I don't own KHR, but I do have an awesome Mukuro blankie and this plot to be proud of.

"Tomorrow Comes Today"

The feeble rays of the crescent moon shed little light into the desolate corridor. A young boy's footsteps, muffled by the thick carpet, barely made a noise as he softly padded through.

All he wanted was to go back to his room and fall into a dreamless sleep. Being away from one's home for a long time tends to do that.

Looking out the window, the boy could see mist tinged dark blue from the night silently creeping along even darker hills. He gazed at it, letting his mind unwind and unleash the memories they held.

Wave after wave came. Memories came of all the arguments that had sent him running to the comfort of his room where walls could block out some of the noise. Memories of feeling the cool grass crinkle beneath his feet on hot summer afternoons. Memories of...

He reached his room, quietly shutting the door, the click resounding in the silence. The boy marveled at how everything had stayed the same. Time stood still in his room, impossible to show that he had been away for two years and missed his mother's burial in the process.

It had been expected, he mused as he dressed for bed. Make no mistake, he wasn't feeling guilty for something he had no control over. Life had gone on, silly to think that it would or even could stop.

"Don't you dare speak of that! How could you make your own child-"

Was that his mother's voice, breaking from fear, running through his mind?

"You agreed to all of it! Didn't you realize this day would eventually come?"

And then there was his father's voice, uncharacteristically loud.

Shivering, the boy quickly climbed under his comforter, which was sadly still cold.

His family, in the eyes of anyone else, was simply an up and coming family of their world. His father, knowing full well how far appearances can go, had bought the mansion he now slept in a little before he was born. The man was widely known for his frugalness, sparing everything except his son's education at prestigious foreign university. But tonight the young boy bitterly wished his father would have the decency put some firewood in his fireplace, which lay in cold slumber across the way.

"You can't force it! What if he-"

Why was his mother's pleading voice echoing in his mind when all he wanted was to sleep? And who, his stomach inadvertently clenched, was the "he" she had referred to?

The answer festered in the back of his mind, but to admit it meant losing any and all hope of control in his life. The clock chimed two before the boy finally began to drift off. The last thing he heard before falling asleep was his father's voice. Cold, austere, demanding.

"Byakuran will learn...I'll make sure of it."

The morning rays that washed over the rolling hills gently woke the young boy from his slumber. Once again, he remembered nothing from his dreams. But lately, every morning he awoke with a sense of having forgotten something important. But of what? Finals were over and done with. Byakuran had hoped that returning home would stop the feeling; on the contrary it only seemed to increase.

Languidly he opened his eyes and considered getting up. He waited too long as a quiet knock at the door broke him from his reverie. One of the maids informed him that breakfast was ready in the dining room. She hesitated then shakily added, "your father wishes for you to come down soon."

Byakuran listened to her footsteps grow fainter and sighed. Just perfect.

He took his time dressing, dreading his first conversation with his father in months. It wasn't that the man was mean, he was just...callous. He belonged to that realm of people who focus on their ambition and if they so please, stop to notice the people around them.

Byakuran slowly thumped down the stairs, making it obvious he didn't want to be there. He slid into his chair and let the maid serve him.

"I pay that damn school a fortune and they don't even teach you to respect your elders?"

The young boy muttered a barely audible "good morning," and began eating his food. His father stared at him a moment longer, then shook his head and began eating as well.

"I see you've been doing well in your language classes."

Byakuran munched on his bacon.

"When you inherit it'll be a relief to know you won't stumble on your words like an idiot around the Americans." His father took a sip of his wine, and then put it down, concentrating on the glass. "Your headmaster informs me that you're top of your class again..."

Stopping in mid-chew, Byakuran waited for his father to continue.

"But you still seem to remain quite unsociable with the other students." The head of the Gesso family stared hard at his son. "You know it wouldn't hurt to make some connections before you go to university."

Addressing the toast as he buttered it, he muttered, "No, I guess it wouldn't."

"Byakuran look at me."

The command caught him unaware causing him to drop his butter knife on the plate. His father slightly grimaced at the clang it made but never took his eyes off his son. Byakuran stared hard at the tablecloth before finally shifting his eyes toward his father. Ever so slowly he met his father's gaze.

"I sent you to that school so you could learn how to properly take care of this family. I'm proud that you're excelling in your studies, but there is more to this life than scoring high marks in classes. That school can only teach you so much."

He honestly pondered this for the first time in his short life. How exactly did one go about training to become the head of a mafia family? Did they offer tutors in that area? And frankly didn't the weight fall on the shoulders of the previous family, in this case Byakuran wryly thought, his father?

"Are you implying that I should research into a better school designed to train future heads of families in the art of blackmail and murder?" Byakuran sarcastically replied.

The china clattered from the force of his father's fist meeting the table. "Don't speak to me in that tone!"

The maids were definitely not coming back anytime soon to clear the table.

"Well I figured since there was that vacation island for mafia," Byakuran half heartedly replied in defense. Which reminded him, who in their right mind started the rumor that an infant was the island's main protector? What kind of world was he expected to take charge of his family?

Byakuran's father's face was contorted between anger and surprise. Luckily for his son, the latter won out. By the time his father's deep peals of laughter died out the tension had left the room.

"Just figure out which classmates are worth keeping in touch with," he said with a chuckle as he got up. Byakuran started to speak, trying very hard to quickly put his thoughts into words, then said in a rush, "How was Mom's...?" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

An eerie silence settled over the room. His father stood at the door, his back facing Byakuran. "How do you think it was?" he answered in a tone that was hard to interpret. "It wouldn't have made a difference if you had made it," he added as an afterthought before leaving his son to digest what he said.

When the maids finally came back they shrieked and profusely apologized saying that they believed the young master had left already since they heard nothing from the dining room. But how strange, they whispered to themselves afterwards, he never took his eyes off the door, as if deep in thought.

Now what? For two years Byakuran had anxiously awaited returning to his home and the freedom that came with it. No classes to be on time for, no seminar he couldn't miss, and most importantly no curfew. But now his free time seemed to swallow him. And the feeling that he was forgetting to go somewhere or see someone was only growing as the day went on. He walked through alleys and past dozens of shop, all while pondering the same question.

Why did he even want to come back to this town?

He had just walked past a gelato shop when someone called out his name. Tony, the gelato shop owner, had seen him pass by and invited him to sit down and enjoy a complimentary cup. Most people would expect the owner to do so since the Gesso family was one of the most influential families in the area. But Tony had always had a soft spot for Byakuran since the boy began coming to his shop with his mother many years ago.

"It's been awhile since I've seen you! My God, you've sprouted!" Tony bellowed with a wide smile. He jokingly patted Byakuran's lanky arms and back. The owner was one of the few people in town that had no qualms talking to their family like they were regular people. Most of them believed that since the Gesso family had money, they were on a different level. And those who didn't care about money were scared of the mafia ties the family held. It was all true to a certain extent. Byakuran's father made sure to teach him how big the status gap was between their family and the families of the country town they lived in. But Byakuran couldn't care less about the importance of their class. If the townspeople found any haughtiness in his manner, it was simply boredom in disguise.

Tony asked the usual set of questions one would expect after meeting an old friend. How was the international school in Switzerland? Any cute girls waiting for him back there? So sorry to hear about his mother's passing. Byakuran answered them all politely. (Fine, hell no, and thank you for your condolences.) He gave a rare and genuine smile to the proprietor after he finished his generous gelato scoop.

"Make sure you bring a girlfriend next time!" Tony laughed as he waved goodbye, inwardly chuckling at sight of the young boy's face turning a faint pink.

Byakuran's outlook on life was slightly elevated by Tony's easy-going personality, but it wasn't long before the restless feeling came back. It wasn't so much that the town was boring, but every fake smile from the shopkeepers he passed by reminded him of his fate. A fate that he would never have any control over. Such irony. The one place he thought he would feel free was slowly becoming his prison.

Did he have nothing else to look forward to? One more year and then off to oh so wonderful university. Thanks to his home tutors as a child, he had skipped two grades when he entered school. When he turned 16 next year, he would also receive his high school diploma. Byakuran meandered through the streets as he pondered what kind of destiny his father had decided on. So far the Gesso family had done nothing out of the ordinary, but there was always that nagging feeling that his father had…big plans for him.

Not paying attention to where he walked, Byakuran didn't notice the cobbled streets gave way to fields of flowers. Purple flowers that had already lost their brilliance flew past him.

"They're lovely. They match your eyes perfectly!"

There was her damn voice again, reminding him that although he tried to put up an apathetic facade, his heart could still feel pain.

"How come we can only see you at certain times?"

Had it all started back then? The first time his mother left them to go there, leaving a small boy unsure of what to believe. The fields of flowers gave way to pastures. Byakuran didn't stop running.

"It's only for a little while dear, and then I'll be back home."

Back then he had been so naive. A boy of eight can only understand so much, even when he's told lies.

"Promise? I made you a Mother's Day gift and everything but father says I can't give it to you cuz they'll take it away."

So stupid. Byakuran finally slowed down to notice the pastures that lay as far as he could see.

His mother had come back home safely that time. It was as if her stay at that enigmatic place had never happened. Life returned to normal.

But not this time. This time there would be no one to put the flowers he found in a vase. There would be no one to hold him when the screams from his night terrors woke him up.

Byakuran had now come to a small river that wound its way through the area. It was usually shallow and calm, except at one bend where a bridge had to be constructed because of the depth. It was unusually high and strong, probably due to the recent rains. The arch formed a perfect circle as its reflection trembled in the water.

Byakuran took a few deep breaths, barely realizing how tired he was. Resting his arms on the rail he slowly exhaled.

What happened next, dear Reader is very peculiar and as it occurred in a split second, many would be at a loss to say what exactly was running through the young boy's mind.

The bridge was made of wood, sturdy, yet still at the mercy of the elements. It so happened that the exact spot Byakuran chose to rest at gave way almost instantly. Byakuran was still young and it is obvious that someone like him must have quick reflexes and should have no trouble at all.

Except, in that moment before jerking back, Byakuran saw with startling clarity his father at the table, barking out orders and reviewing papers. He saw himself at school, mindlessly taking it whatever his teachers were taking. And, this perplexed him the most, he saw his mother resting on the edge of a bed speaking to someone. He tried to make out who she was talking to, but instead the feeling of having forgotten something exploded in his mind. He cried out, angry at his confusion and reached for his mother.

He fell headfirst into the freezing water. The current was not that strong, but Byakuran had no desire to fight back. It wasn't at all like what he expected.

He waited. Waited for the numbness to take over until nothing remained.

Sweet sweet nothingness.

...

...Nothingness sure felt warm.

Well there ya have it. I'm gonna try hard and update this baby at least once a month since well…it's good to have self imposed deadlines. Ugh, the first chapter came out emo, but I want the overall tone to be like the song I take this story title from. This was more of a prologue, so hope you enjoyed!

Oh and yes that is a Gorrilaz song as the chapter title, youtube it!