Six Ways (that Mukuro lives and dies)
by Asael
Sometimes Mukuro remembers things.
He has no control over this. He knows he's lived many lives, knows it in his bones, like anyone else would know their own name or their mother's face. He's known it since he woke up one day, cramped and cold, an eye that he instinctively knew how to use aching in his skull.
He knows it, but he can't remember those lives. It never bothers him. This life is the one he needs to focus on now.
But sometimes things come back to him, as vivid as if he's just woken up from a dream, as vivid as one of his flawless illusions. He knows they aren't dreams or illusions, he knows that they're memories.
The first time it happens they're in rural Italy. He still only has a little blood on his hands (can a whole mafia family be called little?) and they've broken into an abandoned, run-down house so that they can sleep out of the rain. Mukuro is the only on still awake, keeping watch over the other two. His gaze falls on Ken, curled up tight to stay warm, and he remembers.
He is a young boy, thin and undernourished, playing soldier. Until he joined this army, he didn't even know the name of the land he lived in. He still can't read or write it, but then why would he need to do such a thing?
He was born to crushing poverty, living on a few scraps a day. But so is everyone around him, toiling in the fields to fill their lord's coffers. That is life. He will grow bent and withered and old doing the same thing his parents had done, and theirs before them.
He doesn't. Instead, his family and the rest of the village become casualties in the war they barely knew they were fighting. He survives by chance, but his home is destroyed, his family and everyone he has ever known.
He wanders, stealing food when he can and going hungry more often than not. He is too young to be of use to anyone, not when they can take their pick from thousands of other refugees.
One day, he finds a dead dog. He's hungry, but it's covered with flies, and he's about to walk away when he sees movement.
It's a puppy, barely old enough to open its eyes. Its mother and brother and sisters are all dead, and somewhere inside the dull hungry mist of his mind the boy thinks it's as alone as he is. He takes it with him. He feeds it, even if it means he goes hungry, and it loves him more than anything else ever had or ever will. They're together from then on.
Eventually he joins the army. He doesn't care about the war, but they offer him at least one meal a day, and they are desperate enough to take half-grown, malnourished boys.
He doesn't care when he kills his first man, or woman, or child. At least he kills them quickly, so they won't suffer like he did. He will never be a brave hero, but he does his job and earns his meals, which he splits with the dog, who growls at anyone else who comes near.
It doesn't last long - his life as a soldier, his life in general. The only time he ever cries is when he sees the hero - on his side, the one who leads them into battle each day - kill his dog in irritation at its hatred for anyone who is not him. He cries and does nothing, and the next day in the thick of battle he hamstrings the hero's horse and stabs him to death with one quick thrust while he's on the ground.
He is seen, of course, and just like the hero, he dies with another's sword in his guts.
He doesn't care. This life was worthless anyway.
Mukuro isn't frightened by that first memory. His eyes linger on Ken for a moment longer before he looks out into the rainy night. It won't happen like that again, he thinks, and smiles.
***
It happens many times after that. The next time is not too long after, though, while they're still on the run, before they're sent to that dark, dank prison for the first time. Chikusa is making them dinner - stolen pasta boiled over a stolen camp stove in stolen pots - while Ken is out doing reconnaissance. Tomorrow they'll kill some useless mafia thugs, but for today things are quiet.
Mukuro's eyes are closed, trying to snatch a few moments of sleep. Sleep is rare for Mukuro in those days, which is fine because soon enough he'll have nothing else to do.
He listens to the sounds of Chikusa cooking, his mind somewhere completely different.
He is a young man, venturing into the jungle with his brother. They are close in age, so they have always been close in spirit, despite his younger brother's silences and reticent personality.
The rest of the village thinks he's an odd boy because he likes to go into the dangerous jungle alone, walk near the river, braving leopards and hippos and who knows what else for no apparent reason. But his brother never questions him, simply follows along when he can and watches his back. He is never injured in the jungle, and he keeps his brother safe, too.
It's a quiet life, unmarked by conflict or strife, except for occasional squabbles with neighboring villages, a fact of life - a tradition, really. They grow vegetables and spear fish in the river. He teaches his brother where to find the birds' nests, and they steal an egg and hatch it, raising the chick to eat out of their hands.
His brother rarely smiles, and all the village thinks they're equally odd. But he can see the happiness in his brother's eyes when they're together, and after all, who else do they really have but each other?
One day, they return from the jungle to find strange men in their village. They don't speak the language, but they have a man from nearby who explains that they are searching for something of great value, and they need a guide who will take them through the jungle to a place marked on their map. He doesn't understand the map, but he knows the place they want, so he takes them.
His younger brother wants to come, but he refuses to bring him. Something is wrong with these men, something that makes his skin crawl. He leads them to where they want to go, and he sees their greed. It disgusts him. They think he doesn't understand the value of what they seek, but it's not true. He understands that they value it, he simply doesn't care. What is gold good for, anyway?
He realizes that now that they know what they want is here, they'll return again and again. They'll stop at nothing, driven by that greed.
He doesn't take them back to the village. He takes them even deeper into the jungle, until even he is lost. They get angry, they get scared, they try to force him to lead them back. He refuses, unafraid.
They'll eventually all die in that jungle, but he is the first, killed by a weapon he's never even seen before he met these men. He bleeds to death from a gunshot wound, blood painting the leaves on the ground red, but his only regret is that now his brother will be alone.
It's all right. They'll meet again one day.
When Mukuro eats dinner that night, he thanks Chikusa for cooking. Chikusa is surprised, but he says nothing. That night, Mukuro stands guard as he usually does. He watches Ken and Chikusa sleep, and he feels strangely content.
***
Meeting the young Vongola heir is an interesting experience. There are few people who can beat Mukuro, after all. The encounter doesn't go as he had hoped, and after a few unfortunate twists of fate he finds himself floating in a tank, fighting beside the mafia that he hates so much.
It's a ridiculous situation, and one day he's called upon to help the boy. He watches through Chrome's eyes, fighting the slippery Arcobaleno. Afterwards, he's exhausted from the effort of extending his powers so far. He sleeps, and he dreams.
He's a woman this time, born into the lower nobility. She's a product of her father's travels, her mother a foreign woman who cannot fit in even in their small country estate. She is raised as a good young noblewoman, but she learns strange customs at her mother's knee - they seem like children's tales, but she knows they're far more than that. Her mother dies when she is still young, yearning for her homeland.
She marries up, thanks to her exotic beauty and her father's political maneuvering. She doesn't love her husband, doesn't really care for him at all, but that's not particularly strange. She does her duty.
Like her mother, she isn't accepted into the glitter of this new world. Unlike her mother, she has a calculating mind and the pride of a princess, and she notices every snub and sly insult, every servant sent to 'accidentally' spill wine on her gown. These are the same things that hounded her mother to her death, she knows. She doesn't try to win them over, cool and cruel to the point that eventually they fear her instead of finding excuses to humiliate her.
One of the other ladies, a new wife like her, tries to befriend her. She has pink cheeks, wide innocent eyes, and a hesitant manner, but she believes in the good in people and she doesn't believe the rumors that are whispered in her ear. She married above her station too, and she feels for the dark woman with the cool smile.
Their friendship is tentative, one disliking the kindness and the other half-afraid, but it blooms slowly. At the same time, things are going wrong. Crops are failing, people are falling sick - other ladies, nobility like them, when such illnesses should strike only the peasants. A calf is born with two heads.
The crop failure is natural, the illness isn't. She is very careful, but not careful enough. A maid finds something in her room, carved wood and bone and the same magic that runs through her blood. It's nothing, really, but she was already under suspicion simply for being who she is.
Sequestered in her rooms before the trial, her husband doesn't visit her, but her friend does. Her friend begs her to repent, ask for mercy, claim innocence. But instead she ever so carefully seduces the blue-eyed lady - a hand on her wrist, lips brushed against the curve of a cheek. It's wrong, but her friend hardly resists. Spellbound, but not by any dark magic. It's sweet and so much better, giving pleasure this way, and she regrets nothing but that she didn't try it sooner.
Her friend never forgets that night, and the words whispered in her ear afterward that nearly break her heart - not words of love, but a confession of guilt and dark magic.
Three days later the dark lady is burned alive. When they light the fires she smiles, because for once these misguided fools have caught something real. The last thing she sees is her friend in the crowd, crying, and she thinks, do not be so blind. If you look only at people's goodness, they will betray you in the end.
But she feels a pang of guilt.
Tsunayoshi may never learn that lesson, Mukuro thinks when he wakes, relaxed in his illusory paradise. Even now he doesn't understand that way of reaching out to those who may hurt you. It should be like the bright colors of reptiles - a signal to stay away, stay away.
Some people just don't learn.
***
When he first meets Chrome, he sees himself in her. He helps her, he saves her, and he uses her. She's vital, his best connection to the outside world. He peers through her eyes and walks through her dreams, and neither of them are ever really alone.
And of course, eventually he sees echoes, one night as Chrome whispers in his mind, telling him her thoughts and fears.
He is powerful and ruthless. He rose from the youngest son of a lord's unfavored concubine to become one of the Emperor's most celebrated generals. Despite what they say, none of it is due to his father's influence, but rather his own intelligence and complete lack of fear.
They say he burned four of the mountain villages down to the ground because they spoke against the emperor, but it isn't true. It was only two, the others he had nothing to do with. He doesn't really care for warfare, but he's good at it, just as he's good at manipulating the social fabric of court life. They all hate him, but none can go against his power and influence.
He doesn't really care about the emperor either, but he knows what's good for him. He doesn't really care about anything except the amusement of seeing his enemies fail until his son is born.
He is still young himself, but he needs an heir, and for only that reason takes a wife. She dies of illness not long after giving birth, and he doesn't mourn her. He thinks of the child, though, and visits it in the care of the midwife - it's small and loud, fragile and useless. For some reason, he takes a personal interest in affairs that would normally be left to tutors and nannies, and he raises the child himself. From a baby into a young man, even if he will not admit he loves his son, he still protects him from the toxic politics of the court and teaches him how to live his life.
They don't seem to be similar at all. His son is quiet and gentle, kind where his father is cruel and cold. He cares little for war, and when he smiles, he means it - unlike his father's smiles, which are seen often and are always insincere.
In his son, he sees himself and what he could have been, and he is careful to give his son the things that he never received - guidance, companionship, freedom. In return, his son grows to love him above all else, wanting more than anything to please his father and see one of those rare, true smiles.
When his son has nearly become a man, rumors begin to fly in the court, saying that the emperor will bring his favored general into the imperial family. He will offer his younger daughter's hand, but none of the whisperers are sure whether it will be to the general - still far from old - or to his son.
It's unlucky news. He doesn't want his son dragged into the mess of the emperor's court. He navigates it with ease, but he knows his son would not survive long. He sends the boy away, to a far-off temple, more than three months' journey away across mountains and deserts. The life of a monk will suit him far better. Their parting is painful and permanent. He never sees his son again.
When the announcement of the general's engagement to the emperor's daughter becomes public, all of his enemies - and there are many - come out of the woodwork. If they allow this union, he will have power over them that he never did before, power that they know he will use to destroy them completely. It's only smart to try to prevent it.
He is able to keep himself safe from the political and the social attacks, but the assassination attempts are somewhat more difficult. Poison in his meals, attempted arson, and finally one succeeds. While bathing, he is attacked and overpowered. Though he is strong and accomplished, he is also outnumbered. They is force him under the water until he gasps and breathes it in, until his lungs fill, so it will look like he simply slipped and fell in.
He curses the servants who must have betrayed him, the guards who crept away in the night. But as the world goes dark, the last thing he thinks is: my son will be safe.
Mukuro floats soundlessly in his own watery prison, and listens, and thinks that Chrome's voice sounds so much like that long-ago boy's.
***
After the debacle with Sawada Tsunayoshi, Mukuro keeps an eye on Hibari Kyoya. He watches through Chrome's eyes sometimes, and when he's very bored, he walks through Hibari's dreams. They're easy to get into, and he leaves no trace of himself behind. It's an interesting distraction. Hibari's dreams are full of lines and boxes, perfect order barely contained, with occasional bursts of confusion or anger or passion.
It's so different from Mukuro's own dreams that he finds it rather comforting. When he walks there, it's easy to slip into his own thoughts, even his own strange memories.
He'll die like a dog one day, he knows. That's the fate to be expected for a spy, and he'll receive no mercy. But he thinks it's worth it, to strike back against the ones who have hurt him, his family, his people. The ones who came into their land and decided they would be the masters.
He's an idealist, in some ways, with dreams of driving them out forever, but mostly he knows that his life will end one day and his name will be forgotten. It almost is already.
The only one who ever calls him by name is his lover. It is luck, not his own machinations, that leads him into the path of this man, a handsome young officer with cold eyes. What they do together is wrong by all standards of the officer's land, but this isn't his land. If an officer wants to dally with a native, even a native boy, people will look the other way and keep their judgments to themselves.
So he becomes the officer's servant - a common job for his people, and a good excuse for keeping him around to warm the officer's bed each night. A perfect situation for him, making it easy to overhear things, read documents in a language he's not supposed to be able to understand - but he has always been smart.
It's not quite perfect, though, because sometimes he feels guilty. Sometimes, in the middle of the night when the officer is moving inside him, he hears things - sweet words, things he's never heard before, his name called in a way that almost sounds like love.
He thinks he should have used a false name. It would be easier if the officer were cruel to him, but despite his job and his cold eyes he is fair to his servants, though he never treats them as equals.
Sometimes it feels like it would be so easy to forget who he is, who they both are, and sink fully into this illusionary life.
But he hates the officer's people, and often he hates the officer too - he knows what the young man has done to others like him, even while bedding one of the people he treats like uneducated animals. He cannot reconcile his feelings, he thinks it would be be impossible for anyone, and so he buries the tenderness he feels deep down and does what he came for, expressing it only in caresses in the dark of night. He justifies it - it's necessary, to stay safe.
It ends as he knew it would. A contact of his is captured, tortured, and can't hold out. One night he is taken from the officer's house. To his surprise, the officer is taken too, and he listens as they use words like 'traitor' and 'treason'. The officer is angry, he was unaware of the danger he was harboring, but there is no hope for him, surrounded by 'colleagues' who resent his success.
They share a cell, waiting for their interrogation and execution. The officer now looks at him with only loathing in his eyes, whispered words a far away memory. He will not admit that it hurts. The torture they face before their execution will hurt more, anyway.
As a concession to his rank, the officer receives a real last meal, tea and bread and meat. Echoing his old role, he serves the officer. When he meets those eyes and sees only hate, he smiles. Things are as they should be. He kisses the officer and it not pushed away, but afterwards he tastes blood from his bitten lip.
He sits near the officer so it is easy for him to see when the poison takes hold. He watches the officer die, stands witness to his last moment, stroking his hair as he struggles for breath.
After, he has to spend the night with his dead lover, thinking of nothing. The poison was meant for him to take. He should not have wasted it, and if asked why he would be unable to answer. Perhaps to spare the one he loves from pointless torture. Perhaps out of hate, one last strike against his enemies.
Deep inside, he knows it's simply because he himself would rather be killed by one who loves him than one who kills out of hatred, and he wants to give this man something.
Now there is the chance he'll give something away under torture. He knows that he is stronger than that, and he is right. The next day, he gives nothing away, only laughs until all he can do is scream from the pain. When they finally execute him, he is thankful. He smiles.
He wonders if he'll meet the officer again in hell.
Mukuro thinks that it will take some time before Hibari hates him that much. But then, who knew - maybe karma will lead him to die by Hibari's hand. Bitten to death, and certainly not out of love.
He laughs and strolls through Hibari's Kyoya's dreams.
Hibari will remember a very odd one the next morning.
***
For the Vongola and for his own goals, he sinks deep undercover, walking the halls of the Millefiore base in the body of a young man. He watches the man called Byakuran, watches the way he lives, and in a strange way he admires it. Mostly, however, he finds Byakuran both dangerous and irritating. Byakuran's gaze makes his skin crawl sometimes, though it's second nature to smile and act servile.
One day he's watching Byakuran eat marshmallows, one after another, and he is unable to keep himself from remembering for the last time - though for once, he tries.
It begins as one of the calmest memories he has. He is a woman again. She is a smart child, born to parents who love her, and she grows up fast and learns even faster. It's difficult for people to get close to her, but nevertheless she is admired - beautiful and smart, never needy. She has few friends and few enemies. Her life is easy, unmarked by strife.
When she becomes an adult, she lives life as an independent woman, a choice that her generation pioneers. She goes to college and lives with roommates, has a lover here and there. She floats through life.
One day she fights with her roommate over something trivial. She talks a walk to calm down, she knows that she is too cruel when angry and she doesn't want to say something that can't be taken back. She walks for a long time, thinking, and when it begins to rain she realizes she's far from home.
She is walking back through the rain when a car stops next to her. She knows the man inside, he is a friend of her father's - he's often come to parties and dinners, and he's always been kind to her. He offers her a ride, and she gladly accepts.
He looks worried once she's inside the car, shivering and wet. He tells her his home is nearby, and she can warm up there if she'd like. Not ready to return to her apartment, she agrees. He takes her to his house, brings her inside. It's warm and dry. He lives alone, but she doesn't worry. She doesn't think to worry. She's always been able to take care of herself.
He makes her cocoa, and although it's a weak blend, with more marshmallows than liquid, she drinks it to be polite. It tastes a little bitter, but the sickening sweetness of the marshmallows masks it enough to drink.
They talk, about school and family and nothing at all. He's friendly and funny, like he's always been, but his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. She realizes she's never been alone with him before. Her body feels heavy.
The rain lets up, but he doesn't take her home. Instead, he holds her down on his hardwood floor and rapes her, whispering things in her ear like a real lover would. 'I've wanted to do this for so long' and 'Aren't I lucky to see you today' and 'You like it'.
She can hardly move, can't fight, though she tries harder than she's ever tried to do anything. She hates him so much that she can barely see, barely breathe. That hate doesn't even change to fear when he wraps his hands around her throat. She tries to scream, spit in his face, but she can't get any air. She tries to fight the drug coursing through her body, making the world hazy and her limbs weak, but the most she can do is scratch ineffectually at his hands. She wishes their positions were reversed so she could kill him slowly, make him beg for death, she hates him that much.
The last thing she sees before the world goes dark is his smile, smug and satisfied. The last thing she feels is hatred at this man and at her own weakness.
Mukuro shakes the memory off and brings Byakuran a new report. He knows this man's smile is the same as the one he remembers, the one he still hates. He thinks to himself: I will not allow this creature to be the end of me. Then he smiles, and walks away.