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Four Years Before Varia
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When a note came to him in a dream telling him to kill all the members of a renowned Mafia Family, Fran had been under Mukuro's tutelage for five years.
It was Fran's first ever assassination mission from Mukuro. He thought it meant his Master trusted him enough now and he marked the long-awaited day with a bright red circle (plus exclamation points and a star sticker) on his limited edition The Phantom calendar.
He had always wondered why Mukuro never gave him anything more to do aside from torturing other Families with his tricks. When he asked his Master on the lateness of the trial, he received another stab through his shoulder and the sweet-toned reply that told of him being too weak and in danger of being sent to the Vendicare (which would consequently make him even more useless) had it been any earlier.
Well, the date didn't matter. What was important now was that Fran had already planned the whole kill in his head, and all he had to make sure was that he timed his illusions (inspired by one or two famous apocalypse movies) perfectly with his poses, and that his Villain laugh would be loud and chilling and ready when all was done.
He didn't even have to check the name on the note twice, because not only was the Family a famous name within their world, it was also the last name of those who often visited their house for parties, holidays and special family-only gatherings.
Fran, unfortunately, knew them quite well.
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"Kufufu. You made their death quick and easy," Mukuro said when Fran handed in his mission report. "How cute, Little Fran. Oh! Tell me, did dear ol' Carmela call you that when you appeared right at their doorstep? Did she give you a little kiss on the cheek right before the ground swallowed her and the rest of her family whole?"
He sauntered over to Fran, hand darting out and tightly gripping his apprentice's lower jaw. "Will you be having nightmares after this, then, Little Fran? Dreams of their welcoming, pretty faces, unwittingly inviting you to their living room when in fact you would no sooner send them to Hell? Were you afraid of hearing their screams?" Two cold hands slid over Fran's face, covering unmarked cheeks, tips of Mukuro's cold fingertips pressing at Fran's ears. "Is that why you made it easy? Too easy? Is that why you hesitated, Little Fran? Because of the nightmares that will come?" Mukuro's fingers dug deep on pale white skin.
"With you in it, all my dreams are nightmares, Master," Fran cheekily told him through squished cheeks.
Mukuro released the younger boy with a deep laugh that resonated throughout Fran's dream-illusion. "Useless, useless boy," he cooed with a sickeningly sweet voice that made Fran shiver. "I'll be going out soon~"
"You're escaping from the mental asylum?" Fran asked, but when Mukuro did not respond with anything other than his Not Amused Smile, Fran understood that his jibes won't help him today. "Is that why you asked me to kill the Vivado's? It was a trial, then?"
Mukuro tilted his head. "And the verdict?"
"Guilty." Fran tried hard not to look away, dull green eyes fixed on seething blue-red ones.
"Guilty," Fran repeated as he gripped the hem of his shirt—a nervous habit he thought he had abandoned when his Father ceased giving him punishments every time his performance was not up to par, a nervous habit he thought he outgrew when he learned not to fear, when he learned how to finally, finally put his intelligence to a more appreciable use, when he learned from Mukuro—did he learn anything from Mukuro? He learned how to see through illusions, through lies, at least, but if only Fran could convince himself that the dissatisfaction he was seeing right now wasn't the case, that it was an illusion, a lie. "I failed you."
"How clever of you to deduce that." Mukuro applauded before slowly drifting farther and farther into the shadows. The dissatisfaction, the disappointment could not be any more real. Fran failed. Fran failed. Fran failed. And Mukuro was displeased by his failure. "Well now, I must bid you 'Sayonara', Little One. Do hope that we don't meet each other again."
Or it will be your last, Fran's mind helpfully added to make it sound as dramatic as his Master would have made it if he was in one of his better moods. Fran almost missed the theatrical-ness of his Master, because that meant that Mukuro was in a good mood, that Mukuro was pleased—that Mukuro was pleased with him.
For a split second, Fran tried calling out, to ask pineapple boy 'What happens now? What happens after?' but his voice told him to shut up. Mukuro was also already being enveloped by the dark shadows, disappearing from Fran's dream for what could be the last time. Fran did not pout when he thought of this. He did not throw a tantrum, did not cry, did not feel pain, and he did not anymore feel the tingling sensation in the back of his palm.
The following night and the night after that, true to his Master's (was it former Master's now?) words, Fran didn't see Mukuro in his dreams anymore.
He still had nightmares.