Uhm... I know I made warnings and everything at the beginning, but I feel the need to tell you all that this chapter is... There's torture on children, I hated myself writing it, as I always do when I make someone, fictional as it can be, suffer. I feel the need to warn you. I have not depicted gory or details (not too many), but I've written emotions, and those are way harder to digest, in my opinion. When I noticed how much I was going to make everyone suffer, I just had to note down this little piece for you. I'm sorry. This was not easy to write for me, I didn't enjoy it. Don't hate me, ok? This was on the canon, anyway, just not...

Ugh... I'm sorry, I'm rambling. Ok, get a grip.

YaMi: Right, stop it. You're depressing me.

Yeah, yeah, back to work. :)

Oh, and this is my longest chapter until now. I'm dividing it into three parts so that it's not too much to read at once.

Snow-hime: Uhm... Maybe not me xD I love felines. Tsuna, too! Anyway, Lambo was not the only one eheheh! Writing blocks, I'll banish you from this world! Thanks, I had a lot of troubles with that chapter and, in the end, I thought it was crap, honestly... But, well, you say awesome and brighten my day :D Muku-chan... was a bit easier. In Hayato's case, I had to build it from scratches, basically. Mukuro, instead, has laid his chapter out for me... Not a good thing, if you've read my earlier note... Anyway, just the time to properly knit the pieces together and create something new, then it was time to put black on white :) Thanks!

foxchick: Really?! Thanks! I'm so happy about that! :D

anneko16: Eheh! :P Natsu will appear soon, connect the dots a bit more :P Thanks! Tsuna has the keys to everyone's heart, of course he has a different opinion xD Yeah, I think the next one will be the filler, though I'm wondering if... No need to thank me, I like answering and, someway, it is my duty and a way to thank you all for the support :) Thanks!

Sakihinata: Haya-chan's POV is interesting, I agree, but it is damn hard to conjure o.o Yes, he is :) After all, he doesn't need to be that way, but personalities develop in time, he will come to be himself, just a tad bit more in control :) Thank you!

SilentObserver: Thank you! :D I think so, too xD That bit polite but, at the same time, demanding... Awww Tsu-chan! Thanks!

Shiho: I know nothing :P I'm glad you did :D Yep! Haya-chan knows a bit of what happens in Vongola xD Thanks!

KITSUNE: Ahahahahah! Must be a shock xD Thank you!

Fallenstreet: XP Yeah, he is a challenge... Uhm... You only have to see :P Thanks!

2black2butterfly: I'm sorry, deeply sorry, but I can't be fast in updating. It's a thing I hate, but, if you want quality chapters, that's the price :) Thanks, for waiting, too!

Klanglilie: Thanks! Eheh, a lion is cute! Poor Natsu, even Reborn doesn't want him! Oh, but... See here :P Thank you!

Thanks for everything, as always!

Words: 5361.

Enjoy!

10 – Mukuro - Part 1

"In a moment, Young Master." The blonde maid – from Australia, he'd heard them gossip – left with a bow and closed the mahogany door.

Silence settled and the room felt, finally, peaceful. Pity she would have returned soon with his dark hot chocolate. It was a way to send her out for some minutes. Given the length at which they went to not let him out of their radar, she would have taken maybe ten minutes. Scratch that, five. She had probably already informed the kitchen so that, by the time she reached it, the mug would be ready to be taken.

Relaxing, somewhat, in the solace of silence and emptiness, Mukuro leaned back in the armchair and closed his eyes. The sweet void of breathing beings – him not included – soothed his mind, lulling it into the numbness of nothingness. The sound of the creaking – because he made it that way each time they fixed it – would warn him of the maid's return.

His blood-related father was trying to kill him.

Nothing new there, it had been that way for years. Maybe since his birth, he couldn't remember a day without a life-endangering situation.

No, actually, the strange thing was the way in which the man was trying to get rid of his blood son.

Usually, Mukuro had to dodge some knives there, a needle here, not eat a soup one day, not drink water the next. Now, though, there were no direct threats. He had not used maids, not yet, neither the Head Butler or the thugs, but he had… how to say it… yes, he had weakened the effort. With direct attempts, Mukuro could work and even train, but he was losing his sleep now.

One night, he had woken up to an unusual smell. Soporific gas. Which, what? He'd already been asleep – the aware sleep he was used to –, what was he trying to accomplish? What could he have gained? Making him sleep without him waking up suddenly? It was a theory, but why? He had thought long about that, and the most plausible hypothesis was that his blood-related father had experimented some kind of new gas on him, a failure by the look of it.

His Famiglia was known for that, after all. Experiments.

The scientific field was their field. Name the best scientists of the whole world, minus the renowned Arcobaleno, they had him contracted. They had several researches ongoing and most of them were revolutionary. Each family member was also destined to be in the business…

But Mukuro did not like that. For specific, important reasons.

Their ways.

The boy was not stupid, neither naïve. He knew, too well, how they, his family – blood-relatives –, tested their researches. He wanted to vomit just knowing he was part of their bloodline. Experiments on human beings. He scoffed. They had been guests at Vogola Nono's party just months prior. The old Don was notoriously against human experiments. If he ever got a gist of what his Famiglia was doing, they would be doomed. And yet, they had attended the birthday party, they had been welcomed warmly… What a joke.

Mukuro had wanted to just shout his Famiglia's crimes all the time.

But, as much as the idea thrilled and satisfied him, he couldn't. Because his father had done a checkmate. He'd threatened him, using his only weakness. He smiled bitterly, he had almost slipped and told that staring bo–

The creak of the door opening made Mukuro open his eyes and focus on the blonde maid. She had that sickening sweet – false – smile. No one in this mansion had the boy in good regards. He guessed his intimidating eyes and coldness, plus his father's influence, were the causes. She put the white, steaming mug on the table of the little living room. As long as he could remember, he'd always been confined in the East Wing, more precisely, in three rooms. A little bathroom was the only space in which no one entered while he was inside, thankfully. There was a ceramic bathtub, a shower, the toilet and a small ceramic sink encased in wooden furniture. The tiles covering the floor and the lower half of the walls were creamy with white flowers here and there. It was a classic Italian bathroom. Its only door led to his bedroom, a small room with a simple bed, an empty desk, a chair, an almost empty bookcase and a window through which he couldn't pass through. There were bars inside, hidden by a mosquito net. A cage, but his bed was comfy and the blue bedsheets were warm and silky. It was linked to a small living room, where Mukuro was eyeing his chocolate drink. A black couch, a wooden low table and some chairs on the red carpet that covered the entire floor. No windows, only some red curtains covering the empty walls.

Those were his confines, if he was not required to be present at some events, just to be flaunted as the heir, the genius. He was one, just not in the fields everyone believed him to be. Not the one he wanted to be.

He liked scaring people. That was one of his hobbies. He liked creeping them out, chasing them away from the mansion and push the blame on the last maid/butler that had tried to get rid of him. It was fascinating. No one ever suspected him, maybe because no one expected a child to, for example, steal a briefcase full of cocaine from the guest they were having for the night. Mainly because he'd hidden it under the head butler's bed. That man had tried to poison him, served him right.

Mukuro took the mug in his hands, relishing in the warmth of the hot drink. He blew on the surface, seeing with fascination as it became darker. It was solidifying. He used the spoon the maid had brought and took the thin layer of chocolate, bringing it to his lips. No funny smell, no funny flavour. Either they had not tried anything this time or it was a rather new poison. He would not be surprised if they had thought about using new developed things on his body. After all, why not? They were already trying to get rid of him, better use him until he lasted.

He blew some more and took a sip. Deliciously dark. Despite his like for this, he preferred sweets. For instance, he couldn't bear with bitter coffee or milk, he wanted them sweet. Chocolate was different.

Mukuro blinked.

Damn.

They had drugged it.

His vision swam, blurred. Darkness, a blink, the maid was nearer. He tried to glare. Hitting the floor was the last thing he registered as the world tilted.

A throbbing pain on the left side of his head made Mukuro stir. He opened his eyes, only to be greeted by darkness. He blinked repeatedly, massaging the bump and trying to pat around. His head hurt, but he had to understand where he was.

He'd been drugged, he remembered in his fuzzy mind. That damn maid was going to get his rage, as soon as he got out of this. She was surely enjoying the money his father had paid her as a reward for getting rid of his unruly son. Bloody bastard.

With a deep breath, he cleared his mind. He could feel a pavement, smooth. He was lying on some floor, so he sat up slowly to not trigger dizziness. He waited for his eyes to adjust until he could make out the nearest thing.

Bars.

He was in a cage. A small cage. Big enough to let him sit, not stand. It was cubical, with big chains and a lock to keep its door closed. He resisted the urge to scoff, then damned himself. He had not learned how to pick locks. He was trapped. Mukuro wasn't surprised.

Of course, everything was clearer. His father had stopped trying to kill him because he had decided to use him as an experiment. He looked around, but the darkness was too thick to distinguish farther. There were pained breaths all around, a whine from his right and some grunts at his left. He was not alone in the facility.

Now… How to get out of this.

He knew the location of each building his Famiglia used to store experiments. The problem was to get out of his cage, then out of the room and past the supposedly heavy security. Not easy. He could be sneaky, even with his hurting head – he was rather sure he'd hit the floor, but was it the drug still acting in his system? –, but these men his father hired were trained. With their business and the constant danger of being found out by other, stronger Famiglie, they had to be the best of the best. Well, they could not afford the Sun Arcobaleno, but they tried for just below the World's Best.

With nothing to work with but the lock he could barely see, Mukuro leaned back on the bars, feeling the wall just behind them, and settled to wait. For literally anything. He was betting on some kind of scientist to come collect someone for their experiments.

He readied his mind for pain.

His body had to manage.

Whatever they were going to do to him, he would keep his eyes open and observe everything he could. There had to be a way out. He had to escape. Maybe burn the place down as a little reminder of how vengeful he could get. And then, off to take care of his 'weakness'. Thinking about it, everyone always seemed edgy around him when he wore his smile. He had to use every weapon he had at disposal.

Mukuro had no idea what was expecting him.

They came after a long time. From his experience in staying in a room without daylight for hours, maybe half a day after he'd woken up.

The sound of a key turned swiftly to unlock a door gave him enough time to close his eyes, wary of sudden light hitting his orbs. He made sure to have his smile on and blinked repeatedly to adjust his sight, again. Footsteps flowed in the room. He could see now.

This thing resembled a storage room.

There were two dozen cages lined against the longer, opposite walls. There was a little alley left free for people to pass through. Men and women in white cloaks were there, with clipboards in their hand and pens writing quickly on papers. They were conversing with each other, but in different languages that Mukuro had not learnt.

He looked at the nearby cages. At his left, it was empty, but there was blood on the wall behind it and on the bottom. He narrowed his eyes at the blonde lock of hair caught in the door of the cage. There was dried blood on it and… He moved his gaze to the right. There was a child, maybe younger than himself, curled up. He was shieldin– he was dead. There was no movement, no fast breaths that testified the fear that caused that position.

One of the scientist opened the cage and whistled. A man in black came in, took the body from the collar of the ragged shirt and brought him out. Mukuro didn't let his smile fall, but he hoped that these empty cages could be so for a long time. Maybe, not seeing all of this would have been better.

Yet again, these things shouldn't even exist. Would he really live better not knowing the truths this worls hid behind birthday parties and job meetings? Better safe than sorry.

He swallowed thickly and waited. The other cages were too far and the light coming through the door too dim to let him analyse the other occupants. There were, however, different breaths, from haggard to scared, and some wails.

Mukuro waited.

The scientists went on for some minutes, maybe twenty, then the same one from before whistled and three men in black came. Some of the white-clad men took keys and opened some cages. His, too. He didn't resist when the bigger, stronger man took him from the arm, probably bruising it. They dragged him out of the room.

There was a corridor. White walls, white tiled floor, no windows, few doors. Identical to the one of the storage. More stacks of guinea pigs, he hoped not.

He didn't ask questions. His mind was fully focused on mapping the long aisle, each turn and door. There were no more people aside the three kids, him included, dragged by the three men and the scientists, that were talking in hushed tones just behind them.

The hallway became larger with each step – like his carefully controlled dread – and they entered in a waiting room of sort… There were chairs, and glasses on the… No, it was not a waiting room.

It was a spectators' room.

In front of the neatly disposed chairs was a glassed wall. He could see five rooms, similar to each other. Tables with stacks of papers near the walls, whiteboards written all over… beds in the centre, with leather straps fit for kids' sizes. The walls were not white anymore, but grey, as if dirty. There was no red stain. The lights were dim there, too, but not in the… experimenting rooms. They were bright to let the show be seen clearly.

The boys in front of him started making resistance. A blonde and a dark-haired one. He couldn't see them well, so Mukuro focused on his task. Observing as much as he could.

They were taken to a door on the right side and he noted that there was another at the left. Probably the way the spectators came in from. There was a possibility it led out of the building, but, judging from the fact he had still to see a single window, they were probably underground, which meant it would be harder to escape.

Well-played, father. A lot of facilities were like that, so he had no leads as to where he was.

Mukuro checked his smile was in place and prepared himself. They were about to experiment on him. What did he expect? Pain, wounds, tiredness, violence, needles, poison, drugs. Something else? He didn't know. Probably.

They walked through the hidden aisle and the three men waited in front of three doors. Judging from the planimetry he'd just noted in his mind, they led to the showcased rooms. Six scientists came and opened the doors. Mukuro lost sight of the other kids. But he couldn't shrug off the pure fear displayed on their faces.

He resisted the urge to swallow and looked forward. As much as he wanted to be anywhere else – literally –, he was there, right there, about to be experimented on. The things his family did on others, about to be done on him… They deserved even worse.

Mukuro was pushed through the doorstep. He didn't resist. A short scientist with grey hair and a pair of white-rimmed glasses frequently slipping from his nose nodded to the man in black. This one took him up and made him lay down on the bed. He swiftly – how many times and to how many had he already… how many. – tied the leathers straps around his wrists and ankles. Either they thought he would escape or it was to stop him from moving too much because of… because of something else. Fear, pain, hate… name it.

The scientist got busy with whatever he had on the table – he couldn't see from his position – and the other man left, door closing behind him. The click of a key fell on the silence with finality. Mukuro closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, he swore to himself: he would get out of this. And, if not unscarred, on his body or in his mind, at least he would do that while walking. Alive. Free. Breathing.

He squashed down the oppressing feeling pervading his chest and breathed regularly.

"Now, now…"

He swallowed despite his control. His smile was still on place, he wanted to believe it was the same as always.

"Let's see if I can wipe that smile off of your face, brat."

The man had a syringe in his hand, ready to be used. A spit of something oddly violet came out. Mukuro decided he wanted to seem brave and uncaring about everything.

"Now, now…" He spat back. "Let's see you try, lowlife."

The smirk on the other's lips dropped, as did a cloth in his mouth and the needle, right in his left arm. He watched with concealed but rising distress the liquid being pushed in his body.

He didn't have time to try to feel it.

The pain came immediately.

He gasped, teeth clenched around the cloth. He gripped the bed under his palms, eyes looking up but without sight. He could only see white.

His skin burned. Every little corner on his body felt like it was on fire. Like a thousand needles were pierced all over, again and again and again but without blood.

His bones ached as if broken. Each of them. He could even feel the little ones in his hands as he let go of the thin bedsheet. He gasped, or tried to, and closed tightly his eyes.

His blood was boiling because of that strange liquid, making him hot and feel like he was feverish. Dizzy. He panted through his nose, trying to control the pain and failing miserably.

His head hurt, a throbbing pulse that made his whole body wince without pause. He could barely register the movements, the twitches of his aching muscles.

He couldn't shout, but he would have not. No sound came through his throat.

Then, suddenly, thankfully… soothing darkness.

Mukuro lost count of days after the fourth one. Between feeling more exhausted as minutes passed by, the lingering pain that never left him and trying to piece together his sanity every time he could, he understood how weak he was. Weak, weak, completely useless.

As Glasses, the scientist, never failed to remind him.

The day went like this, though the time was a foreign notion.

Gorillas came. They took two to five children, Mukuro always figured in the supposed list. Endless experiments that left him unconscious most of the times.. Brought back to the storage room. Fed; even via IV, they had to survive. Especially him, he had the suspicion.

For the sake of progress.

What progress? In interrogation? Torture? Resilience? Addiction? At. What. Cost.

His pain, his blood, his mind, his body, his sanity… They were of no value against money. Funny.

The hate increased day by day, after every experiment, after every new drug they put in his system, after every damn needle pushed through his skin.

He was full of wounds, from bruises, on his wrists and ankles, to cuts, on his stomach and face, to holes, because of the needles. When Glasses had his ways with him, he could be drugged, then wounded to see his endurance/feeling after the excruciating pain. Or he could be cut and then drugged, to see the effectiveness of some curative liquid – it was never curative. Or Glasses could use a ice cube to freeze randomly one of his limbs, to then proceed cutting, pulling, gripping, anesthetize said limb. He had pondered cutting it whole, once, but Gorilla had entered the room to stop him, to remember him how 'valuable' Mukuro was as a thing to experiment on. Glasses had tch-ed with barely concealed irritation.

The boy wasn't interested in studying them on a personality level, but he needed to see their boiling point, so the man was probably being more sadistic on him than on the others. He knew from how many times Gorilla came in to stop the experimenting session, which…

Mukuro wasn't hopeful, but maybe he had some kind of… weapon? Value speaking. But, then… Why waste his body in this kind of stupid – a fearful voice in his mind supplied the word 'painful', but he ignored it as he'd been doing a lot later – experiments if he was so 'valuable'? Certainly his father had some hidden agenda for him, considering how much trouble he'd endured to have him in his putrid clutches. And how much he paid for such a feat to be successful.

Surely, though, those were the daily experiments everyone endured.

There was… a sort of comfortable camaraderie in the storage room. True, the occasional smell that disappeared rather soon – more like they got used to it – made them glare at each other, though they hadn't really the need to get the big one out, thanks to the IV, but… How could he say this… The children were always tense when the men came, instead there was a comfortable, almost hugging silence when they were far. Not in the room.

It was not something tangible, neither Mukuro accepted it willingly because it was a weakness in his book, but it was there and offered a strange kind of comfort, of understanding. He still had problems dealing with it, because the smile he hardly kept on wavered those times, and two brats even kept trying to talk to him. With sore voices, dead eyes and tired features, but they tried. Every time they could. The same ones from his 'first day'.

An ominous chuckle made him refocus on the present. He was too tired to want to open his eyes, but he did, and made sure to have his smile. With relieved satisfaction, it creeped the Gorillas and the scientists just fine. A reason good enough for him to keep enduring and let them see how he was stronger.

Stronger than these low lives.

Stronger than his father always thought him to be.

Stronger than their pathetic tries at bending him.

Stronger than their strongest drug.

He had to be. And he had to focus.

"Finally we can begin with the serious stuff."

That falsely sweet voice made a shiver run down his spine, uncomfortable and dreadful. So, he was right. There was another reason why they wanted him, specifically. There was something more.

"You know, there's this new sequence of serums we've recently developed."

Glasses had a bigger than usual syringe in his hands. The substance was red, blood red. Was it blood…?

Another low chuckle. "Let's 'try' it, okay?"

As if he had a damn choice. The needle was in his arm in a heartbeat. He closed his eyes, waiting for whatever was coming with a clear and ready mind. He waited, feeling the thing swarming in his veins… and waited. And a bit more. Then he suppressed a frown. There wasn't even the groan from Glasses when something didn't give Mukuro pain – very rare occurrence, but much appreciated.

With anxiousness, he opened his eyes. And had to blink. Thrice.

He was not in the experimenting room.

All around him was darkness, an endless nothing. He warily sat up, looking down. His skin was still wounded and bruised, but the bed was not there. Neither the leather straps, which he was thankful for.

Mukuro stood, looking around. There was no sound, only the taps of his feet on… the floor was an expanse of black liquid, water maybe, he couldn't tell in the darkness. It sure felt calming, with no strange smell, no scientists, no suffering children, no Gorillas, no experiments… But where was he?

A hum reached his ears. He whipped his head behind him, there was nothing. Another hum, he turned again– Where had that door appeared from?

It was red, blood red, like the liquid he had just been injected. Two big bat wings of the same colour were on its upper corners. It towered over him by how much it was taller and wider. On it was a craved sign, maybe a symbol. It was a square with two signs like mirrored commas, but differently curved, on the inside, almost closing the two upper corners of the square. He didn't know what to think of it. He'd never seen a symbol like that before.

Mukuro stilled. He had a feeling he wouldn't like what was behind it. Not counting how there was nothing, because he could walk around it, but… He also thought he had to open it to go out of whatever this was. He had no idea of the where, what and how. Was that drug the culprit? What had it done? What was it doing? Was this all an… illusion?

With reasonable wariness, the boy pushed the door. It immediately opened on its own. Mukuro poked his head through, seeing the same darkness, but thicker. He could hear low, unintelligible whispers carried in the air. With a deep breath, he passed through… And the darkness lifted as the door closed.

What he saw, he was sure he could never forget.

Heat was the first thing he registered. Scorching heat lapping at his skin, along with a heavy feeling of panic that settled on his shoulders and stomach. His eyes darted from one side to the other and he noticed the door had completely disappeared. The entire floor that had been covered in murky water was now like an apocalyptic vision of Earth almost completely covered and eaten by fire. A dark, fiery red of flames licking everything with glee. The usual sound of burning resembled a chuckle.

There had been a road in front of him, once. Now, chunks of black, hot asphalt could be seen among the masses of… of… beings.

There were human-like things lurking around without purpose. They were naked, but also sex-less. There were no males or females, only those things, hunched forward, without eyes, without noses or ears. They were roaming aimlessly as if without a soul. Their skin was almost yellow and seemed tough. Their limbs were abnormally long and thin. They had no hair, skin completely bare but dirty and sweaty. He could smell it with ashes and blood.

Despite his desire to think otherwise, he was scared of them.

He wanted to–

A sudden, loud noise made him turn to the left. His eyes widened.

There had once been a mini-market. It was barely standing on two walls, the other two's bricks were completely visible, half fallen on the fuming asphalt. He could see the floor of the upper level, the metal bars keeping it together almost melted, bent at strange angles. What had once been creamy was then crisped and burnt on the walls. The expositors were knocked over, some were on fire and shopping carts made the picture all the more abandoned and apocalyptic.

One of those beings was on the ground floor of the ruined building. It was throwing up something black through its mouth. He hadn't seen that on the others, it was wide, big, from what he could consider one end of the jaw to the other. There were no teeth. The smell of putrefaction drifted to his nose, that he promptly closed with two fingers. He could recognize it. It was the same of the boys in the storage room, when they died and no one noticed because they were not needed as experiments, for days.

The other beings slowly turned to the puking one. They started walking to it. And then, Mukuro saw the mouths, saw the two sets of pointy teeth.

They leaned down… and sank those teeth in the flesh. Black blood spilled from several bites. The beings got splashed and thrived in it. He could feel them. Mukuro took a step back without noticing.

Everything stopped. One of those things had his teeth in the prey's shoulder, he could see the black blood bubbling, the wounds, where the teeth tore the skin, made the black flesh meet the heavy air. They turned to him. His breath stopped. His heart raced in his ribcage, almost wanting to escape.

As he did.

The beings moved, slowly, but Mukuro was one step away from fleeing.

His eyes darted from one point to the other, searching. There had to be a damn way out, a door, something!

Then he saw it. A pair of red bat wings without a body flapping over him soundlessly, as if it was a mere illusion. He didn't doubt its existence as much as he doubted his sanity and this whole place.

He started running. Without looking back at the mass of beings that were following him – he could hear their pants and gurgling. Their hunger. He wanted to get out of this. This was tenfold worse than being experimented on.

This was scaring him like nothing else ever had. It was pure adrenaline and anxiety that made his aching limbs move. Over the high chunks of asphalt. Past the remnants of another by then black being that smelled of corpse. Down the collapsed bridge. And again over a rusty shopping cart and left of an abandoned, ruined camper. He followed the bat wings with tears prickling his eyes, swallowing them back with the pants and the desire to let out his pure terror through a relieving scream.

Other beings joined the parade behind him as Mukuro ran and ran and ran. He didn't stop, not even when a hand with long, clawed fingers tore apart the remnants of his bloody shirt over his shoulder. A tear escaped the corner of his eye and was soon forgotten, blown away by the wind of his speed run.

The wings made a turn to the right. The boy had trouble following it, but he pushed forward, past the rusty guardrail and over the metal fence, ignoring the pain when he landed on the fallen barbed wire. The horde behind him didn't allow him any leeway. It was escaping or being eaten.

Mukuro looked up and dread mixed up with hope filled his mind and stomach.

He could see the door. The blood red door. The bat wings split and fused with its upper corners.

But he could also see a line of those things blocking his way to it.

He was in a dry, low canyon. Not low enough for him to jump over the concrete and evade them. He was trapped, behind him was the horde.

He didn't stop.

He couldn't stop.

Mukuro gritted his teeth and ran faster. He barely noticed his right eye felt odd.

The boy was almost a breath away from them when he jumped high over them. He kicked one's head, sending it on the dirt, directly on a heap of dark red flames. He used the momentum to evade a grabby hand. Instead, he gripped its wrist and pulled, making two more headbutt each other.

Without asking the world what the hell was happening, he stepped on one's head and jumped forward. He barely touched the door–

He opened his eyes.

Darkness greeted him.

Mukuro blinked, then groaned and sat up. His head hurt, his right eye hurt, his every limb hurt, as if… He stopped the panic rising in his chest and adjusted to the familiar darkness. He was back in the storage room. He hastily checked his body. His muscles were sore, as if he had really run that incredible marathon. He was sweaty. There was a new needle's hole on his arm and that area felt numb, as did his body, frankly. He felt more tired than ever, but he had a feeling it was also because of some sedative. Warily, he checked his shoulder.

He wanted to curse.

Three claw-like wounds were on his skin, rips on the already ruined shirt he had on since being brought there.

It… It had been real? That…

No. He had to stop trembling.

Mukuro took deep, silent breaths and closed his eyes.

Whatever that had been, wherever that had been, it was in the past. He had… overcome it.

"You okay…?"

"Right, pyon…"

Mukuro huffed, finally calm. The terror in his stomach was still there, but he just had to sleep it off.

"I am."

YaMi: Thanks for reading and for the unending support.

See ya next week!