He wandered down the streets aimlessly, his mind hazy and vision blurring.
He had gone days and days without a meal or rest, only drinking water from the common downfalls and nearby rivers.
The boy dragged his trident along, the blood still on his clothes from killing the men.
Killing them.
And making them go through the pain he had.
The boy, Mukuro Rokudo, saw a blurry carriage heading his way. He tried to move out of the way, but didn't make it in time.
He collapsed out of exhaustion and felt his back get crushed, his spine breaking. Mukuro tried to scream, but his expression only twisted into one of pain, and blood poured out of his mouth.
He heard faint shouts in the background, but his world went dark.
"Oh no!" The woman exclaimed, hurriedly exiting the carriage. "You stupid butler, you hit a young boy!"
"I-I'm terribly sorry Your Majesty!"
The carriage immediately was drawn back and a few servants ran forward to tend to the small child.
"H-How horrifying!" The Queen's eyes widened, seeing the blood spreading across the ground, the strange blue-haired boy's frame covered in the sticky red substance. "Hurry! Bring him to the carriage, we will head for the palace as fast as possible!"
As the carriage began to move, the Queen watched as her two servants/guards bandaged the boy, placing him on some spare sheets as ordered. She saw the trident in his hand, which was intricate and oddly shaped. 'Now what is a boy like him doing with such a dangerous weapon?'
She waved it off for now, glancing at him now and then, worrying. The poor boy's chest was weakly rising and falling, wheezing heard.
When they arrived, the servants ran to the doctor, who quickly began to tend to the poor boy. The Queen watched as the doctor placed a cast around the boy's chest, focused on his back and a brace around his neck.
Just as the doctor had finished his job (rather quickly, very quickly), the boy opened his eyes. His right eye was a beautiful blue, while his right bright red, a strange symbol in it.
"Who...are you?" He asked weakly.
"I am Doctor Frederick Harles," the doctor introduced.
"No...her," the boy stated, turning his head slightly to face the Queen. The 50-somewhat old woman smiled gently at him, making him flinch slightly.
He was not used to such affections.
"I am Queen Victoria of England, what's your name, boy?"
"...Mukuro. Mukuro Rokudo," he said slowly, clearly on edge.
"You were on the street alone, why?" The doctor asked. "It's dangerous for a child your-"
"I would have been able to handle it if I had eaten, but a body like mine can't hunt," Mukuro interrupted, frowning.
"How long has it been since you've last eaten a meal?" The doctor asked, uneasy by the boy's response.
"Almost three weeks," he stated, eyes becoming heavy again.
"Good heavens! Regina! Go tell the cook to prepare some soup right away!" Victoria commanded, turning around. A maid nodded and ran out the door. "Why on Earth were you alone, child?"
"..." Mukuro said nothing, opting to narrow his eyes. I don't want to talk about it.
Victoria seemed to understand, but frowned nonetheless. She thought for a moment before smiling. "You'll have to stay here until you've recovered, all right?"
Reluctantly, Mukuro agreed.
And thus began his new, bright life.
As the blue haired boy regained enough strength to walk without suffering too much pain from his back (he still had a brace around it), he began to help the servants with their work, but spent most of his time in the library, reading away.
Regina would tutor him on how to read and write English, and Italian (which he had requested for some reason), before she saw him writing something in an odd calligraphy. "Is that Chinese?"
Mukuro looked up and thought for a moment, looking at the symbols. "No, it's a language called Nihongo. It's from my home country."
"Where's your home country?" Regina asked, and he frowned.
"I don't know...I remember growing up there, before being taken away by an Italian mafia and being used as a test subject. That's how I got my eye to look like this," he elaborated. Regina frowned.
"I see..." She sat down, and the two talked a bit about this Nippon and Nihongo. Over the one to two years Mukuro had taken residence in the palace, he had grown close to the servant girl.
Eventually, his neck and spine had healed entirely (a large scar along his back), and he stood at the gates, wearing a black coat Victoria had given him, a white shirt and black pants tucked into his pair of boots. He was about 9 years old now, having arrived almost four years ago.
"Mukuro, my boy, I have a proposition," Victoria said, and Mukuro turned to her, his heterochromatic eyes gazing at her. "Would you like to become my son?"
His eyes widened in shock, and he turned to face her, the tip of his (altered and improved) trident in the dirt.
"I can't stand the thought of you leaving me as well," she explained sheepishly, looking at the ground. "I know it's rather selfish of me, but I just can't stand it."
The two stood in silence, before a small tear slipped down Victoria's cheek. Mukuro opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
His expression softened and he walked up to her, suddenly chuckling.
"Kufufufufufufu...of course...
"MOTHER."