A/N: Please note that for extremely odd reason that's getting very upsetting, the site's editor is no longer saving any of my changes for spacing. I tried for the last hour and it did not save one change as far as spacing went. Please forgive how bunched up everything looks for the last two chapters. I apologize if it makes reading it difficult or looking at it more unattractive.
Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Summary: A series of character studies, because every character deserves a tale, even if it is never heard. Part Ten: Burnt Marshmallow
Chapter Summary: Burnt Marshmallow. Xanxus, Lanchia, Mukuro, Skull, Reborn, Hibari
Desserts
Part X: Burnt Marshmallow
i. Xanxus
And Xanxus, for all his red-hot passion, for all his burning intensity, is hard and unforgiving. He is cold, he is ice. A thick wall of ice. But ice can be burning in its intense coldness and it burns coldcoldhot if you get to close to it. You can't touch it, can't hold it, can't lean against it when you are tired, can't use it for shelter from the storm. You can only sit and marvel at its utter coldness, at its hardness and at its power. Even ice can melt from the heat of the sun, from flames and fire though. But that sun's been hiding for so long and he's still waiting for it to come out.
ii. Lanchia
And he is just another useful toy, serving its purpose of the moment. And maybe he's just Mukuro's puppet, his strings being twitched and pulled as fingers move and flicker. But he used to be so much more, didn't he? And maybe now, all he is is a killing machine. And maybe now, all he is is a shadow warrior, the fake Mukuro Rokudou. But that's just a mask he wears, a mask he is forced to wear. And maybe one day that mask will crackcrackcrack, maybe one day that mask will breakbreakbreak and he'll be Lanchia again.
iii. Mukuro
And there's something cold in his face, something hard and bitter in that uglyuglybeautiful face. There's something terrifying in those arrogant features, something fearful in those empty eyes. Empty just like his heart, that's what they whispered. Fucking bullshit, that's all that was. Empty just like his heart, that's what they whispered. But those eyes can see all too well how they flinch away in fear, how they don't want to touch him, how they see him as a monster. And maybe he is. Or maybe it's all just bullshit. Maybe it's just more of his smoke and mirrors. Because maybe he's not cold and nihilistic because he doesn't feel, because he doesn't know but because he knows too much, feels too much. Maybe it's because he sees more than anyone else, sees how humanity breaks and blackens themselves every single day. Maybe it's because he feels all the pain and anger and sickness roiling in his stomach, sticking in his throat and choking him. Maybe it's because he's always the consummate survivor as he studies and betters humanity, fighting and feeling enough for the whole damn world.
iv. Skull
Mommy, why's that man have so many earrings? She was a cute little girl, out shopping with her mother. And Skull would almost have laughed at her question, child-like and cute as it was. Would have, if not for the way the mother had pulled the daughter away instantly, muttering something about they had to get going now and leaving strange men alone, looking anywhere but at Skull. He would have bent down still and told the girl that it was okay to ask questions, would have laughed and answered her question if the mother's reaction hadn't reminded him of a million other ones. Oh my god, what a freak! or He's so scary! I bet he's a punk! or a thousand and one other variations. Yeah, he would've said something, would've done something more than just turned around and walked away if the world was capable of doing something more than just judging him on his piercings and tattoos, on his leather and motorcycle; he would've if the world could only take time to judge by souls and actions, by words and who he was.
v. Reborn
Reborn is every inch an assassin, every touch the hitman. He is strong and brutal and ruthless in his attempts to erase the threats to the family. Reborn was hard and cold, fierce and proud, beautiful and completely untouchable. He was unshakable, stoic, unfazed by all things in life. He trusted nobody, wanted and needed nobody. But that wasn't quite true, was it, he thought as he watched his students as they talked and laughed together. They really didn't even need him. They could've made it quite well all on their own. They were good people; good men and they could've done this all with their own willpower. But he'd chosen to train them, to be with them even if they didn't need him. Because maybe it was the other way around, he mused, maybe he was the one needing them.
vi. Hibari
And Hibari is cold and cruel and sadistic and all those other things they accuse him of. And he is frightening and a monster, just like they say. But they also say that there is nothing good in Hibari, that he is all warrior god and bloodshed and battle. But sometimes Tsuna has to wonder if that is right, has to wonder at those times where Hibari seems to almost care, when he helps even though it goes against everything Hibari likes and believes in. And sometimes Kusakabe knows that isn't right, knows because the sting of the tonfas as they strike him is not as painful as it could be and should be, because the injuries aren't as critical as they should be and the blows aren't as often as one would expect. And sometimes they all wonder if that's true, staring at the ball of yellow fluff, feathers and beak and wings and legs.