had the means to infiltrate the Melone Base. Byakuran continued to speak, but Shouichi's mind only stored the words for later processing as she thought.
"Reinforcements?" She responded slowly, frowning at the thought of any extra Millefiore interfering with her. "I don't need any." Byakuran's eyes widened a little in surprise at the tone of Shouichi's voice, the simple expression very nearly undoing the facade. 'Most trusted subordinate' was far from it, no matter how much Shouichi wished to believe it on a more personal level. Banishing any lingering ghosts of affection, she turned away from the screen and Byakuran. This was one plan she would not have laid awry, no matter the cost to herself.