KHR! || Implied 6996; "Illusione di Hope"
Title: Illusione di Hope
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Chrome Dokuro, Mukuro Rokudo, and Tsunayoshi Sawada
Author's Note: Somewhat angsty. Implied 6996.
Illusione di Hope
Chrome looks to Tsuna as they sit in the car, the older man quiet, contemplative as he looks out the window, chin resting in his hand. Her eyes face forward again, and she doesn’t say a word. They’ve been quiet this whole trip, something that had surprised her, considering Tsuna would always make awkward attempts at conversation in order to break the silence between them. Yet this time was different. The quiet wasn’t painful or strange, it was…mutual, an unsaid understanding of the need for silence.
She shivers as they pass through the first gate. Tsuna suddenly seems to notice her, and he takes off his suit coat, draping it over her shoulders. She doesn’t say anything; she simply nods her head once. Her chills aren’t from the cold.
The car slows, and then stops at the next gate. The driver’s window goes down and he hands the guard their identification. Once they’re waved through, they continue through the winding road. This process continues twice more before they’re finally on the main grounds. Chrome’s hands grip her skirt, and her body is tense. Her stomach rolls as she glances out the window to the blank expanse of nothing that’s the prison yard. Last time she has seen it she was in chains.
“Chrome, are you alright?” Tsuna asks, and she looks to him sharply, before shakily nodding once. His brows furrow and he reaches out to touch her hand, “You can stay in the car.”
“N…No,” she shakes her head, “I’ve been here before. I’ll be fine.”
The car rolls to a stop before the entrance, and the driver quickly exits to open Tsuna’s door. He steps out and a flood of air slips into the car, and Chrome can smell it, the ash, the tears, the death that hangs around this place and she’s almost ill.
Chrome, she feels him scold, but she slides out of the car, taking Tsuna’s offered hand to help her stand.
Her heel clicks hollowly against the stone and she remembers cells deep down in the dark, walls dripping and air misty with blood and sorrow. She looks up and sees masked faces, sees the hands reaching, grabbing her hair, her clothes, can feel the burning, searing pain of hot iron against the skin of her neck, feels the fire digging, scratching out three, seven, zero, six, three, leaving it scarred and raw and her throat is hoarse from her screaming, but she can’t scream, it only makes it worse, and
“Stop!” It takes her a moment to realize the voice coming from her throat isn’t hers. Her mind is suddenly filled with images of fields and lakes, tea time under trees, and she feels him pushing her down, down into her own mind, but she starts to fight back, because she’s not a little girl anymore. He’s angry with her defiance, and it’s the first time he’s actually forced her away, only an observer as he uses her body.
“Mu…Mukuro, what are you doing?” Tsuna’s eyes are both frustrated and confused, and Chrome is almost surprised at the emotions within them.
“Chrome will be waiting out here,” Mukuro replies nonchalantly with Chrome’s voice, tone reminiscent of one a person takes to talk about the weather, “She will only hinder your progress.”
Mukuro-sama! she says, indignant, and he shushes her like a child.
“Go, Tsunayoshi-kun,” he instructs, and steps back into the car, “I’m expecting you.”
Tsuna turns and leaves, the guards leading him into the Vendicare. Chrome trembles at the sound of the doors slamming shut, and Mukuro almost seems to say ‘I told you so’.
He wraps her mind in an illusion, one far away from unforgiving prison walls and rank cells filled with despair. This time, she simply welcomes it.
He sleeps heavily, almost dead, after years of rest only coming in a forced comatose state. Her eyes are trained to the slight rise and fall of his chest, not wanting to miss a breath, in the chance that it might be his last. His skin is nearly translucent, and she can see the delicate veins underneath. Her fingers reach out, brushing against his wrist, and it jerks instinctively. He doesn’t dream, she knows because she can’t see it, but his body still reacts to the treatments he suffered. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until the door opens and Tsuna appears at her side with a handkerchief.
“Here,” he says, “You’ve got something on your face.”
He sits with her awhile, watching her watch Mukuro, and she almost feels guilty for her lack of words. She’s grateful, so grateful, yet…she can’t express it enough.
“Boss,” she turns to him, but he raises a hand.
“It’s alright,” he smiles, “I know.”
The tears come again and she bows her head against the mattress, hands fisting in the sheets as she sobs.
“Nagi.”
His voice is hoarse from disuse, not the usual velvet tone she’s grown accustomed to. Her head snaps up from the bed, and he reaches out to brush his fingers through her hair.
“Odd, isn’t it?” he chuckles, his face raised towards the ceiling and eyes closed. She knows he doesn’t have the energy to truly look at her yet.
“Yes,” she nods, “I almost…I had grown used to seeing you like this through Leo-san, but…the feel of you is different, so I know this is not an illusion.”
“Mmm,” he hums, “I can say the same. Your hair is much softer in reality.”
She flushes and he laughs.
“Chrome,” he says, and she stills as his hand slips to the back of her neck, pads of his fingers tracing over the jagged numbers engraved there, “Why did you not listen?”
“I had…I wanted to see you first, with my own eyes,” she says softly, eyes dropping to the covers, “Ken, and Chikusa…even Boss have seen you, the real you, and yet…I had not. I was…selfish.”
His fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck and he tugs gently, a chastising gesture not meant to hurt.
“You would have crumbled,” he says, “And what if I did not wish for you to see me that way, so freshly vulnerable?”
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, “As I said, it was selfishness.”
“I will not have those nightmares again,” his voice is firm, and she looks up, startled when she sees his eyes open and looking into hers, “Your dreams are enough to haunt us both for many more lifetimes.”
Her throat tightens and she ducks her head, nodding as the tears begin to fall again.
“Oh Chrome,” he sighs, and his hand moves to thumb the tears from her cheeks, “Whatever will I do with you?”
She kisses his hand, a reverent gesture, and he presses it to the side of her face. She can feel the warmth of his body through it, and that small detail makes her heart ache with joy, causing fresh tears begin to fall.
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Chrome Dokuro, Mukuro Rokudo, and Tsunayoshi Sawada
Author's Note: Somewhat angsty. Implied 6996.
Illusione di Hope
Chrome looks to Tsuna as they sit in the car, the older man quiet, contemplative as he looks out the window, chin resting in his hand. Her eyes face forward again, and she doesn’t say a word. They’ve been quiet this whole trip, something that had surprised her, considering Tsuna would always make awkward attempts at conversation in order to break the silence between them. Yet this time was different. The quiet wasn’t painful or strange, it was…mutual, an unsaid understanding of the need for silence.
She shivers as they pass through the first gate. Tsuna suddenly seems to notice her, and he takes off his suit coat, draping it over her shoulders. She doesn’t say anything; she simply nods her head once. Her chills aren’t from the cold.
The car slows, and then stops at the next gate. The driver’s window goes down and he hands the guard their identification. Once they’re waved through, they continue through the winding road. This process continues twice more before they’re finally on the main grounds. Chrome’s hands grip her skirt, and her body is tense. Her stomach rolls as she glances out the window to the blank expanse of nothing that’s the prison yard. Last time she has seen it she was in chains.
“Chrome, are you alright?” Tsuna asks, and she looks to him sharply, before shakily nodding once. His brows furrow and he reaches out to touch her hand, “You can stay in the car.”
“N…No,” she shakes her head, “I’ve been here before. I’ll be fine.”
The car rolls to a stop before the entrance, and the driver quickly exits to open Tsuna’s door. He steps out and a flood of air slips into the car, and Chrome can smell it, the ash, the tears, the death that hangs around this place and she’s almost ill.
Chrome, she feels him scold, but she slides out of the car, taking Tsuna’s offered hand to help her stand.
Her heel clicks hollowly against the stone and she remembers cells deep down in the dark, walls dripping and air misty with blood and sorrow. She looks up and sees masked faces, sees the hands reaching, grabbing her hair, her clothes, can feel the burning, searing pain of hot iron against the skin of her neck, feels the fire digging, scratching out three, seven, zero, six, three, leaving it scarred and raw and her throat is hoarse from her screaming, but she can’t scream, it only makes it worse, and
“Stop!” It takes her a moment to realize the voice coming from her throat isn’t hers. Her mind is suddenly filled with images of fields and lakes, tea time under trees, and she feels him pushing her down, down into her own mind, but she starts to fight back, because she’s not a little girl anymore. He’s angry with her defiance, and it’s the first time he’s actually forced her away, only an observer as he uses her body.
“Mu…Mukuro, what are you doing?” Tsuna’s eyes are both frustrated and confused, and Chrome is almost surprised at the emotions within them.
“Chrome will be waiting out here,” Mukuro replies nonchalantly with Chrome’s voice, tone reminiscent of one a person takes to talk about the weather, “She will only hinder your progress.”
Mukuro-sama! she says, indignant, and he shushes her like a child.
“Go, Tsunayoshi-kun,” he instructs, and steps back into the car, “I’m expecting you.”
Tsuna turns and leaves, the guards leading him into the Vendicare. Chrome trembles at the sound of the doors slamming shut, and Mukuro almost seems to say ‘I told you so’.
He wraps her mind in an illusion, one far away from unforgiving prison walls and rank cells filled with despair. This time, she simply welcomes it.
He sleeps heavily, almost dead, after years of rest only coming in a forced comatose state. Her eyes are trained to the slight rise and fall of his chest, not wanting to miss a breath, in the chance that it might be his last. His skin is nearly translucent, and she can see the delicate veins underneath. Her fingers reach out, brushing against his wrist, and it jerks instinctively. He doesn’t dream, she knows because she can’t see it, but his body still reacts to the treatments he suffered. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until the door opens and Tsuna appears at her side with a handkerchief.
“Here,” he says, “You’ve got something on your face.”
He sits with her awhile, watching her watch Mukuro, and she almost feels guilty for her lack of words. She’s grateful, so grateful, yet…she can’t express it enough.
“Boss,” she turns to him, but he raises a hand.
“It’s alright,” he smiles, “I know.”
The tears come again and she bows her head against the mattress, hands fisting in the sheets as she sobs.
“Nagi.”
His voice is hoarse from disuse, not the usual velvet tone she’s grown accustomed to. Her head snaps up from the bed, and he reaches out to brush his fingers through her hair.
“Odd, isn’t it?” he chuckles, his face raised towards the ceiling and eyes closed. She knows he doesn’t have the energy to truly look at her yet.
“Yes,” she nods, “I almost…I had grown used to seeing you like this through Leo-san, but…the feel of you is different, so I know this is not an illusion.”
“Mmm,” he hums, “I can say the same. Your hair is much softer in reality.”
She flushes and he laughs.
“Chrome,” he says, and she stills as his hand slips to the back of her neck, pads of his fingers tracing over the jagged numbers engraved there, “Why did you not listen?”
“I had…I wanted to see you first, with my own eyes,” she says softly, eyes dropping to the covers, “Ken, and Chikusa…even Boss have seen you, the real you, and yet…I had not. I was…selfish.”
His fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck and he tugs gently, a chastising gesture not meant to hurt.
“You would have crumbled,” he says, “And what if I did not wish for you to see me that way, so freshly vulnerable?”
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, “As I said, it was selfishness.”
“I will not have those nightmares again,” his voice is firm, and she looks up, startled when she sees his eyes open and looking into hers, “Your dreams are enough to haunt us both for many more lifetimes.”
Her throat tightens and she ducks her head, nodding as the tears begin to fall again.
“Oh Chrome,” he sighs, and his hand moves to thumb the tears from her cheeks, “Whatever will I do with you?”
She kisses his hand, a reverent gesture, and he presses it to the side of her face. She can feel the warmth of his body through it, and that small detail makes her heart ache with joy, causing fresh tears begin to fall.