LXXXI.
Plip. Plip. Plip.
Raindrops. A quiet shower, not a thundering downpour. Soft wisps of warm rain trailing down from clouded summer skies, not ice-cold needles racing from chilling winter heavens. Summer rains like this one were rare and came few and far between –it's something she can appreciate, something wholly cleansing and cathartic through the tumultuous haze of grief and numbness weighing down on her mind right now.
Plip.
… They're dead.
Faust. Alfredo. Both of whom were dead. By setting a trap and luring the Millefiore to the Squalo Manor, where they had lain in ambush–
Dead.
… What in the world had her future self been doing? She couldn't imagine sitting back and just letting them die –why hadn't she been there? Apparently, she'd been with the Varia when they went through with this suicidal plan of theirs, but why…?
Why hadn't she been there?
…
Plip. Plip.
She sighed, standing up and padding silently across her room as she tried to clear her mind, reaching up into the closet and–
Clack.
… What was that?
A small rosewood picture frame. Slightly worn at the edges, faded colors–
She drops it on the ground as if burned.
Because.
Because what it shows is impossible.
She would never– He would never– It didn't make sense!
Her eyes stared unseeingly at the two people standing together in the aged photograph, thoughts racing a mile a minute.
(He almost shattered her mind! Even when he'd been training Yuuto, there hadn't been any signs of them remotely even being… So why in the world…?)
It was almost unthinkable; and yet, there it was. Solid proof in front of her eyes.
… Why him?
Why Mukuro?
LXXXII.
"So, Master, will you be coming?"
"Kufufu. Need you even ask, dear apprentice of mine?"
"Boss is going to get mad when he sees your pineapple-head around here again."
"He has no choice in this matter, and I have every right to be present. And watch that impertinent tongue of yours before I tear it out from your mouth."
"… Gulp."
LXXXIII.
The drawers of her desk are empty. Or rather, the drawers of her future self's desk are empty.
No clues here, then.
She gently slides the last drawer back in place, biting her lip. Because it's frustrating –for all that she sees little signs of her living habits here, her future self might as well as have been a ghost living in this room.
Journals? Empty.
Papers? Blank.
… Yes, there were pens on the table and folded-corners blankets on the bed and a box of chamomile on the shelves. But those were virtually the only signs that she had been the one who had once lived in this room. Nothing else to tell her what kind of person she had been in the future, nothing to give her even the slightest hint of what she had been doing. Surely she wouldn't have idly sat by and twiddled her thumbs while the war was going on?
(Surely she wouldn't have done nothing while Alredo and Faust both died?)
Other than the photograph, there was nothing personal of her in this room. And it… disturbed her. More than she'd like to admit to.
Because.
She knows Setsu's living habits. She knows Stella's living habits. And she knows that neither of them lived like a traceless ghost.
If the room had really been sealed directly after her death until now, as Lussuria had told her –that meant that no one would've had the opportunity to remove anything from here. Wich meant that this room was perfectly untouched, that this was the way she had left it –that her future self had left it–
Unless.
… Unless this was her room, except she simply hadn't lived here in a long, long time… perhaps she hadn't been living here at all prior to her death? Maybe she had lived here at some point, but left later on?
But then, why would she leave? What could make her leave? And why?
(… Why would they keep her room the way it was, instead of clearing it out for someone else to use?)
…
… It didn't make sense. Nothing did, not anymore.
LXXXIV.
Xanxus very nearly turns on his heel and walks the other way when he catches sight of her standing there in the corridor, talking to the shark.
(To think that there would be a day when he considered retreat to be an acceptable option–)
She was young, so young. Somehow, his feet were rooted to the ground as he stood there, staring at her, even though it hurt to see her again, even if it was a decade younger than what he remembered seeing. To see the childish form of the woman who had–
"Xanxus?"
Xanxus. Not Lord Xanxus.
Gray eyes.
Gray eyes, not hazel.
They're not the same person. And a part of him relaxed at seeing it, knowing that the little girl standing down the hallway would be that much easier to differentiate from the woman who had once stood in her place. The girl you see in front of you right now is not the Stella you know.
So maybe that thought was what allowed him to stand his ground as she flitted towards him –no other way to describe it, her footsteps as light and silent as the day she had kneeled in his blood and–
Gray, not hazel. She is not your Stella.
Not that knowing it had made it any easier, but damnit he wouldn't–
"I'm sorry."
… What?
Outwardly, his countenance hadn't changed –and yet he had no doubt that she'd caught some sign of the brief shock that he'd felt from those two simple words, the thoughts that had instinctively flashed through his mind the moment he registered those words from her. (See? Not your Stella; the Stella you know would never lower her head and apologize and openly admit to any sort of faults; admit to her weakness, because she is anything but weak since she is strong–)
"My presence here –I don't know what my future self did, but… I can tell. Just by being here, I'm causing you unwarranted grief, aren't I? All of you, really." Her gray eyes flickered downwards for a moment, before locking on his own again. And he couldn't look away. "For that, I'm sorry. Superbi just told me that the Vongola branch in Japan will be sending someone to pick me up soon. Apparently, most of Tsuna's Guardians have been replaced by their younger selves, similar to my own situation. Even the younger Tsuna is here in this era now, so… I… I'll be gone soon. To join them."
He remained silent.
"Thank you for allowing me to stay here these past few days." A small smile surfaced on her face –soft and gentle. When had he last seen a smile like that directed towards him, ever since…? "Thank you. And for what it's worth, I really am sorry."
Three times.
That made it three times, that she'd said those words to him.
I'm sorry.
"… Sorry."
Maybe–
Perhaps–
What if–
If only he had been able to say 'sorry' to her, before…
… would that have changed anything?
(Both of you are stubborn, refusing to back down, and the strength you held, the authority that you prided yourselves on; what eventually destroyed us–)
He gave a low grunt when the shark brushed against him, gold eyes flickering to him in concern, before falling back to the little girl whose hand was still entangled in his coat. As if he needed support, as if he–
(It was that refusal to show weakness that destroyed us, that refusal to relinquish control, that unyielding-arrogance-unbending–)
"Xanxus?"
"Get out," he suddenly snapped; his voice brusque and harsh. For a moment he saw that bewildered hurt in her eyes as she drew back, but he didn't, couldn't, wouldn't –and wasn't it better for them to stay that way? "Get out of my sight."
He purposely avoided meeting the shark's blistering glower in lieu of watching the hazel-eyed girl slowly turn and leave in absolute silence. Walking away from him, each step she took deepening the wide chasm that existed between them –past, present, and future; a lifetime ago and even in this lifetime now, and perhaps even in every lifetime to come.
…
… Hadn't it always been this way?
LXXXV.
There she was, sitting on that swing in the gardens.
He smiled, melting out of the shadows to land lightly in front of her.
"Kufufu. What can I do for you, Stella? It's rare for you to seek out my company like this. Did the Varia finally run out of people to kill?"
A flicker of indigo Mist flames snapped irritably at him for that latter comment, and he countered it by coaxing lotus flowers to bloom from her flames. The fragrant blossoms fluttered around the both of them as they fell through the air, and the hazel-eyed girl reached out a single hand to catch one of the lotuses in the center of her palm.
Mukuro raised an eyebrow when she absentmindedly began running the smooth texture of the petals under her fingertips instead of incinerating them on the spot, as she had done so many countless times before.
Their relationship had always been this way –a strange mix of friends and enemies, ensconced within truths and lies. Open deception, where they acknowledged each other's strength as an illusionist by playing tricks of their own whenever they met –which served as much as training as it was a form of amusement for them.
It's hard to say what they really are to each other.
Ever since the day he drew out Stella Squalo from the darkest depths of Nakamura Setsuko's mind, when Mukuro looked into her soul and she reached back into his –in some ways, they would always be standing on opposite ends to each other, forever held at arm's length. But at the same time –in a twisted sense of things– they also knew each other better than anyone else would ever know, even aside from the strange kinship forged from walking from life to death and back again.
For when you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back into you.
"… It's nothing." Stella finally said, letting the lotus flower cupped in her hands fall. He watched curiously as she threaded another sliver of her Mist into the scattering petals, turning them all into a dozen butterflies dancing on the wind. Female illusionists have always loved beauty, but it wasn't like her to be so whimsical –not with him, at least. "Really, it's nothing. Nothing at all."
… How interesting, the tone of her voice. Just who is she trying to convince? Him? … Or herself?
"Positive of that now, are we?" He inserted a small drawl into his voice, knowing it would grate on her nerves, considering the mood she was in. "'Nothing' now, is it?"
He swats at the butterfly landing on his nose. Stella looks every bit the perfect image of innocence when he shoots a mild look of annoyance in her direction –but the humor in her eyes give her away.
Shaking his head, he offers a small, exasperated smirk in response.
"Feeling better, I assume?" Mukuro asks dryly, and she lets out a soft laugh. A delicate bell-like sound that he finds himself liking more than he should, much to his chagrin, because he knows that she–
"Somewhat." The last butterfly lingering on her fingertip finally springs into the air, and they both watch it flutter away in a moment of companionable silence. "… I will not have others controlling my actions, Mukuro."
He raises an eyebrow, deducing that the seemingly errant comment is part of the reason why she has sought him today. Or maybe the main reason itself, even.
"Of course I know that, Stella." Another heartbeat of silence, and then, dryly: "Otherwise, I'd be using you as a vessel, and not my dear little Chrome."
The latter comment somehow startles another laugh out of her, another sweet chime of tinkling bells.
Part of her whimsical mood must've caught onto him –a small step, and he was standing on top of the swing behind her, vaulting them forward and drinking in that laughter–
And for a moment, even though his body was still trapped in the watery depths of Vendicare and restless rumors of war stir on the horizon–
Everything is perfectly fine in the world.
LXXXVI.
Box animals are an interesting concept. Something about it feels oddly familiar to her, as if she had known of them a long, long time ago –but then, that was ridiculous, wasn't it?
(After all, box weapons had only been developed in this day and age; where in the world would she have heard of them prior to this?)
She reached out a hand towards the peacock glowing with Sun flames. The colorful bird ducked its head under her fingertips almost immediately, crooning softly.
"Ah! My sweet little birdie has always been fond of you, Stella."
She offered a small smile to Lussuria, who stood above her on the stairway.
"Everyone has a box animal?"
"Almost everyone." The Sun-user corrected, re-opening his box and letting the peacock return to its confines in a brilliant burst of bright yellow flames. "It takes a lot of flames to be able to open a box in the first place, and not everyone can use a box animal effectively. Us members of the upper tier all have our own box animals, but the poor dearies in the lower ranks still have a long way to go."
"I see." She stood up from her crouch, stretching. "What animal does Superbi have?"
"A shark." They share a brief moment of amusement over that together. "Bel has a mink, Levi has a sting ray, and Fran… well… you'll see, if he ever decides to use it."
"And Xanxus?"
Lussuria glances down at her, and –not for the first time– she very much wishes that he doesn't wear those sunglasses, just so she can read his eyes. Body language had always been harder for her to interpret in comparison to the eyes.
Still; there's definitely something in his tone when he counters her question with one of his own.
"Why do you ask about our dear Boss, Stella?"
She shrugs, gaze falling to the side.
"… Simple curiosity."
The man hummed lightly, and –with a tone of mischief–
"Now, what's the fun in me giving all the answers to you? Why don't you stick around and see for yourself?"
She gave him a dry little smile in response.
"Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do, Lussuria. They asked for me in Japan, didn't they? I'm grateful that the Varia has accepted me for so long, but I can't be staying here forever."
The flamboyant man gave her a wholly unashamed smile, and her eyes tracked the sad edge it carried –before the edges of his mouth twitched upwards and the flaw disappeared.
LXXXVII.
"Irie-sama, what are your orders?"
LXXXVIII.
"Something wrong?"
She appreciates the gesture. The Varia is currently in the midst of preparing for the raid, going over various strategies and battle plans all day long –and her brother somehow still finds the time to inquire about her wellbeing. Still notices when something is bothering her, and worries enough to confront her about it.
"… A little."
Superbi doesn't ask anything more, but sits down beside her instead on the outdoor bench. Long strands of silver hair blow into her face, sweeping around her –and she feels a sudden surge of protective affection as she leans over and gives him a hug, ignoring that half-hearted grumbling when he reaches out an arm and tucks her into his side.
(Sometimes, for a bizarre moment, she still can't quite get over the fact that he let his hair grow out so long.)
"I found a photograph in my room a while back, when I was in the middle of looking around to see if my future-self left behind anything of importance in that room." A small pause. She turns to face him, looking up into his eyes. It was now or never to ask the question, once she was Japan… "Tell me, Superbi… am I… in this world, did I… was I…"
It's been a while since she last stumbled over her words like this. Faust would be scandalized, but really –how does one go about asking a question like this?
"… Was I married?"
For a moment, he sits there silently, golden eyes fixed upon her own. There's a hint of surprise at her asking this question, followed by a chaotic maelstrom of something else in his eyes –resignation, acceptance, grudging consent, however reluctant–
And then those emotions shutter off completely when he closes his eyes and gives a sharp nod.
… It doesn't make her feel any better, because if it's true, if he confirmed it, then that means…
…
She lets out an explosive breath, feeling her head spin.
It's not a pleasant sensation, nor is it a pleasant revelation to come to terms with.
LXXXIX.
There is a star-filled lake, and a girl who stands on top of the still waters.
A ghost, a fragment, a memory.
… But nonetheless real. And that made all the difference, didn't it?
Unlike the gray-eyed girl sitting in the boat –raven hair, gray eyes– Stella Squalo was real. Oh, maybe this Setsuko had been real once –a diminutive little child, the youngest of three, a timid girl. Two older brothers, and a mother and father who loved them all equally, unconditionally. A little girl who lived a peaceful, civilian life in the town called Namimori. A girl who went by the name of Nakamura Setsuko, for that was who she was.
Nakamura Setsuko.
And she knew very well that Setsuko was not Stella Squalo. Couldn't be. For Stella Squalo had been born with pinpoint clarity and perfect recall of memories stemming from another lifetime –while Setsuko had been born a plain, simple, normal girl; just as any infant should be, just as the natural order of laws dictated things to be. So while Nakamura Setsuko might have inhabited the same soul as Stella Squalo, they certainly were not the same person. And Stella had always harbored a fond spot for this girl who was-but-wasn't her.
But somewhere along the lines of things, when she had been using the Mist to tether her mind to a rotting shell, while the rest of her being, her consciousness, flitted onwards into the void, it had resulted in–
A mistake.
An anomaly.
Something unnatural.
And then Nakamura Setsuko had ceased to exist when something else took her place, as Stella Squalo re-joined as the missing piece of a broken soul, too soon and too late all at the same time. When the nightmares came and Marion's Voices sounded, causing an innocent child to be crushed under an overwhelming wave of spilled blood and unshed tears and the bitter, pyrrhic victory of satisfaction-regret–
Something else had been born.
Not quite Setsuko, for Setsuko had been a gentle child. A soft-spoken girl, who would've grown into a fine young woman and made a place for herself in this world with that paintbrush of hers. A girl who embraced peace and abhorred conflict.
So she knew that this thing wasn't Setsuko, and not quite Stella, either –for Stella knew herself, knew the cruelty she was capable of, the lengths she would go to in order to protect those dear to her, the price she would gladly pay for power. And she knew that this thing had somehow grasped tendrils of Setsuko's kindness instead of Stella's ruthlessness as it had been born from the recesses of their mind as Setsuko withered away under the influx of Stella's memories.
So.
… Not quite Setsuko, but not quite Stella. What was it, then?
"I don't suppose you could tell me who I am?" The thing-in-Setsuko's-shape asked, image flickering and fading fast.
And then an answer came to her, blindingly obvious in its simplicity and falling from her lips as easily as breathing.
Fake.
XC.
It's time.
… Still. Of all the people sent to pick her up from the Varia's Headquarters to take her to Japan –she hadn't expected them to send him, even though she could certainly understand the rationale behind sending him now…
(They say hindsight is 20/20. Why hadn't she seen this coming?)
"… The hell are you doing here, scum?"
She doesn't think she's ever heard Xanxus sound so cold during the entire duration of her stay here. Even if he deliberately kept his distance from her, even if he took to avoiding her ever since that one time in the hallway, even if he was a man of few words and even less in her presence –there's still a part of her that cries for him, whenever she sees the hurt-anger-regret dancing in his flames.
She glanced up just in time to see the darkening of his face, the subtle way he shifted protectively in front of her–
"Why, I'm simply here to bring Stella to Japan with me." A pair of red-blue heterochromatic eyes glinted under the light, glittering dangerously as the tall man took another step towards them. Towards her. "You would not begrudge a man from taking care of his wife now, would you?"
.
…
.
Author's Notes:
… So, anyone see the Mukuro thing coming? ;3 Heh, guess what the poll results were. xD I didn't allow two votes per person for no reason! And if you'll notice in Fran's POV last chapter –when he comments that letting Stella die would be a Bad Idea, the first person to come after his skin would be Squalo, but the second person is Mukuro. Xanxus ranks third on that list. Now you know why. ;)
Q: Is it really Mukuro himself we're seeing here?
A: Patience, young grasshopper. You'll find out in the next chapter.
… Aaaand, we've got another small scene in the mindscape, this time from "Stella's" POV instead of the one we usually see it from. Bear in mind, while some of the things she says are true, that doesn't necessarily mean that everything she says is true –and she is going off of her own perceptions, which may or may not be true at all. ;3
Next chapter we should be getting into the beginning of the operation –you know, the one when Vongola launches their worldwide counterattack against the Millefiore. Tsuna&co. invade the Melone base in Japan while the Varia launch their raid on that castle in Italy. Anyone excited for that? :)
Also, since school is starting –updates might begin slowing down soon. Some snippets I have jotted down or pre-written already, but… well… hope you enjoyed these rapid summer updates while they lasted. xD I make no promises for the school year other than, 'I'll try my best.' We'll see how it goes. :D
QUESTION: Who do you presume was more instrumental in future-Stella's death? Byakuran or Torikabuto? Why? ;3
Please leave a note on what you think, and till next time~
-XxZuiliu
