Disclaimer: KHR! does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Amano, etc.
Notes: Written for trope bingo on dreamwidth, for my 'au: fantasy' square.
An Unconventional Partnership
Mukuro doesn't bother to hide his disgusted sneer as the guard leads him deeper into the prison. He is an aristocrat, after all. The likes of Mukuro Rokudo do not enter such disease-ridden places lightly, and they do not enjoy it when they suffer to enter.
They come to a halt at the end of a long, damp hallway.
"This the one?" the guard asks, holding his torch near the small, barred opening in the door.
Mukuro leans closer, imagining all the ways that he will murder this man if so much as a hair on his head is singed. The flickering flame reflects off two circles in the corner of the room, like a light shone just so that a cat's eyes are illuminated in the dark.
"Kyou the barbarian?" Mukuro calls lightly.
A wordless snarl greets his words.
Mukuro turns to the guard and smiles. "Yes, I do believe he is the one I want."
The guard shudders and looks away, fumbling with his free hand for the ring of keys at his belt.
Really, Mukuro was simply trying to be civil. It's not his fault that his smile unnerves most people.
"No funny business," the guard snaps at the cell's occupant, when he finally gets the door open. It would be more menacing if there wasn't an undercurrent of fear in his tone, however.
"Has he caused much trouble?" Mukuro asks idly, striding into the small stone room as soon as the door is opened wide enough to permit him passage.
"Tore a chunk out of another guard's cheek. With his teeth!" the guard says, following him inside with a great deal more caution.
"Well, he is a barbarian," Mukuro remarks. "What else were you expecting?" His gaze falls on a dirty, mangy form curled in the corner. Feral brown eyes glare at him past matted bangs, with such ferocity that Mukuro would have expected spitting and cursing to accompany the look.
Oh, they've gagged him. Well, that explains a lot.
"Good evening, Kyou," Mukuro says, kneeling in the filth without hesitation. He's been in worse, for all that he is an aristocrat now. "I'm Mukuro Rokudo. Perhaps you've heard of me." Kyou flinches when Mukuro raises a hand, but he reaches out patiently and pulls the gag away.
"Go to hell," Kyou says coldly, baring yellowed teeth that have certainly seen better days.
"Been there, done that," Mukuro sighs. So unimaginative. Well, he isn't here for Kyou's intellect. "No, I have a much more mundane destination in mind. You can agree to accompany me and I will pay for your freedom... or you can refuse and rot in this lightless cell for the rest of your life."
Kyou glares at him in silence for several long moments, taking in his obviously expensive clothing, the immaculate grooming that he maintains.
The guard shifts uncomfortably behind them, but Mukuro and Kyou both ignore him.
"Why?" Kyou demands, finally. There is a great deal of distrust in his gaze, which is only to be expected. Mukuro doesn't need his trust, just his strength.
"I'm on the trail of your recent employers," Mukuro explains, switching to a dialect of the Namimori language that has not been spoken, he imagines, in many years. Surprise flashes across Kyou's face when he first speaks, then hatred as Mukuro finishes. "They took something very important from me, and I'm interested in getting it back." In spite of himself, he raises a hand to the right side of his face.
Kyou's gaze tracks his hand. "Your eye," he says, in the same dialect.
Mukuro raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Just so," he agrees, hiding his reluctance to reveal the truth. Kyou should not have been able to see past the illusion Mukuro has placed there, projecting the image of his signature red eye, no matter how weak that illusion might be. But if he has, there's no reason trying to pretend otherwise.
"I'd get to kill them all," Kyou says, in a tone that brooks no discussion.
But he is not the one in charge of this conversation, no matter how abruptly he changes the subject. "Their leader is mine," Mukuro says mildly.
Kyou raises his head, defiance warring with pragmatism in that proud, furious gaze. "... Fine," he grits out, when pragmatism inevitably wins.
Mukuro smiles. "Wonderful!" He rises and spins around, fixes the guard with his best smile. "Well, we had better be off," he says, in the standard tongue. "Things to do, places to see, people to kill! Unchain my man at once, if you please."
The guard blinks, visibly taken aback by the sudden inclusion in the conversation. "O-of course m'lord." He starts forward, fumbling with the keys once more.
Such incompetence. Mukuro glances at the ceiling (improbably, it is as filthy as the rest of this disgusting establishment; but how did the filth accumulate above their heads, that is the question) but it does little to quell his impatience to be out of this wretched place.
He grew up in a place like this, once upon a time, before his eye awakened and turned red and a visiting mage took an interest in him. Spending the majority of his childhood in prison is more than long enough for his tastes.
The guard has undone Kyou's chains when Mukuro looks back at them, so there is that, at least.
Kyou stands with a liquid grace that is at odds with his gaunt appearance, quickly enough that the guard stumbles back with a curse.
"Stay away from me, you fucking barbarian," the guard snaps.
Mukuro deliberately steps into Kyou's line of vision. "Come, now. We need to be off, Kyou," he says lightly, before the forner prisoner can attack the guard.
Kyou's lip curls back from his teeth, not so much a sneer as a snarl. Mukuro can't say he disapproves of the fierce expression. "Of course," Kyou says flatly, and stalks out the door.
"Thank you for your help," Mukuro tells the guard, tossing him a small pouch of coins. He hurries after Kyou before the guard can regain his wits.
"You look like him," Kyou says a few hours later, his tone indifferent at best as he stares out the window of their rented room. Certainly not the grateful tone that Mukuro had been hoping for. Then again, he'd known Kyou's reputation before he even began to consider employing the mercenary. And it was as much for Kyou's sake as Mukuro's own refined sensibilities that he had had the man washed, clothed and fed.
"Pardon?" Mukuro asks, glancing up from his book.
Kyou turns to look at him. "You look like the leader of the Estraneo."
Mukuro goes cold. Julie Katou is the leader of the Estraneo, and they look nothing alike. "Who?" he asks, despite not wanting to know the answer. Despite probably knowing the answer anyway.
"Spade," Kyou says.
Mukuro stares at him, speechless.
"Daemon Spade?" Kyou repeats, frowning now. He looks irritated, and his tone says that he is not pleased with being asked to lay out facts that should be self-evident.
"Daemon Spade is dead," Mukuro manages.
Kyou rolls his eyes. "He's alive. I've seen him with my own two eyes."
"Impossible," Mukuro insists. "I killed him myself."
"Then you did an awful job of it," Kyou says, voice lapsing into indifference again. "He's taken on the appearance of an ordinary-looking man named Katou, but it's an illusion."
"How can you know for sure?" Mukuro demands.
"I can see through any illusion," Kyou says, a calm statement of fact rather than the boast that such an ability ought to warrant.
Mukuro closes his book and drops it on the bedside table. "Truly, Kyouya of the Hibari tribe of Namimori has hidden depths that not even I could have guessed at," he murmurs, slumping against the headboard.
Kyou stiffens, his hands dropping to the newly-acquired tonfa at his belt. "How do you-"
"-oh, don't worry," Mukuro mutters dismissively. "I've no interest in turning you in to the ruling tribes."
"But how," Kyou demands.
"It wasn't that hard to figure it out. I confirmed it today, when you answered me in the northern dialect of Namimori. Not many people speak it anymore."
Kyou clenches his fists, his teeth grinding together audibly. "I don't trust you," he growls, finally, and stalks over to the other bed.
"Whether you trust me or not is no concern of mine," Mukuro informs him. "So long as our interests align, we will work together. Once the Estraneo are destroyed, you may do whatever you wish. Ah, but you are interested in revenge, are you not?"
"Biting the Estraneo to death will be satisfying enough for me to put up with your presence until then," Kyou says coldly.
Mukuro rolls his eyes. Eye. "I've changed my mind. Spade is yours, so long as you preserve his eyes."
"I was going to kill him anyway."
"And now you have to make sure not to damage his eyes," Mukuro says, with false patience.
Kyou scoffs.
"I mean it," Mukuro snaps, preparing to summon his trident out of his pocket dimension if he needs to get the message to the tribesman-turned-mercenary through force.
"I heard you the first time, sorceror," Kyou says indifferently.
Mukuro grits his teeth and picks up his discarded book. The words blur before him, though, distracted as he is by the knowledge that his current enemy is actually a far older menace.
Daemon Spade. The devoted lover of Elena, the kindly mage who'd freed Mukuro from prison and lifted him into a life of privilege and nobility. The sorceror who had taught Mukuro much of his current magic.
The madman who'd snapped after Elena's untimely death.
Mukuro's fingers twitch in remembrance, how he'd tried in vain to save her after they were ambushed by a rival family. His magic was not the sort to heal or fix, though, and Spade ought to have known that - their abilities were rather similar, after all.
But Spade was not in his right mind after that, and he'd challenged Mukuro to a duel. Mukuro had defeated him, or so he'd thought.
He'd also thought that Katou's attempts (there needed to be only one success, unfortunately) to steal his red eye were out of jealousy - while they had both been Spade's apprentices, Mukuro had always been more talented.
Yet Kyou claimed that Daemon Spade was still alive. Mukuro had made sure to destroy his master's eye, after their battle; perhaps Spade needed a replacement.
Why, then, leave Mukuro alive? Without his eye, did Spade no longer consider Mukuro a threat? Or was it merely incompetence on the part of the Estraneo men?
Mukuro doesn't know. But he isn't going to let this opportunity go to waste.