Zaibatsu
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Chapter Three
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As each of Vongola Zaibatsu's Vice-Presidents came home to the mansion, the sound of Hibari and Mukuro's fight and the shaking of the mansion's foundation prompted them to steer clear. The last time a physical brawl had drawn everyone in with it destructive magnetism, the sheer damage caused by Tsuna's fury left all six of them out of commission for a full month. Tsuna was forced to exercise his power of authority and with help from Reborn and cooperation from the Varia, he had efficiently taken control of every aspect of the zaibatsu.
It showed them that Tsuna was more than capable of running the zaibatsu of his own accord—that he was not hiding behind a name and the work of others to advance in the world. But it also proved the painful truth that they were all replaceable, and that they had all failed in the one thing they had promised to do: help lift the massive weight of responsibility from Tsuna's shoulders.
The bitter aftertaste of uselessness and guilt that gnawed on their palates had stagnated, effectively stopping the number of fights that occurred afterwards. Except for the two rabid beasts that were impossible to tame.
Mukuro's room looked like the aftermath of a veritable warzone. The normally sparse, dark room was bathed in the crimson light of the setting sun as it streamed through the rather sizeable holes in the walls.
The clash of weapons and the flash of steel faded as night started to fall. The two exhausted, equally battered men glared at each other across the tattered ruins of what was formerly Mukuro's furniture. Blood that painted their bodies also similarly covered the floor and walls as if they were extensions of the two men, evidence to an all-encompassing ire at being denied. Yet despite the violence that had erupted, the sun set to a calmness more attuned to peace. But it was an angry silence that neither side wanted to break, lest more wounds be added to their already strained bodies.
Theirs was a never-ending battle, fueled by rage and a burning passion only one side would dare form into words.
"You are also in love with him," softly hissed Mukuro as he pointed his trident towards Hibari. "And yet you say nothing…" It wasn't a question, more of an accusation as the unspoken implication hung in the air.
Coward.
Hibari's glare grew freezing as he struggled to get back on his feet. "Don't even attempt to reason with things you don't understand."
"No," growled Mukuro. "Your problem is that I understand too well."
"Go to hell."
"Hell… as you said, 'don't even attempt to reason with things you don't understand'," Mukuro smirked as he got on his feet and limped for the door. "It's not a nice place. But I'll be damned seven times over if you think that I would surrender Tsunayoshi-kun to a half-wit who doesn't know what he wants. But don't feel special quite yet. There are more idiots like you who are too blind to realize what's before your very eyes.
"And before you know it, it will be too late."
With that, the long-haired man left the ruined room, supported by his trident. Hibari Kyoya leaned against the wall as his tonfas dangled uselessly in his hands. "Dammit," he cursed softly.
He knew Mukuro told the truth, but the words surprisingly stabbed nonetheless. But he was a man who would rather bite his tongue and die than to mutter words against his character. He is a man who would follow his fists rather than to spare a moment to listen to his desires. For the first time, the indestructible man felt the cold wave of fear flow through his veins and arrest his heart.
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Byakuran sat outside of Tsuna's bedroom door after being physically thrown out by the smaller—yet surprisingly strong—younger man. But despite his hurt tone, the foxy grin was affixed permanently on his face. The young Vongola was extremely easy to tease—his favorite kind of person. "Tsu-kun. I'm hurt! Why did you toss me out?"
The harassed tone of voice that answered him carried clearly through the door. "Because I'm changing clothes."
"I could have spoken to you while you were still in your pajamas. Aren't we friends? And it's not like you have something I've never seen before. Look, I have one too! I'll show you!"
"No!" Tsuna didn't bother to suppress his sigh of exasperation at Byakuran's antics. He was familiar with how Byakuran liked to bait him like a cat pouncing on a cornered mouse. "And have you forgotten how you tried to infiltrate this company before, Byakuran?"
The amused expression on Byakuran's face faded and turned shrewdly calculating. Yes, Tsuna was his favorite type of prey. "But that was in the past, Tsuna. When the Ninth was President, he was too weak to control the ambitions of those who wanted power. It's different now with you in charge."
Tsuna ignored the insult towards the Ninth and the slight hidden jab describing the Varia as power-hungry and opened the door. They weren't hungry for power. They simply wanted to be able to access their full potential and be acknowledged for the work they did—rather than to simply act as puppets on display. The Ninth had sought to protect them like children, inhibiting their growth whilst all they want to do was step out in the fields on their own. With that empathy and the promise not to stifle their growth, Tsuna gained the loyalty of Xanxus and his Varia.
He stared down at the white-haired man and forced his tight smile to look more natural. "I wasn't alone in that endeavor, Byakuran."
"I am well aware of that face, Tsu-kun," replied Byakuran before standing up and following Tsuna to the office. "The mutual respect between you and your Vice-Presidents is famous in social circles."
There was something in Byakuran's tone of voice that implied to Tsuna that there was information being left out, but in the midst of business endeavors, the fewer enemies one had, the better. Byakuran had been an enemy before and the two sides suffered many casualties—something Tsuna would do almost anything to prevent from happening again. And as the Tenth, he now can.
Once Tsuna had taken his place on his seat, his countenance shifted into that of the Tenth President of Vongola Zaibatsu—fierce, fearless, and just. "Now about this merger, Byakuran. Why is Millefiore willing to become absorbed into Vongola Zaibatsu without so much as a single stipulation on your part? A few of my advisors are not too keen on this due to our past history."
Tsuna knew that Byakuran is not a man who would take business dealings lightly. The had to be a reason why he was doing what he was—whether the purpose was advantageous or detrimental to Vongola. But as Byakura walked towards the window, Tsuna wondered if he even heard what he said.
"Byakuran… why are you doing this? This isn't like you."
Byakuran was silent as he stared out into the darkening sky and touched the leaves of ivy growing up the walls. "Do you know what ivy means in flower language, Tsu-kun?"
Tsuna was not expecting the sudden change in subject, but he knew that there was a method to Byakuran's ramblings. He and Mukuro were similar in that sense. "No."
"Ivy means fidelity, loyalty to a cause. When the vines of ivy climb up a weak wall, the tiny vines can penetrate the loose foundation and cause more damage. But a strong wall is impenetrable to the climbing vines of the ivy. It will not be damaged and instead will be protected by the ivy from weathering."
Just like Millefiore's potential future with Vongola, thought Tsuna. They are afraid of something. The question is… what could Millefiore Company, which has struck fear into the hearts of even larger companies, possibly be afraid of?
"Tell me, Tsu-kun. Have you ever heard of the Estraneo Family?"
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Mukuro hobbled painfully to the office of Vongola's resident physician and human parasite, Doctor Shamal. This time, his wounds needed more than a good night's sleep to fix. "Shamal, open the door before I break it down."
To his surprise, the one who opened the door was Gokudera. The silver-haired man was clutching his stomach and his green-tinged face had seen better days… or better people to be correct. "Mukuro."
Not for the first time, Mukuro wondered if Bianchi could possibly be Vongola Zaibatsu's trump card in taking out their enemies without firing a single bullet. As terrifying as the woman was, she was thorough.
"Gokudera." Although the two were not close friends, they held a mutual regard for the other's wit and decency in knowing when to turn a blind eye and mind their own business. Mukuro would refrain from telling Bianchi where to find her brother and Gokudera would not ask questions about the heterochromatic man's injuries. Gokudera could do without Mukuro's perverted claims on Tsuna and Mukuro despised Gokudera's self-appointed "watchdog" tendencies, but at least they refrained from clawing at each other's jugulars every time they meet. "It's moments like these when I count my blessings to have such a wonderful sister."
Gokudera grimaced as he moved out of the way to let Mukuro inside. "If you would ever like to trade, I would even pay you to take her off my hands. I would rather get shot in the leg than to look at Aneki's face more than I have to."
The strength backing the gruesome choice amused Mukuro as he limped inside. "Kufufu… what brought you to this conclusion?"
"It's either damage to my leg or damage to my pride," sniffed Gokudera as he clambered slowly back on the bed. "My leg is only a flesh wound—I can still fight with a bullet lodged in me somewhere. But the damage to my pride is damage to me as a man—dead is preferable."
Before Mukuro could reply, a rather tattered and bruised Doctor Shamal walked through the door, sighing in disappointment. "Again. Two disgusting males in front of me. How many times do I have to tell you that I don't treat men?" He then noticed that the other male was Mukuro and with the realization, his face contorted into a half-hearted snarl. "Especially not those who made me lose a small fortune to that damned gun-toting brat."
"Then you're an idiot for betting against Reborn-san in the first place, Shamal," clucked Gokudera, managing to taunt the doctor even through his stomach pains. "So how much did you lose? What was the bet about?" Some aspects of Gokudera just never grow up. Like his immaturity.
"Would you like a pair of black eyes to go with that smart mouth?" Doctor Shamal winced as his movements aggravated the injuries Bianchi had kindly given him. But even the pain was worth it when he poked Gokudera just below the ribs, eliciting a satisfying yelp of agony from the younger man. The silver-haired moron deserved it after all, after failing to beat the heterochromatic psycho to Tsuna. That was Shamal would put money on his own student. "None of your business, brat. And what are you here for, pineapple brat? Long hair isn't enough to make you look like a woman," said Shamal, pointing to Mukuro. "Save your sex appeal for under-aged brats."
"Kufufufu… nothing in particular," smiled Mukuro while his eyes promised a violent death if denied. "I am quite content to stand here and bleed on your floor."
Shamal shrugged, pulled out a cigarette from a box and lit it, uncaring that he was in the infirmary. "Suit yourself… you aren't diseased, are you?"
"Saa…" softly hissed Mukuro as the atmosphere around him grew heavy. "When the skin on your face starts to flake and peel, exposing the decomposing muscle below and the veins of your body rise to the surface, turning black as poisoned blood rush through like a torrent, you would beg to tear your own eyes out as they shrivel and die to placate the demons that have possessed your mortal body. You won't feel, you won't see, you won't taste anything but the evil torture seizing your soul. When the time comes, I will watch you writhe in torment as the flames consume you from within."
The cigarette fell from Shamal's mouth and even Gokudera shrank back into the bed before the savage look in Mukuro's eyes grew powerful and piercing enough to strip their target's skin off. Mukuro was scarier than Hibari, for while Hibari would swiftly guillotine his opponents to death, Mukuro would stall the blade, smile and watch as it fell centimeter by centimeter.
As much as Shamal pissed him off, the man was still necessary to Gokudera's plans—mainly the future removal of Bianchi. For the only one who frightened Gokudera more than Mukuro was his sister. And for that, he needed Shamal as alive and as intact as possible. "Sh-Shamal… he's wounded."
But after gaining his composure, Shamal proved to be either too brave or too stupid to notice the danger to his life. "And I said I don't treat men!"
"Liar! You take care of Juudaime every time he's hurt!"
"He signs my paychecks," replied Shamal as he picked up his dropped cigarette, shrugged off his tattered white coat and took a long, slow drag. "And he is feminine-looking enough for it to not matter."
"Keep your paws off Juudaime!" warned Gokudera as he snatched some sticks of dynamite that he had smuggled in. Forget about Shamal's well-being, after that little quip, Mukuro could inflict whatever evils he wanted on Shamal. The only thing greater than Gokudera' instinct of self-preservation was his loyalty to Tsuna.
The doctor balked at the very idea, but as he turned around to retort and smack his former pupil on the head a few times, an iron grip caught his throat and slammed him back against the wall. Mukuro's piercing gaze burned with anger as he moved his trident's points to a very sensitive location. The aura of anger didn't dissipate even after he closed his heterochromatic eyes with a smile. "Oya oya… Trident Shamal… how appropriate."
Shamal, who had never been intimidated by anything in his life, was sweating bullets as the beaten man showed just how much strength and power he still had.
"Doctor?" said Mukuro amicably. "May I present you with a suggestion and a little warning?"
"Y-yes?" The points of the trident were coming uncomfortably close to the danger zone.
"You don't have to tend to my injuries as long as you direct me to where the gauze and antiseptic are kept," reassured Mukuro. But his eyes hardened into crystallized gems with his warning. "But if you ever even think of laying a finger on Tsunayoshi-kun, your life will be over."
Shamal quickly pointed to a cabinet as he shrank back against the wall, horrified at being intimidated by a younger brat.
It was crystal-clear to Gokudera that Hibari finally hit Mukuro's head hard enough to break him. As sadistic as Mukuro was, he wasn't the type to threaten people—no, he would play with their minds and then shatter them without any warning. "Oi, we aren't allowed to kill people, Mukuro."
"Oya?" the indigo-haired man smirked as he headed for the first aid cabinet. "Whoever said anything about killing?"
Early morning the next day, a piercing shriek of agony rocked through the building's foundation. Shamal found his computer and multiple hard drives wiped clean and his "special books" and videos missing from the titanium vault he kept them in. All of the female contacts in his phone had also been replaced by the information of national physicians specializing in vasectomies and men's prostate health. Even his "little black book" was left in "little burnt shreds".
It was indeed a fate worse than death, punctuated by the sobs of despair that echoed through the mansion like the piteous howling of a trapped spirit.
Behind the mansion, Mukuro's face was alight with glee as the flames consuming the broken remains of his furniture and the massive stack of porn reflected in his eyes.
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Reborn smoothly glided through the treacherous hallways leading into the IT Department, Leon in one hand and a silver suitcase in the other. Although it was still early in the morning, he knew that Mukuro's four subordinates were already there, causing mischief and earning profits. Although Mukuro's mere presence was usually enough to intimidate even the most hardened intruders and spies, the individuals creating the small family of the Information Technology department were quite active in protecting their privacy.
Along the way, Reborn had already avoided the falling needles, the lasers that set off the flame throwers, and the pass-coded entry way filled with tear gas without much thought. Now, he looked at the obstacle before him and smiled.
"I see that Ken brought some of his friends out to play," whispered Reborn to himself as two large, snarling pit bulls that were foaming profusely at the mouth rushed towards him. Almost lazily, he loaded Leon with tranquilizers strong enough to stun a herd to charging elephants dead on their tracks. Reborn smirked. If he was anything, he was thorough. "But still not enough."
The Arcobaleno fired twice and the two dogs were out before they could even yelp about getting hit. "Have a good rest." He then stepped over the dogs and sauntered into the IT Department office.
Chikusa, Ken, Chrome and Lancia, all gathered around a dry-erase board, looked up to see Reborn leaning against the right side of the door with his left leg propped up against the other side. No one could go in or out and the predatory smile on the Arcobaleno's face prompted each of them to step back slightly out of its range.
"Reborn-san! There's an elevator in Juudaime's office connected to here, you know!" They never failed to wonder why Reborn preferred taking the more treacherous route that gives the IT Department the nickname "Death Trap" than use the private elevator. But then they would have to explain the rather deviant reason why Mukuro didn't use it either.
"Good morning, Reborn-san," greeted Chrome. "You preferred to take the long way today?"
"Ciaossu, Chrome, Ken, Chigusa and Lancia," replied Reborn, amused to see the other finally relaxing in his presence. "Take it easy, I'm here with good news." He pushed off from the door and slid the metal suitcase he was carrying toward Chrome, Ken and Chikusa. "This is your portion. Use it as you will."
"Wh-what on earth is this, byon?" yelped Ken as he lifted the latch of the suitcase. "Wha--!" As it turned out, the suitcase carried more than what its appearance portended, for the two halves swung open and tossed large-denomination yen bills across the table and in the air.
Lancia dropped the cup of coffee that he was holding, but in his shock, he made no move to clean it up. Chikusa readjusted his glasses over the bridge of his nose after it had fallen in his surprise—and he was not taken off-guard easily. "Reborn-san, all of this can't possibly be from…"
"Tsk tsk. You underestimate my resources, Chikusa," Reborn smirked as he slyly drew his fedora down to cover his face. "You were smart to stick with Mukuro for the first round, but will that luck remain if an unexpected dark horse enters into the pool? Contrary to the Zaibatsu's promotions, this is where the money really lies."
"Dark horse? Dino-san?" asked Lancia, flabbergasted at the very idea. He had thought that the relationship between the two Presidents were purely platonic.
"Maa ne," replied Reborn furtively. "Take my words as you will."
Before Ken and Chikusa could inspect if the money was real, Chrome had quietly gathered the loose bills and closed the suitcase. Lancia sputtered as she pushed the case towards Reborn again. "All of this for Mukuro-niisama, Reborn-san… in regards to the whole IT Department this time."
"But—" Lancia made to argue, but Chrome's stoic face stared him into silence. Mukuro was a pain in the ass, but Lancia was rather fond of his sister.
Reborn used the tip of Leon's barrel to draw the suitcase into his possession once again, but his piercing stare was unwaveringly locked with Chrome's. "You have such faith in your brother. Are you telling him something you shouldn't be?"
Chrome smiled and shook her head. "Mukuro-niisama needs no prompting when it comes to going after something he wants."
"If you say so. Guarantee that my choice will always be the winner. It may be someone different this round," replied Reborn smugly before his expression grew serious. "But I'm here for something of a graver nature than this. I need your assistance. All of you. And not a word is to be said to either your Vice-President or the Tenth."
The uncommonly somber tone of Reborn's command made the four straighten up and give him their full attention. If there was anyone they answered to even above Mukuro and Tsuna, it was the Arcobaleno before them. For saving their lives, they owe him their own… for saving Mukuro, they gave him their loyalty.
Reborn nodded, satisfied by their resolve. "I want you to break into Millefiore's information stronghold.
"And destroy it."
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End Chapter Three
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Author's Notes:
- Thank you very much for the reviews and I'm really sorry you guys. I meant to update last Thursday, but the problems with writing things down on paper first is that you sometimes misplace where you put said pad of paper. This chapter was a little more serious than I meant for it to be, but I gotta get the plot rolling too—yes, there is a plot surprisingly enough.
- I noticed a lot of people like jealousy… the kind that twists and warps personalities to the point that they crack and act impulsively—yes, there's more on the way for you. :) And yes, 10027 is another pairing for this (meant more to torture Tsuna than anything).
- And I LOVE writing Mukuro as perverted. There's nothing better.
