A/N: Okay, so I know that this song is 6918, but I'm not very good at writing Mukuro, so I twisted it to suit my needs. So it's 1859. Because this pairing needs more love. I think Hibari's a little bit OOC in this, but I wrote it while jetlagged at 2 in the morning while listening to Sakura Addiction on repeat.
Disclaimer: I do not own KHR. As much as I want to.
Requiem
The sakura blossoms, it flutters down,
On my hand where there's nothing
Fleeting and gentle, I'm afraid it might break,
The flower that is just like you
Humans are fragile, both physically and mentally. They think they can make themselves stronger, they think they can make themselves more resilient to illusions, to delusions…
How wrong they are.
Like a flower, they die just as easily as they bloom. To grow, to search, and to become greater than a human: that was his goal. The black haired man standing under the trees looked up, feeling unease curling in his gut. He used to think he was invincible. But then, the sakura petals reminded him how weak he actually was.
His grip tightened on instinct around invisible weapons by his side, as they always did when he got to thinking. The wind rustled his hair and petals settled on his black locks. He let out a soft sigh before he closed his eyes. He wanted to yell out that he was no god, that he was no demon. He was human, living, breathing and fully…human.
"Hibari Kyouya."
It was definitive, the way his name was said. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Irony how the deranged mafia hating Mafioso that had once been his greatest enemy was now one of his most trusted comrades.
That child who slips through the gates as usual
Grabs a hold of something each day with shining eyes
For me, I repeat nothingness every day
And with a frozen heart, I close my eyes looking for the moment when the flower would blossom
"Rokudo Mukuro," Hibari still didn't turn around, his eyes looking up as the sky filled with clouds of rosy pink and vibrant red. The wind seemed to pick up, creating a small tornado, as the navy haired illusionist stepped to stand next to him, a reminder. For once, Mukuro didn't do anything. Instead, the Mist user reached his gloved hand out, catching a petal in his palm, before it flew off again.
"Is it that time of year again?" Mukuro joined Hibari in watching the sky. Hibari didn't answer, knowing that Mukuro wouldn't understand. Mukuro hadn't lost someone he cared about, someone he truly cared about. Mukuro hadn't batted an eye when he was told the news. But Mukuro himself knew that he had become quieter, had treaded the halls a lot more carefully afterwards.
He had been invincible.
Hibari Kyouya, protector and guardian of Namimori, the invincible god, held aloof from humans by divine beings themselves. Hibari Kyouya, who had lowered himself to human level when he found love in the fiery green eyes of a certain silver haired bomber who had dared to intrude on Hibari's heart, the one place the prefect kept locked up.
A bomber who, too, had believed he was invincible.
Hibari vowed never to love again. He vowed never to let the feelings that had driven him to confront the silver haired teenager when they were both young fill him again. Because when those feelings found his soul, Hibari had so much more to lose.
He now looked at the world through different eyes, through that great loss. No longer were people walking past him. They were shadows, shadows of the man that had at once been so full of life, violent, arrogant and everything Hibari was not. But that was why their relationship had worked out so well.
Hibari clenched his hands into fists and turned around sharply, walking away from the sakura trees, the sakura trees that the two of them had planted so long ago when they were still young, still naïve, their entire lives in front of them.
Mukuro didn't say anything as he watched Hibari leave, a strange feeling spreading from his chest; a feeling akin to loneliness.
The sakura blossoms, it flutters down,
On my hand where there's nothing
Fleeting and gentle, I'm afraid it might break,
The flower that is just like you
Hibari walked into the base, and noticed that it was very quiet today. As usual. It had been this quiet for the past two years. Hibari felt his lips twitch. How he hated the quiet now. How he hated everything he had once wanted.
It's amazing how you don't realize how much you love something until it's gone.
No more was the swearing, the curses or the smell of Italian food coming from the kitchen. Banished from existence was the crazy trips to the Himalayas to search for mystical creatures, the trips down to Antarctica to catch a penguin and then bring it up to the North Pole to see how it would react to living with polar bears. No more were the holes in the wall when he got frustrated and needed to vent. No more was Hibird fluttering around frantically trying to escape the claws of an angry yellow cat that hated Hibird's song.
Hibird's song: it had been awhile since that was heard too, because music reminded Hibari too much of what had previously been.
Everybody had lost something when the Storm guardian died, whether they wanted to admit it or not, it was there. It was there in the lack of life in Yamamoto's laugh. It was there in the haphazard, uncertain way Tsuna was now handling the Vongola family. It was there when Chrome kept putting out eight plates at the guardian's dinner table. It was there when Lambo kept looking for someone that would understand what he was supposed to do with his horns. It was there when even Mukuro couldn't bring out his creepy laugh, there when Ryohei's voice quieted, when Kyoko and Haru kept looking for that eighth suit to repair. And as for Hibari?
His loss was all over his face, the way his eyes seemed to grow distant whenever he passed a book, saw a flash of red. After all, Hibari lost the one person he had managed to open his heart to, the one person who knew what Hibari looked like in the moonlight, his yukata forgotten in the corner.
Hibari lost the only human that had felt his raw love.
I put away the dirtied Spike deep inside my heart
You're searching for the spring's escape route, saying that "this will do", aren't you?
Hibari sat down on his cushion, folding his hands on the table in front of him, a cup of tea sitting a few inches away from his interlocked fingers. He began to shake, a feeling of loneliness crashing over him. It was supposed to be now that his Storm should come running through the door, glasses askew and hair messed up, with a muttered apology and a hurried dash into the kitchen to prepare dinner.
It should be now that Hibari would get up from where he was sitting, place a hand on the pristine, pressed suit jacket, spin the surprised man around and press their lips together. It was supposed to be now that the receiver of the kiss would just smile and rest his head on Hibari's shoulder.
He was everywhere.
Hibari could see those flashing green eyes, the mind that whirled into motion whenever an obstacle presented itself before him. Hibari could feel the way the silver haired man moved underneath him, the vibrations as he moaned when Hibari took him, time after time, under the moon, in the garden, whenever Hibari saw fit.
The ball I lost and gave up on;
It was you who found it for me
Love.
It was something Hibari had never thought that he himself would be capable of. His own parents after all, hadn't loved him at all. Absent mindedly, his finger strayed to the scar on his side, tracing the long line. He had done the same.
"What happened here?" his voice had been quiet, concerned as his index finger stopped at the exact middle of the scar. He had been resting his head on Hibari's stomach, after one intense session, a thick book on Norse mythology propped up on his chest for a little light reading. He had turned his head and had noticed the scar.
Hibari didn't say anything, but had just continued with what he had been doing, gently, lovingly brushing out the tangles from the silky silver hair that tickled his stomach. "My father," Hibari had said finally, after the rustling of pages had told him the other had already returned to his book. "He used to abuse me. He raped me once," Hibari added off-handedly. "That's why he's no longer alive." A cruel smile seemed to fall onto the pale face, before Hibari was vaguely aware of the lack of warmth on his stomach.
"Well, you are screwed up, aren't you?"
The other had laughed, chuckled even, as he sat up next to Hibari, before Hibari was pulled on top of him, cradled in the silver haired man's strong arms. A heartbeat, strong, promising to protect Hibari (as if the prefect needed protecting!) sounded underneath the tonfa-wielder's ears and Hibari let out a small laugh, putting on what he hoped was a good impression of the other's voice. "Fuck you," he growled.
"Sorry, can't do it by myself," the silver haired man's laugh rumbled through his chest and Hibari had smirked.
"We'll just have to fix that," Hibari had turned his head and the two of them began another one of their morning sessions.
Love.
The other man had made it possible for Hibari to feel that little fluttering in his chest, the urge to be perfect just so the other wouldn't have to look upon him at his worst. He had made it possible for Hibari to blush, for Hibari to actually feel protective of another human. He had made it possible for Hibari to see his own weakness, and because he saw it, Hibari had grown stronger.
The spring comes, blossoms and prides,
The Ground sways by the wind
Stepped on firmly, burst out crying,
Looks like it might overflow
The flower that is just like you
Hibari hadn't known he was capable of crying. Tears? What were tears? Oh, these salty trickles of water leaking down my face when I look upon your peaceful expression, when that expression should be so fiery, so full of passion?
They thought they could do it.
He thought they could do it.
Hell, Hibari Kyouya thought they could do it. That's why Hibari hadn't gone with the bomber when the right hand man of the Vongola Decimo decided to try a pincer movement. The plan had seemed infallible. So why had it failed? What would have happened if Hibari had made the other stay with him? Would his silver haired anchor so stable in all his instability still be the first thing he saw when he woke up?
"Stupid, fucking, humans," Hibari let himself have a moment of vulgarity. He deserved it. A kick to the wall wouldn't suffice. Hibari went on a killing rampage. When he saw the limp body fall to the floor, shot ten times in the chest, three times in the head, Hibari had lost it.
He killed and killed and killed. The blood seeped into his shoes, stained the dark purple dress shirt that his silverette had ironed just this morning. Hibari was an avenging demon, forever cursed to walk alone, forever trying to redeem himself by avenging the one thing that might have been able to help him.
The silver haired caked with blood, the red liquid that dripped down that pale skin. The cold body that no longer held that strong, comforting heartbeat. The metal weapon that clicked loudly as the arm dropped, as the last breath escaped the body that had once been so full of life.
"You idiot," Hibari's voice was a ghost of its former glory as he knelt down, not caring about the dirt, or the rock digging into his toe.
He had taken the other in his arms, gently rocking back and forth, as weak as a child, as vulnerable as an ant to the gods of Fate above him.
I have come to retrieve the lost article
That is here, on my hand
Fleeting and gentle, I'm afraid it might break,
The flower that is just like you
When had looking at the sakura blossoms changed from being about the gunman's weaknesses to being about Hibari's own?
A sakura blossom floated through Hibari's open window, as the black haired man stood there, looking down at the garden of vibrant pink. He could still see a flash of navy blue and felt just a little bit of irony flood through him. Rokudo Mukuro, once an enemy, but now another shoulder to lean on, another anchor to this world, this world of humans.
The blossom landed on the back of Hibari's hand, graceful and beautiful as everything Hibari had lost.
He lifted it up to his face, and memories of a haunting song crossed his mind, how the other's warm body had felt next to his, how he watched with envy and with awe as the slender fingers created a beautiful, strange, but not entirely out of place piece out of thin air. Hibari realized, with a slight shock, that that had been the only time he had heard the other play for him. And it had been the day before that ill-fated mission.
"Gokudera Hayato," Hibari's breath lifted the petal back into motion and he watched as the blossom flew away from him, soaring into the skies. "You wrote your own requiem, you idiot."