The blank-faced Mist who had examined him before didn't say anything once she was sure Chrome was awake. She just left him on the bed and strode out of the cell, taking the duvet and pillows with her. Chrome sat on the hard mattress and shivered, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around himself. He wondered how they were going to punish him for this. He couldn't control whether or not he saw Mukuro-sama when he slept, and even if he could, he wouldn't. Even if they decided to keep him in one of the terrifying water tanks, he wouldn't give up Mukuro-sama for anything. So he sat, and shivered, and waited, not daring to move from where the woman had sat him as he waited for his judgement.
He had no idea how long it was before one of the Vindice came in. Long enough for the cold to seep into his bones.
"You were told to have no mental contact with the criminal Rokudo Mukuro," the Vindice said emotionlessly. "Our examiner believes that you have no control over the connection formed during sleep. This should have been disclosed during the examination, when you were informed of the requirements of our investigation."
Chrome stayed silent, watching through the curtain of his lank blue hair.
"You are no longer permitted to sleep. You will be monitored to ensure that you do not disobey. If it becomes necessary, chemical stimulants will be provided. Physical activity will be limited to preserve your energy, and mental stimulation will be encouraged. If there is any game or diversion you desire, inform one of the guards. A companion will be provided to encourage mental activity and alertness."
With that, the bandaged man glided out of the cell as silently as he had entered. Chrome slowly unfolded himself from his curled up position, wincing as his stiff limbs protested the movement. Not allowed to sleep? He was fairly sure that sleep deprivation was a form of torture. Being separated from Mukuro-sama was a torture all of its own, and he wasn't sure how long he could endure the two combined. The illusion that created his organs was still holding steady, seeming unaffected by the lack of mental contact with Mukuro-sama. When he had created them, Mukuro-sama had told him that they would only falter when Mukuro himself was injured, exhausted or otherwise unable to power them. Now, they were his only way of knowing that Mukuro-sama was alright. As long as they held, they were both alive. They would live or die together.
It was an hour later that a guard arrived, bringing with him a girl with bright red hair. Chrome recognised her in the same way that he had Chikusa and Ken; Mukuro had shown him all of his companions. This girl was M.M., who was obsessed with money and used a clarinet as a weapon. Mukuro-sama had admired her ingenuity and perseverance. Since women were imprisoned separately from men, he had been unable to take her with them when they escaped. Chrome was glad that she was well, and felt slightly guilty that it hadn't even occurred to him to ask after her.
"So, I just have to babysit her, right?" M.M. demanded of the guard as she entered Chrome's cell.
"That is correct. Should you require anything not currently supplied, or if you wish to take part in an activity outside of this room, please inform a guard." With that, the bandaged man left, and the two teens stared awkwardly at each other.
"So, what do you like doing? I'm M.M., by the way," his visitor said, sitting down gingerly on the metal chair next to the equally utilitarian desk.
"Chrome. Pleased to meet you. I enjoy training, but I'm not allowed to use my illusions right now. I mostly talk to Mukuro-sama when I'm bored, but…" Chrome trailed off, feeling another sharp pang of grief at the silence in the back of his head.
"Is there anything you do for fun?" M.M. asked, staring around at the dull cell. There were a few books stacked in one corner, and a completed jigsaw puzzle, but that was it for entertainment.
"I practice, so I'm strong enough to help Mukuro-sama. I go shopping. Mukuro-sama likes seeing what clothes are available, he knows far more about fashion that I do. If Mukuro-sama asks, I-"
"Do you have any interests that don't revolve around Mukuro?" M.M. cut him off exasperatedly.
Chrome had to think hard. Since he had first dreamt of Mukuro-sama, his entire life had been built around the older boy. There were subjects he had enjoyed at Hogwarts, but those had been because of how useful they would be to Mukuro. His favourite hobby was practicing his illusions to impress Mukuro-sama, and the highlight of his day was talking to him. What did he have that wasn't used to please, impress or be useful to Mukuro?
"In Namimori, I enjoyed spending time with Kyoko and Haru," Chrome said slowly. "We tried different cakes together. Mukuro-sama isn't fond of sweets." He wondered how the girls were doing. Did they miss him? He missed them; their complete acceptance and warm, unconditional friendship was something that he had never experienced before.
"Friends and cake." M.M. didn't sound impressed. "It's better than nothing, I suppose. Anything else?"
"Mukuro-sama is fond of children, and I'm not," Chrome offered.
"Really?" M.M. sounded surprised. "I suppose Mukuro did leave the boy alone. I thought that was because of you."
"I wouldn't have liked him hurting a child," Chrome said indignantly. Just because he thought most children were loud, irritating, messy vulnerabilities – even well-behaved ones like Fuuta – didn't mean that he would approve of one being tortured.
"Did he tell you about me?" Chrome asked after an awkward pause. Mukuro-sama had told him a lot of stories about his companions, but it had never occurred to him to ask whether Mukuro was telling them any stories in return.
"He told us that he had someone in England who was important to him. He wanted to cleanse the world and make it safe and new for him. He never really gave us any details, though. I don't think even Ken and Chikusa knew your name. If you hadn't been a boy, I might have thought you were a threat."
"A threat?" He had worked hard to make sure that he wasn't Mukuro-sama's weak point. Even now, Mukuro's freedom was down to him.
"A threat for his affections." M.M. rolled her eyes at him.
Chrome frowned in confusion before he realised what the pink-haired girl meant.
"What? No!" He yelped. M.M. laughed at him, and he threw a paperback book at her, blushing furiously.
His brief and humiliating crush notwithstanding, he had never considered Mukuro-sama in a romantic light. He was an older brother and a mentor, but the thought of being intimate with him – physically, they had mentally been as intimate as it was possible for two people to be – turned his stomach. It felt incestuous.
"So, do you know what Mukuro's doing now?" M.M. asked, taking pity on the furiously blushing Chrome.
"I don't know what day it is," Chrome said, "but he'll either be tormenting Tsuna and Reborn, or watching the Battles. I don't know if they've started yet."
"Tormenting Reborn?" M.M. asked. "Tormenting Sawada is part of his training, but how could he torment the baby?"
Chrome grinned. "The deal we came to with the Vindice says that Mukuro gets to train Tsuna in any way he likes, as long it doesn't break any laws."
M.M. shot him a sceptical look.
"Our laws," he clarified. "Reborn hates that he training is being interfered with, but he can't stop Mukuro-sama. That would be violating the deal between the Vindice and Mukuro-sama, and no one in their right mind would antagonise the Vindice."
"Of course not," M.M. drawled sarcastically. "Who in their right mind would demand to visit, bargain with them, strike a deal to release a notorious prisoner and then violate their orders to communicate with him?"
"It was for Mukuro-sama. Besides, I never claimed to be in my right mind." Chrome was well aware that most people would consider him at the very least slightly unstable. "Anyway, that means that Reborn can't interfere. And 'training' can cover a lot of things."
"Do tell," M.M. said, leaning forward. She hadn't been a part of Mukuro's gang because she loved peace and goodwill, after all.
"Sawada Nana is married to Sawada Iemitsu, which means that she can be told about the Mafia without violating Omerta. If Mukuro-sama thinks it would be beneficial to Tsuna's training if his mother was in the know, he had the right to tell her. Reborn can't do anything about it, and neither can Iemitsu."
M.M. sat back in her chair. "You know, that smile is kind of creepy."
Chrome hadn't realised that he was grinning at the thought of Iemitsu's pain.
"Sorry," he said, schooling his face into a more socially acceptable expression.
"No problem," M.M. said. "So, since I'm here to keep you entertained and awake, what do you want to do?"
Until then, Chrome had managed to ignore the nagging tiredness. At the reminder that he wasn't allowed to sleep, his eyes started itching and he became aware of the dull headache pounding in his skull. The short sleep he had been allowed hadn't really refreshed him, and exhaustion was already pushing at him. He remember M.M.'s exasperation at his lack of interests outside of Mukuro, and decided to try and cultivate the one he had. He might as well put the lessons about cooking Aunt Petunia had beaten into him to good use.
"We could see if this place had a kitchen," he suggested, pushing himself to his feet. "I get the feeling that I'm going to need a lot of sugar to get through this."
"The lights!" Tsuna screamed, praying the Ryohei would hear him. "Take out the lights!"
Ryohei heard him, but he didn't understand. "Don't worry, Sawada! With these glasses I can see extremely well!"
"They're too hot!" Tsuna tried to make him understand. "They're dehydrating you! They're making you sweat!"
"How can light make you sweat? I extremely don't understand!" Ryohei bellowed, barely dodging another blow from his opponent.
"Leave it, Tsuna," Reborn told him quietly. "He won't understand, and he can't afford to be distracted."
Reborn was right. Ryohei was barely keeping up with his opponent, taking glancing blows that were enough to make him grunt with pain. Lussuria was laughing, high-pitched and mocking, every time Ryohei stumbled, taunting him every time he climbed back to his feet. Every second the match continued, Ryohei grew more dehydrated, his reactions slowed, his punches grew weaker and his blocks more sloppy.
"At least Lussuria is heating up as well," Yamamoto offered. "It's a fair game."
"No thanks to them," Gokudera grumbled, hands in his pockets and eyes fixed on the ring. Tsuna was willing to bet that he was clutching his dynamite.
Gokudera had a point. The Varia had been perfectly fine with having an unfair advantage, letting Ryohei be blinded by the lights while Lussuria was protected by his sunglasses, and only Mukuro's unexpected gift had put them back on a level playing field. How much worse would Ryohei be suffering if he couldn't even see his opponent? Not that he could see him well at the moment, with how fast the man was moving. His skills seemed inhuman. Even with his Dying Will, Tsuna didn't think he would be able to match that speed, and Xanxus was sure to be even better. Almost all of his buoyant optimism from the morning had drained away, leaving fear and a dull sense of hopelessness.
A hopelessness that Mukuro intensified tenfold. "He's playing with him now."
"What?" Tsuna stared at Mukuro in horror.
"Lussuria is just playing. He could end this battle at any time. He's drawing it out for his own pleasure now, indulging his sadism." Mukuro sounded vaguely disapproving.
"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Gokudera spat spitefully.
"Gokudera-kun," Tsuna said reproachfully. He knew that Gokudera was just worried about Ryohei, who had just taken a punch straight to the chest, and been sent flying backwards into the bars of the age, but that was no excuse to talk to Mukuro like that. They had all come to an unspoken agreement not to bring up the past, and Mukuro had made a surprising amount of effort not to antagonise anyone.
"I'm sorry, Jyuudaime!" Gokudera wailed, throwing himself into a deep bow.
Mukuro chuckled as Tsuna flailed awkwardly, still unsure about how to deal with Gokudera's unwanted deference.
"There is a time and place for indulging yourself. Sasagawa is a child, and as innocent as anyone I have ever met. There is no call for this. There is no vengeance to be fulfilled, no message to be sent, no purpose served here. I might have hoped that the elite of the Mafia were above such displays of wanton violence. Their reputation must be overstated, if they rely on such displays against outmatched opponents to intimidate."
Although Mukuro was talking to Tsuna, disgust clear in his tone and the sneer on his face, his voice carried clearly over the field.
"I am not extremely outmatched!" Ryohei gasped, spitting out a mouthful of blood as he tried to push himself to his feet.
Tsuna trembled, his hands clenched into fists. Ryohei was bruised and bloody, one arm bent at an impossible angle and held against his body. He wanted to stop the match, to end these pointless battles altogether, but it was too late. Ryohei would never forgive him, and neither would Mukuro. He would never forgive himself. So all he could do was watch with despair and helpless rage as Lussuria laughed, kicking Ryohei over just as he managed to make it to his knees, planting a foot on his chest.
"Oh yes you are. Hate to break it to you sweetie, but I could take that ring from around your neck right here and now." He leered as he stroked Ryohei's chest, dragging his hand up to catch the chain holding the ring and cup Ryohei's chin.
"Then do it and stop wasting time!" the blond who had attacked them before – Squalo – bellowed.
Tsuna hadn't expected help to come from that corner, but he was suddenly ridiculously grateful to Squalo as Lussuria slowly drew the chain over Ryohei's head and locked the two ring halves together. Tsuna didn't even wait for the Cervello to announce the result as he dashed down to the ring, his friends following behind. Ryohei's eyes were barely tracking as Dino's men loaded him onto a stretcher, but he was still conscious, still alive.
Tsuna stood in the ring, Reborn on his shoulder. He couldn't bear to look at Gokudera and Yamamoto, couldn't stand it if he saw fear or judgement in their eyes. After all, it was his fault that Ryohei was hurt, his fault that they were all risking their lives. He couldn't face them, but he didn't think he had the right to leave. So he stood awkwardly, studying the smears of Ryohei's blood that painted an awful picture of the match that had taken place, until something shoved hard against his back.
He stumbled into Gokudera, who wrapped his arms around him automatically.
"You're trembling, Jyuudaime," Gokudera said as he held him close. Despite himself, Tsuna relaxed into the warmth and security the hug promised.
"It's all my fault," Tsuna mumbled, face pressed uncomfortably into his friend's chest. "Onii-san is hurt because of me."
He felt arms wrap around his back.
"Is this is a team huddle?" Yamamoto asked brightly, pressing himself against both Tsuna and Gokudera, hugging them tightly.
Tsuna could only laugh as Gokudera squirmed, trying to keep hold of Tsuna and remove Yamamato, who seemed determined to hold on. By the time they broke apart, he was feeling better. His friends were still with him, and he felt like he might actually stand a chance.
I was going to put the Lightning Battle in here, but I didn't want to make you wait any longer. I know this isn't really up to standard, but I wanted to get something out.
