-un incubo-

A dull thudding sound engulfed his senses. The thud-thud thud-thud beat so intensely that it rang in his ears, vibrated beneath his skin, blurred his vision. His heart, it seemed, was racing. Blood thrilled through his veins, singing with vivacity. He was on the hunt. A pretty piece of prey was his tonight. A petite blonde woman hanging off his arm, giggling blithely at his carefully plucked sweet nothings. She was clearly intoxicated – though she had stated she could handle her alcohol well. Just one of many of her lies he'd exposed, though he doubted the woman had realized her mistakes. She was too busy trying to lure him into her coils, unaware that she had already been poisoned by his fangs – a python had nothing on the mamba.

All too soon, they had arrived at one of his haunts. All too soon, clothes had been shed, reminding him of the unfailing, betrayal-ridden promiscuity of the woman he had less-than-pure intentions for. Blood rushed all too soon to his lower extremities, the allure of what he had planned, dizzying. He would let this woman – whose name he cared not to remember – believe she was the cause of his frenzy.

She wouldn't be alive for too much longer, anyways.

All too soon, he reached his limit. All too soon, this nameless woman keened for post-coital embraces and more sweet nothings. This harlot who knew nothing of love, only of cold betrayal. This gold-digging tramp, too quick to move to someone new, whose last lover committed suicide in the wake of her blatant infidelity.

The woman made him sick. He wasn't sure if he was sick with himself for sleeping with her, knowing all that he did, or sick with this woman and her inhumanity. He traced a lazy pattern over her neck with his fingers, making her sigh in content, before his grip tightened, vice-like on her throat. Long fingers crushed her esophagus, held on tight. The woman tried to claw at him, but he'd made sure her arms were restrained during sex. Claw marks on his arms would just be a giveaway, evidence against him he didn't need. He narrowed his eyes at the woman's terror, shifting so he was straddling her – again – and using both hands to strangle the vile creature.

Pure animosity is what drove him. The blonde haired, blue eyed harlot had this coming to her. He stayed like that, until the woman's life force left her. He made perfectly certain that she was dead, sparing not a last glance at the woman's lifeless, glassy, once stunningly beautiful sky blue eyes.

-x-

Mukuro awoke with a start, a cold sweat enveloping his body. He choked at the memory, leaning over the edge of the bed and promptly puking his dinner from the night before, into the conveniently placed bin nearby. Then there was a hand on his shoulder, strong and sure, but gentle and comforting. Another hand was busy dabbing the sweat away from his face and neck, and cleaning away the vomit and spittle that had stuck to his chin. Just how many more nights like this would he have?

He dropped back into his pillows – far too luxurious for a criminal such as himself. He felt like he was going to be sick again, but he had nothing left. The hand that was on his shoulder had left, and instead offered him a glass of water. Without much thought, he took the glass and downed the water in one gulp. At least his throat felt a little better now. "...Tsunayoshi, what are you doing in here...?"

"You fell asleep on your feet, and nearly fell down the stairs. I caught you – though I did have Dino-san's help. We brought you back here, figuring a good night's sleep would help you." The addressed brunette's voice held an exasperated smile. Mukuro could hear it in the tone. He scoffed, turning away from the other. The memory was coming back to him.

"That doesn't mean you had to stay."

"You were having the dreams again, weren't you?" Tsunayoshi was, as usual, unaffected by Mukuro's brash words. Mostly, he expected them now. "Have you been taking the dream suppressants I got for you?"

The silence that answered him confirmed a 'no'. Tsuna sighed, and Mukuro could see him pinching the bridge of his nose even though he wasn't looking at him. Tch. As if the dream suppressants would even help – they were experimental drugs.

"At least try to take them, see if they work." The brunette – his jailer – implored. Mukuro grunted his consent. A rustling sound reached his ears, followed by the pop of a plastic cap. The heterochromatic criminal begrudgingly turned to face Tsuna, eyes reflecting bitterness in what little light there was. The brunette offered him the pills and another glass of water – the brat came prepared. Mukuro resented that. It made him feel predictable.

"Fine, and if they don't work, I won't be the one to say I told you so." He realized he was being a little childish, but at this point, he was too tired to care. Mukuro took the medication Tsuna had somehow gotten a prescription for. He really didn't want to know how. The scrawny adult at his bedside was as deceptive as he could be, sometimes even more so, given that his jailer looked far too trustworthy for anything even remotely like a fib to slip passed his lips.

"If they don't, Mukuro, we'll just have to try something else." Tsuna smiled demurely, nudging the water and the pills toward him again. "Now, take your medicine, Mukuro, or I'll force them down your throat."

The bluette flinched involuntarily. Throats. Absently, he lifted a hand and rubbed his own, as if making sure that there were no strangulation marks. He didn't see Tsuna's eyes soften.

"I'm sorry. It was just a figure of speech, though clearly the wrong one."

"Doesn't matter." Mukuro grunted, taking the dream suppressants and the water. He downed those as quickly as possible. "There, I've taken them. Are you happy now?"

"Happier." Tsuna laughed lightly, patting Mukuro on the head as if he'd been a good patient. "I'll be happy when your name is cleared and the dreams stop. I really can't have you so afraid to sleep that you stay awake for four days, fall asleep while walking, and take a particularly nasty stumble down the stairs."

"Why do you even care, anyways?" Mukuro grumbled, turning away and pulling the covers over his head to get away from Tsuna and his damnable empathy.

"Eh?" Tsuna blinked. "What kind of question is that? You and I both know you had nothing to do with these murders. It would be unjust, locking you up for something someone else did."

"Hm."

Tsuna sighed, and smiled. Mukuro couldn't see it, but he knew it was there. "Get some sleep, Mukuro. I'll be back in the morning with breakfast."

Mukuro said nothing in reply, already asleep. Staying awake for four days was draining, and then waking up only to get sick was worse. Tsuna quietly took the bag from the bin he had placed at the side of Mukuro's bed, tied it, and replaced it with a clean one.

Mukuro would be trouble to deal with in the morning. When he remembered the familiarity and kindness with which Tsuna handled him. Tsuna sighed, and smiled, taking the vomit bag, along with the two empty water glasses, to the kitchen to be dealt with accordingly.

And so marks the beginning of my first actual multi-chapter saga that isn't going to be a series of loosely intertwined drabbles, hooray!

So yes. I hope you've enjoyed. C: Next chapter will be up

...

Soon-ish. Yes.