Title: OBSOLETE
Author: Ri-Ryn
Genre: Angst/Family
Word Count: 1,036
Rating: M* (Content suitable for Mature Teens) / +T
Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn belongs to Akira Amano.
Summary: "Who are you?" Mukuro froze "What is YOUR name, Rokudou Mukuro?" His name…?
Warnings: DARK, IMPLIED CHILD ABUSE, CHILD TRAFFICKING, SEVERE/INTENSE LANGUAGE, AND IMPLIED TORTURE.
A/N: I HAVE A POLL ON MY PROFILE SO PLEASE DO VOTE! I can't stop thinking about this logic. Mukuro was part of the Estraneo family, he is also pure Italian. How the hell do you end up with a name roughly meaning "Six Divine Corpses" or so, in JAPANESE!? Mukuro is (corpse), and Rokudou is (six deities) or I think it can also mean (skeletons)-unless that was another meaning for Mukuro.
Not my best piece of writing, but I needed to get it off my chest. Next should be a prompt I asked for from the author SkyGem.
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Tsuna stared at Mukuro, sitting across from him at the private two seat dining table in the sun room. After accepting the position of Decimo at eighteen (he was twenty now), he had made it a point to have private dinners with his guardians periodically.
"What is it?" Mukuro dabbed at his mouth with the elegantly embroidered cloth napkin.
Tsuna blinked.
"You keep staring: why?"
Why indeed; questions had been plaguing Tsuna for five years now. But he was hesitant to ask. Even approaching the age he was from the trip to the future, Tsuna never felt the connection his future self had made with the future Mukuro. It frustrated him to no end, not being able to connect, so asking such a personal question…
"Vongola, answer me." Mukuro sighed, leaning forward on an elbow while his chin rested on his palm.
"Who are you?"
Mukuro blinked once, twice. "Oya?" He glared slightly. "One would think you would know who I am after six years. Obviously, I'm still Rokudou Mukuro."
"No," Tsuna said quietly, "how can you be?" The amber eyes looked up to meet the face of the illusionist.
Mukuro glowered darkly. "What are you implying Don Vongola?"
"You're pure Italian, right?" He caught the faintest nod from the other. "Then how can you have been given a Japanese name, and such a cruel one at that?"
"It is sad. I've known you for six years," the Mafia capo whispered, "What is your name, Mukuro?"
Mukuro froze, mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide. His name? He had a name. He did… It was Rokudou Mukuro, was it not? No…no…
"…" Mukuro's eyes turned glassy, unfocused. "It's…" The mist guardian stumbled over his speech, "It is…it was…is…" His voice was faint. He hadn't thought about this in over fourteen years.
Who are you?
What is your name Rokudou Mukuro?
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"And this is what we're purchasing?" The dark brown-haired Italian man stared down at him; he was examining his selected merchandise.
There had been a short, stocky man, reeking of cigarette and alcohol, musky from various other activates the man participated in while blowing money.
He had only been six.
"Yeah, it's the damn brat. Never wanted it. Bitch ran off after popping it out and leavin' it 'ere." His 'father's' words were choppy and huffed, nothing unusual since he smoked habitually, and slightly slurred, being drunk the only other thing common of him.
The boy stared. The brunette felt dangerous. He didn't want to go, even if his father didn't like him; he would live. With this strange man though…
The blue haired boy watch the exchange of what look to be euros: curious, scared, uneasy. What was it for? He couldn't remember his father ever complaining about a recent job.
"We'll take him then. What's his name?"
"Name? Ya' need one for watch'ya want 'im for?" The blue eyed man asked incredulously, slicking back a stray piece of greasy blond hair.
The brunette smiled sinisterly, sending shivers down the six year olds spine. "Not for what you think. It's how we initially organize the stock, and it makes sure they're mixed since we never know what we'll specifically need for an experiment to work. This way, we can try all different types of materials. Eventually," the man flashed his teeth, "he'll memorize his barcode number."
The man smirked- only if the boy lived long enough. "Until then, it's easier to have them respond to something familiar."
The blond snorted. "Figures," cold blue eyes focused on the young boy.
"It's Sergio."
The brunette laughed. Servant, eh? "How ironic, fate, you, and his mother were against him from the start."
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Sergio weakly glanced up, his head spinning and vision dim.
"Haha, he's still awake. He really is the perfect candidate for this project."
"I'll say. Shame, if we had known the others would die failing, we could've used them for something more suitable."
"True, but we finally found our golden egg. Ne? You would be aptly named Rokudou Mukuro after this if you live."
The man was speaking to the seven year old, to him. He was Rokudou Mukuro? But…
"More of your oriental language?"
"It is where I'm from."
"So what did you name him?"
The footsteps echoed. "It means-" The door slammed shut, halting the sound for their voices.
"It translates to Corpse of Six Deities."
"Deities, is that what you're calling this? What a strange sense of humor."
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"Mukuro?" Tsuna glanced worriedly at the unresponsive man.
"Ser…" The blue haired man licked his lips uncertainly, the name long foreign to his tongue. "Sergio," he murmured.
Sergio? Tsuna bit the inside of his cheek, guilty. That was just as bad. "Who…who named you?"
"That drunken bastard father. The woman ran after having me."
"I'm sorry." Tsuna looked away. Should he? "Is he still in Italy?"
Mukuro smiled pleasantly. "He's dead."
Tsuna paused. "You saw him again after…"
"After he was paid for me and I butchered the Estraneo?" Tsuna winced, visibly flinching. "That hyper-intuition of yours is right on target, Vongola," Mukuro said lowly, dangerously.
Mukuro stood, grasping a clean steak knife in his hand with a smirk. "After I escaped when I was nine with Ken and Chikusa, I went back to the hell hole I was born in, those two needed somewhere to stay before I left for Lancia's to start my plans. I sliced that rotten abomination open and let him spill into a back alley way and left it there."
Tsuna turned green, visibly paling before looking back at Mukuro who was leaning over the table.
"But the truth? Who I am, what is my name?" Mukuro pressed the serrated knife into Tsuna's chest, far enough to meet a rib that protected the Don's heart while twisting the blade. Tsuna made a face at the pain but was silent, his gaze unwavering from the ex-convict.
"Kufufufu," the red eye glistened in the sun's setting light while his blue eye was shadowed. "Those are wrong. I'm simply a monster without a name."
Mukuro let the knife roughly slide out of Tsuna's chest, allowing it to clatter onto the young man's cold dinner plate. "And it would do you well to remember that."
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FIN
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(Extra A/N: The name Sergio, I believe, should be pronounced serr-joe. The r is like in Spanish, where it is lightly rolled. The name does mean servant.)