Disclaimer; I don't own KHR or any of its characters.
Into the Mist
It was quiet in Kokuyo Land. There was none of M.M.'s shrill whines. None of Ken's loud cries. None of Fran's snide comments.
For once, everything was rendered into silent bliss.
Verde released a sigh of relief as he worked on his latest invention for the upcoming Arcobaleno battles. Ever since he requested Mukuro and his lackeys to be his representatives, there was never a day of peace. They were always arguing about silly, nonsensical things, fighting over trivialities that were far below his realm of intelligence. He began to miss his self-induced isolation, a beautiful time without such constant headaches.
Still, he knew better. If he wanted victory, he had to endure these trials and useless, idiotic humans for a little while longer. For now, as he took in a deep breath, he was content with this momentary reprieve and relished it for as long as it may last.
Of course, there was one man that could not allow the scientist to work in peace.
"Kufufu, still working so late in the night, Dr. Verde?"
The scientist didn't bother turning around.
"I am far above such primitive needs such as sleep, Mukuro," he answered curtly, concentrating on his work in futile hopes the man would go away.
The illusionist only grinned. "Kufufu, you truly are a mad scientist are you?"
Verde did not grace him with a response. If he ever had to hear 'kufufu' ever again, he swore he would go insane.
Mukuro waltzed closer, tentatively kicking the strange contraption.
"Are you even sure this thing will work? The idea of inventing a machine that made illusions real seems more like the ravings of a mad scientist."
He took a quick step back when a screwdriver went flying towards his head.
"Stay away from my machine!" Verde scolded him. He scoffed and adjusted his glasses. "And I assure you that this will work in time for its first test run during the battles."
Mukuro bowed his head in consent, his eyes and lips gleaming with contempt, mocking him as per usual.
Verde grumbled, "It is incredible that a naturally charismatic man could become such a twisted individual. Tragic really."
"Kufufu, would you like to hazard a guess how I turned out this way?"
Verde snapped his head towards the young illusionist, his usual sardonic grin on his lips. "I'm sure a man of your intelligence has hypothesized different theories how I became this 'charistmatic, yet tragically twisted individual', as you call me."
The challenge was placed directly before him, baiting him. Verde scoffed and said, "I have no time for silly games, Mukuro. I will do no such thing."
"But if you guess correctly, I will leave you alone for the rest of the night."
He froze in his place, hand wavering over the machine's bolt. Now that was something he could not just pass up. Verde turned around to face him, arms crossed and a smile on his face. Challenge accepted.
"Fine. If this is what it will take for me to be rid of you," he replied, appraising the illusionist.
"Here is my educated guess about your tragic life – you were born into slavery with only your sickly father and new wife. He attempted to hide your skills in illusions to keep you safe from anyone who may want to use you. Your stepmother was jealous of your father's attention to you, receiving the love that she never felt. Once your father died and she discovered your skills, your mother sold to be experimented by the Estraneo mafia, in part for money and vindictive jealousy. There you experienced the worst torture imaginable… then I think the rest speaks for itself. Everyone knows what happens next."
Everything fell into silence. All Mukuro could do was stare, his face falling uncharacteristically serious. Verde sat back on the floor and exhaled in triumph, brimming with satisfaction over his examination.
"Well? How was that? Or perhaps I should elaborate even more?"
The illusionist did not respond. Pensive, heterochromatic eyes were locked onto a pair of confident green.
He coughed into his hand. His shoulders shook. Verde's brow rose at such a reaction. Did he strike that far home that it rendered the great Mukuro to tears? He almost wished he had something to record this momentous event.
Of course, the scientist should know better than to think something so ridiculous. Mukuro could not contain himself any longer and burst out into laughter.
"Thank goodness you're not a psychologist, Professor Verde. I hope you make better machines than you can diagnoses," Mukuro said in the midst of his chuckles. He settled over him with a wide smile. "Would you like to try again?"
Verde glared and grumpily returned to his work, cursing the illusionist and wondering how his great analysis was incorrect.
The scientist did miss the whimsy in the illusionist's eyes, the nostalgia waving over him as he stared out into the machine's clean steel, eyes of red and blue staring at him – those eyes that cursed him into this life of darkness and tragedy.
Mukuro exhaled sharply, his smile turning bitter. Verde could not be more wrong about his life.
'After all, I never knew my real father. All I had was my mother.'
A/N Notes: This is meant to be a drabble series analyzing Mukuro and how he became the way he is. This should be fun.
Thanks for reading~