Rated: T for something definitely deserve to be titled rated-T material XD
Summary: Three men in Chrome's life. Three men who created her, attracted her, completed her. Burnt her into herself / Chronologically 6996, 2796 and 1896.
Author's Note: Everyone and their mother already wrote a Katekyo Hitman Reborn fanfic and here I am late to the party. To add salt to injury, this fandom is now spammed with shonen ai fangirls – no offence to you all :3 And the people in my country don't... exactly... love Chrome... *cry a river*
Doesn't exactly follow the timeline at all, but it does contain spoiler.
Also one friendly reminder that this isn't a harem fic, no matter how much I love all96 – and believe me, I do.
Update: An anon reviewer informed me that I've plagiarized two lines from another fic. I. I've no excuses for this, other than the fact that I myself didn't know. I'm very very sorry. I tried to fix this by changing every phrase that doesn't seem like mine (translation: every phrase that doesn't sound awkward and pretentious XD). However, my knowledge is limited, so if you can still find any line that is not mine, please do not hesitate to inform me. Again, I apologize for this. Please forgive me.
Disclaimer: If I did own Katekyo Hitman Reborn, there would be too much 186996 hints that the ship would become more than obvious and even more than enough XD The song Just be friends belongs to dixie :3 Translated lyrics belong to original owners :3
She lost him.
i. mukuro.
Mukuro was in her memories amongst the foggy haze, etched brightly and numbly on her impression. Crystal-clear sky and blood and hope clashed loudly in her mind, and he was there too. So bright, so scarred, so hopeful. When she was there, still tiny and scrambled with hurt layering deep under porcelain skin, Mukuro was already standing tall and handsome in daylight. Where she was clumsy and desperate and already gave up on the world, he clung to it with everything he had, fire burning in those mismatched eyes and determination so bright it almost blinded her.
He gave her hope where no-one and nothing could, when everyone – and even Chrome herself – had already given up. Stay, he smiled charmingly, almost nonchalantly; it wasn't a request but an order, and she obeyed without questions.
She was fascinated with his world – a whole new horizon Nagi hadn't known of, darker, crueler, freer. Instead of staring at her with disgust, now they feared. The purple flame that once made people sneered and spat at her now became the symbol of power. Fright written in those brows and scars whenever her petite form materialized. Respect.
He had been living in this, had even crawled his way up the top. Oh, how she worshiped him, the way he exclaimed proudly to the world, the tiny playful smirk never leaving his thin lips, I'm here; shadow sinews and tendons playing with his skin but never, never could drown him. She pulled her hair up like him, in the same hairstyle; choosing the same weapon like his, and tried, tried to be so carefree and perfect.
She was Chrome, after all. She was him in reverse. She was tied to him. Her life depended on his.
(Chrome had hoped, oh, she had hoped against hope that the need, the feeling, was mutual.)
"Mukuro-sama," one day, she tilted her head slightly and whispered. Mukuro hummed quietly. Blue eye followed her movement as slender fingers fidgeted awkwardly, his hand didn't stop trailing along the cold material of his trident.
"Yes, my dear Chrome?"
"When can I be like you?"
His eyes studied her, carefully calculating and weighing everything she gave out; she dreamed of his refinement, his skill, his balance, him. A sliver between different worlds, a slight wind brushing against one's skin teasingly before completely disappearing, a storm of emotions boiling in cold surface. The weapon clattered with a loud noise, falling on tiled floor with ease. His hand claimed her own; thin lips pressing softly against her hand like she was already a queen. You will be, my cute Chrome, you will be; he promised, but even Mukuro had no idea when, or how.
His kisses tasted of ember, hot and musky, powerful and all possessive. He was pale and lean, strong and beautiful against her touch; Mukuro claimed her as his all the way. Purple bruises littered the pale column of her neck, tender skin flushed under his touch, his gaze left goosebumps and tingling sensation down her spins. She pulled his hair out of the ponytail, blue ink flowing down her waiting fingers. Poem and beautiful words and ideas and lotus were carved in his skin, cracking open under her touch. She trembled under his fingertips, a fine moan carved out the hollow under her jaw.
He needed her.
Nobody ever did.
Chrome was contented with this. There was nothing else to ask for. This was fine, staying with him, looking at him, needing him. For he was Mukuro and she was Chrome. They were one and the same, relying on each other in this cruel, beautiful world.
But it was never enough.
Deep down, maybe she knew that to stand with him, she needed to be her own individual. Not a shadow of her beloved Mukuro-sama.
That day had to come, sooner or later. They both knew that.
She could hear feet shuffling and figures shifting tiredly in the middle of the night, could hear his all too familiar voice hush them, usher them out the door. Luggage and clothes rubbed uncomfortably; an occasional curse was thrown in here and there. She didn't miss his footsteps echoing louder and louder in her ears until it too stopped and faded away. The door clicked open.
She willed herself not to cry. Not now, not ever. Crying was what Nagi would do. Not Chrome Dokuro. Never Chrome.
His lips pressed on her own faintly. She didn't crack her eyes open but kissed him back with all she had, like there was no tomorrow; because there was no tomorrow, only today. Maybe he had realized, maybe he hadn't. She responded with everything she was worth.
Chrome refused to cry. Not now, not today.
She would make him proud. She would grow up to match him, and that fact wouldn't change. Not now, not today.
His sigh breezed against her lips. The door shut. Chrome sighed. Nagi sobbed.
Only then did she allow herself to break down.
In the slowly decaying world, I'm struggling but it's the only way
Carving your faded smiles, I pulled out the plug
ii. tsuna.
Tsuna was different. Where Mukuro was playful and sensual, her boss was candid and honest, clumsy and adorable. He was all inexperienced, but that could just be because of his manners – always so true. Honest, so honest it hurt. He lived with every right, every moral, carry every weight and responsibilities.
Tsuna was gentle; genuine, earnest caresses stroking her skin and worried questions regarding her health, her wounds, every time she came back from a mission. He trusted her, easily and instinctively. Almost like breathing. He didn't, didn't ever lie. Never, never, never.
Very trust-worthy.
It felt safe, to be with him. Tsuna was silk against her heartbeat, warmth on her glassy skin – but never, never flame. It wasn't ember, wasn't fire. It didn't burn when she touched him cold, and the only thing that would flare up right afterward were his cheeks, lips steaming out a string of stutters, incomprehensible words gazing her tender ears.
He was her boss – the pillar for her to rely on when necessary, her ground to keep Chrome from falling. The torch she would follow and dedicate her whole life to.
He shuddered with blush – redness coating his skin so easily, much like her own complexion; and smile an honest, graceful smile – lean body constructed and deconstructed, long hands with nimble fingers danced with a tight smile against the sloping column of his neck, hands that were used to lift people up, to protect, to build and not to destroy, clapping together everytime he ignited his flame like a prayer begging for forgiveness.
Blood splashing on his hands, he stood above them all.
And now, a page of her life turned.
Somewhere along the lines, with intricate words and silver threads interwoven together delicately, she fell for him. Nagi sighed dreamily at his gentle words. Chrome's eye sparkled everytime he praised her, pointless little things she did, a mission she barely made it out alive, fussing around and worrying and caring.
He missed a dad and she didn't even have any parental role models in life. Somehow, they fitted. A brush of hands, a stroke of finger on old scars, and she fell harder, harder, harder –
He still blushed with every touch of her lips. She still flushed a pretty shade of pink when he said something with double meaning.
Her boss, who would become a very powerful person someday; Tsuna, the one caring for every of his friends, everyone in his famiglia; she believed with all her heart and bet with everything she had, in her future. Placing it in his hand without a second thought – and knew he would take good care of it, letting no harm or danger falling down.
And if he did crush her hope, her heart; when he finally announced his relationship with Kyoko, it was unintentional. Beside, them becoming a couple was inevitable.
She knew.
So Chrome smiled her happiest smile and hoped the best for both of them.
It's raining heavily in my mind, I'm stunned, I'm standing dead, my vision is blurry
Despite my determination, the pain is still penetrating
iii. hibari.
Chrome has always loved silence, the way the world stilled under her touch and the slightest breeze braided in her short locks, combing in and out, the calm before the storm.
Hibari Kyoya was all of those.
She didn't remember the first time looking straight into his eyes – really looked at him, rather than The Cloud Guardian or Cloud Man or Master's Worst Nemesis; and just Hibari – but she could easily revoke the memory with a flick of dainty fingers: Her body, torn and tattered, the smell of blood and iron burst in her nostrils and the empty, missing parts in her body; one of his hand under her head, stroking absentmindedly, such soft action from a person reek of iron and blood himself. Gentler, somehow, which is as strange a concept as it is foreign, especially in regards to him.
(After all, this is Hibari Kyoya — and since when has he ever been gentle?)
"If you die, we will all be in trouble,"
She never sought him out after that incident. He had unfurled and curled back into himself, a guy of few words and violence. Never a glance at her direction again.
It was too good to be real.
Chrome smiled and induced. It could be a scenery her brain cooked up in death's hands; but funny how it affected her. His fingerprints all over her mind, she blushed at the notion.
On a day she gathered enough courage to ask him, he glared at her like there was nothing to explain – and maybe there wasn't, in his view, but not everyone looks at life the way Hibari does – and strutted away; his eyes full of storms and mismatched colors and a distinct laughter that wasn't hers.
Their next meeting ended up with Chrome pinned up the wall and cold metal under her throat, hovering just above the pumping veins, a threat and a promise all at once; his lips chapped and colder than steel on her veins. He brushed his hand and the temporality of their situation was clear; until he crashed into her the next time, explanation empty and void.
And the next. And the next. And the next. Until they both lost count.
Always, always, always.
His dilemma was simple: Chrome Dokuro was one weak herbivore, like the rest of the population. And she wanted to live. She was desperate to be strong. To be herself. An identity only defined by a name. She wanted it like an animal in the trap wanted freedom – desperate enough to tear limbs apart, desperate enough for blood and flesh and violence revoked in a dark corner.
But then, you wouldn't be able to stand.
She fancied someone to carry her, strong skillful hands and fire in their bones, and in a way, Chrome is predictably easy to read. Her master, the other herbivore, and then there was him. Anyone. Anyone at all. Such hypocrisy.
But he had made a deal with the devil. His arms were already made into tonfas, he mused. He couldn't really carry anyone now.
Hibari saw her clearly, with pure clarity ringing in his silver eyes. Chrome looked at the world through kaleidoscopic eye – eye that was constantly changing with love and amity. She wanted strength. She thought the violence and peace dynamic could be erased. A thousand years in history had proved her wrong. The Vongola – its very own existence – had proved her wrong.
In the end, Chrome was free falling, a shooting star so beautifully dead, wishing for something even she didn't know; free falling to a tragic end. The master she employed those strength to may not even wish for her welfare. Such beautiful marionette, with silver threads tightened around her hand and paper ring hung on her lithe finger; dance for me, dance for my pleasure, on her way down to the six hells without a glance back, ready to drink the poison without second thought for if that was her master's order. She would be thrown away, soon. Saccharine and illusory love dripped down his fingers, boiling like poison against his skin. He couldn't catch her, even if he wanted to.
(He knew because he had wanted to.)
Her rose-tinted lens shattered with his cold self. She smiled bitterly but bowed her head and whispered gently, shaking with tears of unrequited love. Cold lips brushed against equally cold skin, dead rose petals trying to string themselves back together.
"Thank you, Hibari-san."
(She had never, never called him by his first name.)
(That's because you are her idea. You are her love without love. That's because she loves the idea of you: power and wind and water washing bleaching erasing; and you are, and you will destroy her, kaleidoscope girl. You are a color in her sphere, a stop in her long winding road, and that above all tears into you tonfas-hand and the muscle in your left breast and hurts.)
(He would love her if he could.)
Nothing is left at the end of the unchained me
The bond between us has come apart and is dying away in everyday
iv. chrome.
She stood on the shoreline, eye averting up the blue sky; and listened to the sound of foam dissolving into whiteness. There were tears in her eye and a smile long forgotten to plaster up on her lips. White summer dress and indigo hair tangled, swirling around her body; mist swallowing her whole. Rose thorns pricked at her skin, a crimson droplet rolled down.
Her eye gazed at red blood until it completely disappeared in blue sea, waves washing salt against her skin.
Finally, it wasn't Mukuro, Tsuna or Hibari anymore.
Just Chrome.
And she knew she wouldn't miss their touch again.
"Arrivederci, amore mio."
Goodbye, my sweetheart, it's over
We have to leave without turning back
It's all over
She lost him, but she found herself. And somehow, that was everything.
Footnote: There are... different opinion about the phrase "Goodbye, my love," actually. Some say "arrivederci" is not appropriate, because it's too formal to go with "my love". I'm aiming for the symbolic meaning, so maybe this suits more. I think... Correct me if I'm wrong? :3