Disclaimer: KHR! does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Amano, etc.
Prologue: A New Beginning
He wakes up in hell.
That is his first thought anyway. The place stinks of fear and suffering and despair – with a thin veneer of sterility, disinfectant and latex, like a hospital. He can hear callous adults discussing something. It takes him a moment to decipher their words: they are discussing their experiments. Underneath this conversation, he hears whimpering and moaning – sounds of obviously frightened children. He is lying on a cold metal table, perhaps one used in operations or the like. His right eye throbs, and the rest of his body aches.
He decides it isn't hell. He knows hell, has walked through it and emerged relatively unscathed and stronger for the experience. It is close enough though. At least the people stuck in hell deserve to be there. He is fairly certain he does not deserve it; his last memory is of dying, to save another. His last life was lived to protect others.
His next thought is: One request. One fucking request. I give my life for her, and she couldn't even do that for me. Rage washes through him, but he is too out of sorts to maintain it.
He opens his eyes (his right appears to be covered) then shuts them immediately as blinding white light assaults them.
"He's awake!" someone says excitedly. He flinches, knowing instinctively that they are referring to him.
Suddenly there are many people crowding around him, though thankfully none touch him.
Mustering his strength, he slits his eyes open. At first he simply sees white with blurs of shadow where he knows he should see people studying him intently. A few moments later they resolve into faces – but most are deformed or stitched up in places. Given that light still manages to filter through to his right eye, he decides that a light bandage must be covering it.
"Do you know who you are?" another voice asks, eager anticipation poorly hidden. He glances dully at the speaker, as if he doesn't understand what they're asking. Of course he knows who he is; a dozen names, a dozen personas, identities, spring to his mind, and he also knows who this body used to belong too. He pretends not to, not until he can determine what these people want.
(And he is almost one-hundred percent certain he will not go along with them.)
A disappointed sigh from another of the people who are crowding around him. "That woman said implanting the eye would give him control over this body."
This time the rage comes, and stays. He will kill them all, and then track her down and... What? Demand an explanation? Pretend like nothing happened and resume protecting her? He thinks not. Something along the lines of slow, agonizing death sounds more appropriate. And so what if he protected her in his previous life? She paid him back with betrayal, so it is only fair that he returns the favour.
"Do you know about the six paths of rebirth?" the first voice asks him, and his gaze flickers over to the speaker. Perhaps they sense his anger, because they take a step back.
A small part of him feels sorrow; he had trusted her, and now she had betrayed him. Not only that, but it seemed as if she had spilled almost all of his secrets. But mostly he feels rage.
He gathers his strength – this body is young, weak (malnourished?) and definitely not an ideal host. But he will make do. Besides, he has the element of surprise. Focusing his energy into his left hand, he summons his trident.
"She told us he would-" someone begins to say, and he slashes their throat open. The spray of blood is not unfamiliar, and then they are dead. He has already moved on to the next.
Some of the other children attempt to come to the adults' aid. He kills them too.
When he stops, two others are all that remain, staring at him with a mixture of fear and awe. Blood is splattered on the walls, and on himself.
He chuckles bitterly, the habitual sound transformed into something unfamiliar when it emerges from this young body's mouth. No matter; he will become accustomed to it, as he always has.
"This world is worthless," he states, ripping the bandage away from his right eye. "I'll erase it all." He turns to regard the two survivors fully, a dark smirk on his lips. "Do you want to come with me?"
And so it begins.
Whew. I'm kind of trying something new with my writing style for this story. And in case it's not obvious, this is from Mukuro's perspective, except he will never be referred to as such, unless the story is being told by someone else's perspective.
So. . What did you think of it? Feedback/criticism is always appreciated.