WARNINGS: Torture, plot, Kokuyo, things that don't seem to be in coherent order but actually are… You know, the usual. Also, I'm complete MukuTsuna trash. You have been warned.

KOKUYO DAYS

001

Three knights on wait

The wake is a quiet affair, only for close family (none), friends (very little) and acquaintances (the neighbourhood). Takeda Keiko was a lonely woman, who only ever spent time with her friends and her dog, and who never liked wasting time socializing when she could be doing something else.

Hide and Mamma stand at the back of the mourning neighbours with their family. None of the wake-goers has shown signs of missing Tsuna's or Fuuta's presence, and Lambo had already kicked at some of the children who dared sneer at the the obvious lack of both ten years old. I-pin, in Bianchi's arms, had wanted to join, but she had decided it was better to just stay quiet. Reborn had vanished short hours ago, heading back to his temporary quarters wherever he was staying, and Hide hadn't complained.

"You may leave, if you want," says his mother, adjusting her hat to further cover her eyes. "We will head back to the Kusakabe's now."

Hide nods, with no need for words. He leaves the room, standing as straight as he can with Giotto's weighing on his back like heavy burning lead, and steps into the street with his path clear. Half a step behind, Gokudera joins him from his previous spot by the door, and together they make the way to Takesushi in complete silence.

He feels numb. He isn't sure if it is because of Giotto's influence or because he himself is completely void of anything right now, but he feels numb. Not that that will stop him from doing what he has to do, anyways; though they are banned from looking, that doesn't mean they are banned from asking around. Not that people are really useful sources of information, in this city.

"Welcome back," says Takeshi, closing the door behind them. Hide slumps on a chair, too tired to move, and lets Giotto slump with him like a too-warm ghostly blanket. Since no one is home right now, he has been staying at the Yamamoto's for a while and, well, it hasn't been comfortable at all. "Sorry I couldn't go."

Takeshi looks... tired. No longer the usually cheerful boy Hide used to know, but a fake man with too little sleep and weary steps. There are dark bags around his eyes that mirror those of his father's and, while one of them is still going out and doing things, Takeshi is stuck indoors under house arrest. His sword (a new one, a real one) is back to not leaving his side, strapped to his back like it belonged there -which he guesses, it does, as it is the Asari heirloom.

The table he is sitting at is littered with papers and half-written reports that Gokudera immediately latches on. Why does Yamamoto Tsuyoshi insist on leaving them information just laying around when he is all about 'everything is law and peace and Namimori', Hide doesn't know; it may be some weird sense of father responsability that tells him he has to help his son and his friends to get through this, but Hide doubts it. Maybe Yamamoto senior just keeps forgetting where he leaves his reports, which wouldn't surprise either Takeshi or Hide at all.

Takeshi joins them at the table, dropping two small glowing blue stones on it before snatching a paper from Gokudera and reading it out loud. They quickly dissolve into a verbal fight that is mostly anger and frustration and no teasing at all, and Hide sighs into his hands. Giotto, if possible, grows even more euphoric of everything around him, which pulls Hide along into a weird state of empathy-induced highness that he has felt a few times before. Ridiculous.

He picks up one of the papers and holds it up so Giotto, wherever his eyes are, can read it as well. Unexplainable disappearance of shoes near the premises of Kokuyoland, only to find them again hung from wirelines in Kokuyo's northern area; hung from a cat's guts, that is, along with the cat itself, which was barely clinging to life even with its inside pulled out from its jaw (no, we don't know how they did it, but the cat was alive- it is still alive, and it is staring at me-

Hide puts the report, facedown, back on the table and takes a deep breath. Fuck this city, what the heck, why is everything so weird.

"Did you reach the part where they unexplainably trip in the road, only to find themselves in the river for some mysterious reason?" Takeshi looks at him, a glint in his eyes, picking up a random sheet from the table and turning it around. He grins and shows it to them: it is a photo, in sepia scale, of a boy with a beanie hat fending off a fish. "Or the part where they found a box with photos, but when they tried to take it they burst into tears and got ruined by the water?"

"Gods, Kokuyo, why are you so impossible," is Hide's only response, as he bangs his forehead against the table a few times. Giotto, in his impossible wisdom, just drops a warm something on his head and ruffles his hair; it smells of caramel and ghost, which is normal, unlike crying photographs, fuck Kokuyo.

"No, according to this, that happened in Namimori," counter Hayato, pointing at another report sheet on the table. Which... doesn't surprise Hide at all, considering that Namimori is the town of the weird and the weirder, but still. "Oh, listen, listen. Two unmoving human shapes were seen through Midori security camera system all through Wednesday to Friday. The same three days, Midori and Yumei students reported supernatural phenomena around the town, and one Midori student was sent back home in tears after she allegedly saw a faceless man with a bird-like hat. Sounds like bullshit to me."

"Supernaturals in Midori? What?" Even Takeshi looks surprised, but then he goes back to looking for weird stories in the pile of supposedly real reports by the LN and associates. "Witnesses claim dragons were eating their flowers-"

"Next."

"Vanishing store's door now appearing two days of the week- well that could be useful-"

"No, next."

"Black hole in the sky- Who writes these things?" He laughs, loudly, and takes back his stones from the table. "I will go make some tea, want some?"

"Sure." "Yeah, thanks idiot."

002

Prince(s)

Things aren't okay.

It has been days since he woke up here, with Fuuta at his side. Days, yet no matter how much he continues calling no one comes. No Daemon, no Hide; he feels so empty, like he is slowly giving up into what he would have been had he not have someone else, except he does have someone else. He has Fuuta, Fuuta who he has to protect, Fuuta-

"Let's try this again, then."

Tsuna cries out, in pain. It has been days, and while their treatment hasn't been the worst, it hasn't been the best either. His injuries are still there, his bruises are still quite purple because they don't heal if time won't move (time stopped for him so long ago), and his mind feels jagged and torn in places it shouldn't be touched.

Still, he can't give up. He has to protect Fuuta, Fuuta who has done his best to keep quiet all this time, Fuuta who hasn't said a word, Fuuta-

Tsuna's head is pulled back, a claw pressed against his neck, and he struggles to reach the ground with his feet. He closes his eyes, doing his best to ignore the pain (never let your fear show in a dangerous situation, Daemon said, his ghostly fingers spread on the school's keyboard with the grace of fifteen decades without playing, for it will give your opponents more weapons against you), and raises his hand to hold the boy's own wrist. Maybe if he has enough leverage, maybe if he was healthy, maybe, maybe; useless.

He feels in his mind, himself, the broken connection to both Daemon and his life support growing farther and farther. He doesn't know how, but it is as if… as if something that was there, already, was simply being awoken to continue its job. Daemon, shoved somewhere far away. His pacifier, in his bag he can't reach because he is hanging from his neck, with a claw that can kill him next to his arteries, and he has never felt more scared in his life.

He thought, he thought that allowing Daemon -the sad, mad, loathing mess he met the first time, unable to comprehend even the basics of human interaction- into his head had been the scariest thing he had ever done, but he had been wrong. Then, he thought about his meeting with Byakuran, when his life had hung from a thread in his friend's hands, but that was wrong too. He thought of the loud sound of a gun firing, the murderous rabid animal dying from a single shot, and the building burning for long hours afterwards, how scared he felt they would be found out, but not that either.

Here, with his brother in danger and his life plainly exposed to an enemy, this is the worst situation he has ever found himself in and he can't do anything. He is so weak and useless, he lived through hell and heaven, and he can't save his brother from seeing him this way. He stayed alive past visions, past everything, and yet he can't do anything except...

He coughs. The hand tightens around him and he coughs again. His vision is growing fainter, blurrier, and he can't hear what the bright, bright and crazy boy is saying, but he knows it is something not good for him.

Fuuta's eyes are wide, his nails bitten through. The book lays behind him, closed and locked (this is a Flame lock, their ghost tutor spoke. It will only open in exposure to your Flames, or those of someone you trust), and his small body sits before it in its last form of defense. That stupid book that Tsuna wants nothing to do with, the book that all the Mafia would do anything for, the book they have been kidnapped for.

"Now, then," the man, Rokudo Mukuro -Shiraishi Kaiji-, speaks. His voice is smooth and pretends to not mean harm (these are the kind of people you must fear), but Tsuna feels something wrong and dangerous from him. Something completely broken. Much like the black, writhing ball of Flames that used to be Daemon, but worse, unhealable, something he can't approach or he will get more tainted than he already is. "If you don't want your brother to be hurt, you will tell us what we want to know. Won't you, Fuuta della Stella?"

Again, Fuuta shakes his head. It is the… seventh, or eighth time, every time the same: he will shake his head and Mukuro will ask again, and Fuuta will refuse again, and Mukuro will ask again. Again, and again, and again.

Except there is something different, this time. A new person, who Tsuna can barely see past his hazy sight. Black hair, maybe; a hat, maybe; Kokuyo uniform, maybe. A thin, shining needle in his hand, and Tsuna remembers it from back when they were kidnapped (run, you two, ru- before blood dripped down her throat, a shiny pointy end piercing her skin red red). The boy, with the poisons, that boy.

"Disappointing," the boy says and he lifts his hand, with the needle, with the poisons, and a second later Tsuna stops struggling. The pain, white hot searing pain, from his leg, he can't feel anything but pain and it is making him slowly fade away. "It would be your best interest to speak."

He can't see Fuuta anymore, but Tsuna knows he is doubting. Giving up. Tsuna is, too, but if they give up then what will happen? What will happen to them? The pain is so great, from his leg and up his gut, his lungs, his heart, and he can feel them dropping all function like they do when his pacifier is too, too far because he is going to die, like this?

No, he can't die, the causal loop won't allow that. Fuuta knows that, as well, but then what happens if he really dies? Will the causal loop be broken- can it be broken? Who is that screaming? It is a terrible scream, desperate, high pitched, like someone being tortu- it is him.

It is Tsuna.

He doesn't really remember what he sounds like, screaming. At least, not like this. This is not- it barely sounds human, and he can't feel his lungs, so it is impossible it is him? Except the bright, midday sun boy is covering his mouth with his other hand, his heart beating at a rate too fast to be human (like a little bunny, it is cute), and it goes silent in time for Tsuna to hear Fuuta:

"...-O IT, JUST HEAL HIM!"

His voice sounds hoarse. Maybe he has been screaming for a while, too, and Tsuna sobs in relief when he feels something go past his mouth and down his throat, cold, so cold, which immediately starts easing the pain. If anything, he is amazed at the skills of their poison master, from somewhere far and disconnected from his body (so, technically Daemon). He still can't see, and still can't really move, so he slumps in the bright boy's hold waiting for whatever is going to happen.

He feels the field go up, along with his hair, his clothes and probably the people's as well. He is already off ground, so he doesn't float, but the animalistic boy does, letting out a woa! of amazement as he brings Tsuna closer to his chest. Good, comfortable; the claw is still threatening to behead him, but he isn't dying of poison or being held dangerously by his throat.

"Ranking for the Strongest of Namimori Middle High School," Fuuta starts, probably also somewhere far away. "Number one, Hibari Kyouya-," and there was no doubt there, seeing who it is, so it is okay; there is a shuffling of papers and Mukuro -Kaiji- hm's along to whatever the needle boy said. "Number two, Yamamoto Takeshi-," which was also expected, considering who he is, and Tsuna shudders and closes his eyes tightly. For some reason, the sunny boy tightens his hold on him, and while he is not pleased, he is thankful.

"Third place, Sawada Hidetada-," there it is, his confirmation which makes his eyes snap open -the world is still a hazy, hazy mess of yellow and blueblueblue and all Tsuna can do is feel his heart halt at the lack of orange (where are they?). "Fourth place, Gokudera Hayato-," which doesn't matter, because Tsuna's heart is skipping beats and his eyes are tearing up; he can't feel Hide or even his own pacifier for some reason, and his connection with Daemon has almost completely rotted away. He is drowning, drowning in something else, something stronger that he doesn't know or understand.

"Fifth place, Kusakabe Tetsuya-," doesn't matter, he isn't even listening right now even if the sunny boy and the poison master are so attentive, he has to get out of this mist that isn't Daemon, that isn't him, that isn't what he know. His breath hitches in one final attempt to get free from the boy, who is still holding him awfully close, but a shudder runs through his neck and back. He looks up, weakly (there is still a claw against his neck, he is still in danger, and he is still drowning); Mukuro is looking straight at him, at him and he cries out; his red eye is like Daemon's, like a void of mist chaos blood destruction Hell Hell Hell-

"Sixth place, Sasagawa Ryohei-," yet the voice comes from far away, Fuuta's voice faded in the distance.

He has to look through the mist for his life support charm in his bag, reacting to his distress, and without worrying for consequences (this is your last resource and your last line of defense), he locks his mind away. All fight leaves his body as something slips into him, his thoughts, wrapping around and clouding his self and what identifies as Tsuna. He wants to scream. Maybe he is screaming again.

"Seventh place, Mochi-"

He doesn't know. He doesn't care. He isn't him anymore.

The world goes dark.

003

Joker

"Hell Wanderer, Rokudo Mukuro."

His eyes open into a familiar landscape -or mindscape, as it is more appropriate. He has seen this before, somewhere, but for all his memories he can't remember where. Sometime long past, in an ancient time, when he was… someone, someone who was betrayed deeply, killed and left with a void that could only be filled with remorse. What was their name? No, he can't remember, he can't ever remember.

A stone slab stands in the middle of a fountain, surrounded by four figures. Or well, he can see four, but he can feel more. Way more. Some far away, but not too far; some close enough to touch. He can't make heads or tails of their presences, but they are there, quite present; one stands close to him, shivering, and all his dreamself wants to do is reach for it and comfort it but no, no, he can't do that, not now.

His body moves on its own.

In his finger, he sees a black ring: a round obsidian that seems to absorb all light around it. On his other hand, his fingers hold a round something, glowing in indigo. He can't focus his eyes on it. He tries, but he can't. Round, indigo, alternating between washed out and too dark. Cracks, maybe it will break, but he can't focus his eyes on it. It is just in his hand, comfortable like it belong there, like it had been there for ages.

"Oya, oya," his voice says as his body sits on its own volition next to the figure with green glowing nails (its fingers spark with electricity which crackles and caresses his side like an old friend, old in somewhere else and old in here, he doesn't understand. It reeks of sweet). "For us to be called so suddenly, I am curious as to what you may want, my dear-"

He voices a name, but he cannot hear it. It is garbled and distorted, like something coming out of a terrible radio station. Everyone else seems to understand, for the figure with the orange eye (just one, he notices. It has one eye) shifts, letting its cloak further shadow its face. Regal, small. A child ruler.

"Do not speak my name so easily, if you will. You never know who may be listening."

The speech is refined, delicate: like an aristocrat. There is a cane lying on what he guesses are its legs, a great stone in one end and carved from head to tip, where it is thin enough it looks like it will break at a touch. Its hands rest on the cane, pale and full of scars, fingers long and calloused. An assortment of rings decorate its fingers; he recognizes the black one as the same he wears.

"But," the distortion for the name is still there, it seems. The one who speaks is the one with stars for its eyes (bright, glowing, impossible to look at. He tries, fails and sees everyone else also evading this one's gaze). "You did call us quite suddenly. Did something happen?"

"The Vongola," he hears, this time from the particularly quiet figure with the violet hat, "have decided to take drastic measures."

And even if he wanted to watch more, he can't. The round item falls from his hand and for a split second it glows and cracks, and then he falls back.

He is falling.

"Mukuro-sama," Chikusa is in front of him, his hand held warily above his shoulder. It is the loudest and most troubled he has heard him be, and even then, not really. Chikusa never leaves his constant monotone, not even when he is panicking and disappears for days.

He is lying on the floor, he realizes. How disgraceful, for him to be on the floor. He feels drained, tired, his mind a little scrambled from what he was doing. What was he- oh. Tsunayoshi, the boy they had taken along with Ranking Fuuta. Clearly more than just a child, it would seem, if the energy it took to break into his mind was telling.

It had been an adventure. It wasn't only guarded, it was literally barricaded. He had been attacked from all sides when he had broken in, with all kind of stimuli he doesn't believe a child is able to conjure on his own. A sea of hatred, arrows of despair; and then, he was surrounded by black. Only black, like the night, where there was nothing except his own thoughts and a door that didn't seem to lead anywhere.

And then he had stepped into a vision (he refuses to call it a mere dream), of whatever kind it was. Well, he will have the boy in his hands for a while, he can investigate in due time. First, their mission is Vongola Decimo. If Tsunayoshi is useful later, then he can use him later.

Mukuro sits up, Chikusa helping him by holding onto his back. He wants to wave him away, but he feels unusually weak. So, he lets his minion have his peace by allowing him to support him. While straightening his thoughts from the twisted lines they are right now, he takes a quick sweep around the room.

Ranking Fuuta is asleep, curled up atop his book. He is troubled, even in his sleep, his nose scrunching up and hands twitching besides the book. There is a small paper next to him where he recorded his ranking (Fuuta's backup original and Chikusa's copy will be more than enough. He doesn't need to get past the troublesome lock in the book now) and his pen (with little golden stars and silver moons) has rolled away in his sleep.

He doesn't need Ranking Fuuta anymore, but for some reason he can't stand the thought of letting him leave. Tsunayoshi will cooperate more if he keeps them both in one room, but the extra expenses are so much... Thank the Hells Kokuyo is cheap, he doesn't want to spend much in another mouth to feed. He will have to ask Chikusa to re-do their budget for the next weeks, he doesn't want to think right now.

M.M. has Chikusa's notebook, going through what he guesses is the ranking with a highlighter. He hates the things, they are too bright for his eye, but he will allow it for now; she wasn't here before, so he guesses she got here after he passed out (how embarrassing). Her skirt is riding unusually high from where she is kicking at Tsunayoshi's bag. Speaking of the bag, the contents have spilled: a book wrapped in mist and an orange stone. He will go through that later (he is curious), note that up.

He adds it to his mental checklist, and continues on.

Lancia is kneeling next to a passed-out Tsunayoshi, checking on him. It has been days, and though Ken's threatening didn't hurt him too much, it took Chikusa coming out from hiding to get the boys to break. He hopes the poison and trauma will not leave lasting effects, children are still children, and really, it was only for a few seconds. Like half a minute? The Strongest Man in Northern Italy's hands are brushing past the boy's hair, feeling for a fever, pressing weakly against his chest. It is a funny sight, with Lancia being huge and Tsunayoshi being the smallest nine? ten? years old Mukuro has ever seen (and they were pretty small); Mukuro wants to laugh, but then he notices Tsunayoshi's arm.

Ken has bandaged Tsuna's arm, it would seem. He is very silent, completely focused, with bandages around him and a small pot of burn ointment by his hand. They keep the thing around because M.M. likes playing with fire, but they haven't gotten any serious burns since... years ago. Ken is currently applying the ointment to the boy's small hand, where he can see the trace of faint burns. Poison doesn't burn and neither does the antidote, and Ken doesn't do fire as much as claw things out of people without care, so what happened?

He must have asked it out loud, because Ken looks up at him with eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights, and even Lancia looks up from his task for half a second before going back to throwing blanket after blanket on both Tsunayoshi and Fuuta's small forms. M.M. snorts, since she always thought their wired immediate response was ridiculous, but then Chikusa is reaching to hold his hand.

"His hand suddenly burst into flames," Chikusa says, quietly, tracing a line from Mukuro's thumb to his wrist, and up his arm. Mukuro quickly looks away from Tsunayoshi and at his oldest minion, questioning, already wanting to take back his hand, but he can't do that because then Chikusa will go into hiding again. "Out of nowhere. He passed out two, three seconds later -as did you, Mukuro-sama-, but the damage was already done."

Mukuro hums to himself, rubbing his fingers when Chikusa releases his hand and goes to whatever spot he was using to observe today. So it was probably a reaction to the intrusion, not just spontaneous, which is... disappointing. But also intriguing, because that means Tsunayoshi realized he was breaking into his mind and that means he can be an useful pawn.

Well, everyone and everything seems to be okay for now. Ken is done, so he asks (orders) him to go get them dinner, not mice and not dead wild animals, please. When he is gone and M.M. has disappeared somewhere else, Mukuro drops next to Lancia and pulls his two hostages closer to himself.

"I'm napping for a while," he says. Then, as an afterthought, he points at Tsunayoshi's bag. "Bring that closer and nap with us."

The mist-covered book is dropped on Fuuta's ranking book, and the orange stone (pacifier, he realizes with glee and something like familiarity and nostalgia in the back of his mind, it is a pacifier) is shoved into Tsunayoshi's hands. Lancia sits at their heads, already drifting away, and Mukuro lets himself have a small moment of peace (really small) knowing Chikusa is watching from somewhere and, soon, he will have Vongola Decimo in his hands.

And then, he can begin destroying everything that destroyed them first.

mist interlude

disease

It has been almost a year and he has figured out some things. Or rather, had them shoved into his face and forced to accept them without a chance to protest or even deny the situation that was simply so illogical even in the Mafia world, he has come to accept them as facts. So, he says he has figured them out, because it makes him sound like he is in control of the situation -which he is not.

Namimori is a weird shit city and it should vanish into the depths of Hell itself. That's what he has figured out, pretty much; everything he has come to learn about Namimori can be summed up in that sentence. And then some.

Oh, he isn't worried about the disappearances, or the apparent inherent forgetfulness of everyone in town. Even the subtle, constant illusion attacks to his psyche that keeps trying to throw him off track has been accepted, pretty well. He is a Mist user; he can protect his own mind, thank you, which doesn't mean he considers them acceptable practices, no. Whoever is acting behind the scenes is scum of society, all the way down there with the Vindice, and Shamal has already promised himself that if he ever meets the man, he will shout a few words at his face.

He will probably die, too, but he will die with no regrets if he can insult the douchebagin the face. Maybe he will have some regrets if he dies without meeting his Madonna, though, but that... he has given up on that, sort of.

While he isn't very worried about the clusterfuck of disastrous events that is Namimori, he is pretty worried about something else. And so is Bianchi, which makes Shamal doubly worried; he will triple his worry when Reborn starts worrying, as well, but for now he can doubly worry about it on his own. The thing is, he doesn't think Reborn would ever notice, because Reborn is an Arcobaleno and thus his flames cannot go out of control or simply weaken without reason at all.

He had thought it was an illness, at first. He had done some tests on himself, but there was nothing physically wrong with him besides the usual (no disease 667, though he doesn't doubt it can show up someday), which at first had been unconceivable. He couldn't control his Flames, his own life force, as well as he usually did, that must mean there is some physical ailment, right?

There was none, and Shamal had had to learn to adapt. His mosquitoes flew weird, but it was the same as always past that. It had been like that first time he had contracted Hyperfiamma, until it was not.

He can deal with uncontrolled flames. What he can't deal with is losing Flames, which is something he had never even heard could happen asides from Hypofiamma, but then that was a sudden fast drop in energy that came back after a few days (if you were alive, that is). Yet it was, it was happening without anything prompting it, and after a few months the energy drop had been too much to keep it casually hidden from Reborn. It was small but steady loss, like a water container that loses a single drop every hour: you don't notice it at all until, years later, the loss is so great you start asking yourself, where did it go?

So, where were the Flames going?

He is musing on this when he suddenly finds himself holding on to a girl's wrist, keeping her from falling. She looks all distraught and darling, and Shamal smiles.

"My apologies, young one, I wasn't looking where I was going," he says, helping the girl up before reaching down to pick up the things she dropped. Dangerous chemicals, more dangerous chemicals, and a dark bottle with something moving inside. He piles the chemicals bottles back on the basket, ignoring her protests. "You should be more careful with these."

"I'm usually not so clumsy," she says, taking back the basket and the small bottle in her hands, twisting it in her fingers. Then she looks up at him and her eyes widen. "Ah, you are our school doctor, Shamal-sensei. Thank you very much."

"It is nothing to thank me for." He decided he will not worry about what the people of Namimori get up to when no one watches. If the girl wants to play with acids, then let her; besides, he remembers Hayato complaining about how his school club was basically all explosions. "You are a member of the chemistry club?"

"I am." She nods and, after a few seconds of looking troubled and thoughtful, lifts up the dark bottle for Shamal to take. So, he does, though he doesn't know what could be useful about the bottle. "I will give you this since you look sick, please don't mention my basket?"

Shamal nods. "Don't worry, I will not mention your ammonia and formaldehyde, or thallium, or your hydrofluor-"

"AAH!"

He grins at her frantic looking around. She is adorable, even if she is carrying highly toxic and corrosive chemicals all close to each other in a closed space. Like a squirrel, maybe, or an otter: small, picky and fickle about things except one single objective.

She is adorable, but not pretty, no; more like a rough beauty, all sharp lines and practical ease that Shamal always sees in fighter women. He doubts anyone in Namimori could truly develop the kind of delicate prettiness that people believe to be traditional beauty, since everyone in Namimori is either constantly on guard of everything or constantly ignoring everything there is to be on guard about.

"Takemi!"

She yelps and brings her basket closer to her, and then looks up at Shamal again. "Sorry, sensei. It is a secret, okay?"

She is gone before he has time to nod and he feels so confused by the whole thing, he doesn't care that a middle school girl just asked him to keep a life-changing (for him) secret for her. So maybe some of those chemicals were a little more dangerous than he should have allowed a fifteen years old to get away with, but well, he did sort of raise Hayato.

Well, she is in the chemistry club, he can drop by and ask her what's up if he ever feels like it. Not that he will, but maybe one day?

Shamal dares not continue his stroll, today. One life-changing event a day is all he needs and can deal with, anyways, so he turns around to head back to his apartment. Maybe Reborn will be there with real food, but he doubts it, so he prepares himself to another night of instant noodles and cold soup, and maybe a drink or two. Who knows, maybe he will have a sudden epiphany as to where the flames are going.

Not letting his thoughts trouble him, he opens the tinted glass bottle and drops whatever it is holding on his palm. A small black stone looks back at him, shining dark blue when the light hits it. And then lighter. And lighter blue, until he is left staring at a clearly indigo-colored pebble.

Well, then.

It is time to do some research.

004

24-20

Shit.

Five faceless members of- no, three trained members of the DC, one almost-civilian and a trained martial artist, taken out through the night by what. A mysterious dog and a sniper? Who would believe that, there is no way that is believable. Not even in Namimori, town of the weird and the weirder, where weird things sprout like wildflowers under the rain.

Beaten up bodies also sprout like wildflowers, but not five in a single night, and not in plain sight either. This looks like a sudden assault, but it was too methodical for that, like it was pre-planned and whoever did it had walked the route of the DC patrols enough times to know what to encounter. Also, it was done in less than an hour, which is a feat on and by itself; lightning fast, from one corner of town to the other, leaving the children not only unconscious, but in a bad enough condition they will not get up easily in a few weeks.

"Tsuyoshi~ What is this in my hand?"

Natsumi holds up her hand from where she is kneeling next to the badly beaten almost-civilian boy (had the DC member been defending him?). Her dog pack is looking around the area for clues, so Tsuyoshi has resigned himself to being her guide for the moment, which doesn't mean he likes it. Shiraishi Natsumi is as crazy as everyone else in this city, but at least she doesn't pretend.

Tsuyoshi sighs. Peaceful and normal. Peaceful and normal. Nothing wrong here. Unbreakable number four repeats in his head like a mantra for a short few seconds, until he feels his sense of reality come back. Only then can he look at Natsumi's hand, where there is a little, white and bloody bone that he doesn't know how is she not disgusted by. Probably because she can't see it.

"That's a tooth." And not only one, too. He is counting at least more than twenty, way more than twenty. He doubts prosthesis alone will be able to put these children's teeth back together, but well, they can try? "Don't touch it, it is evidence."

"Right, Fuyuka will get mad," she says, and just drops the tooth like it wasn't evidence of two children being almost murdered in broad daylight. Tsuyoshi wants to scream, but then repeats unbreakable number four to himself once again and helps the blind woman up. "It really smells like wild animal, though. Wild, but well cared for."

"I'm sure we will figure out something."

Naito Longchamp appears at Takesushi past ten in the evening, pale and trembling. He is alone, which is the only reason why Takeshi lets him inside (things are dangerous past certain hours in Namimori, which is why noise curfew is always active) so late at night. Longchamp is lucky that Hide is still awake and thus didn't get woken up by the knocking, because if he had then Takeshi would have killed him.

Gokudera is also crashing in his house tonight, so maybe they can have a party? Haha, yeah, as if, noise curfew. Instead, he leads Longchamp in and sits him in front of Hide, besides Gokudera, while Takeshi himself sits at the counter.

"Lunga was attacked."

The declaration is quiet, yet in the impossible silence of the room it is loud like a gunshot. Hide jerks back in silence and Gokudera swears to himself, but Longchamp just... sits there, looking on blankly at the wall like it is the only thing that matters. Maybe it is, maybe he is just too lost in thought to look somewhere else.

"Is it serious?" Takeshi asks, since you know, when someone gets attacked you have to ask two things: are they okay, and if there are any leads. Not that leads lead anywhere in this town, but his father always said it was best to know where your enemies hide (before claiming loudly that there is no such thing as enemies in Namimori, because everything is peaceful).

Longchamp shakes his head. "He is in the hospital, with... four, other people who also go- got attacked."

"Five people in a single night is a little too much," says Gokudera, leaning back on the chair and covering his face with one of the papers on the table. "Do you think it could be the mafia?"

"Well, Lunga is quite disliked by our enemies." The other future mafia boss, that is not Hide, leans his head on the table and just... lays there. Looking like a corpse, or something, disheartened and quite tired. Hide pats his shoulder. "But no one knows we are in Namimori."

"Then, maybe-"

The door opens again, letting Takeshi's father in and interrupting Hide (who looks really glad he got interrupted). Tsuyoshi looks weary, and he slams a bottle of some clear liquid on a table before looking at them with a weak smile.

"Hi son, hello children."

There are a few minutes of terrible silence where everyone looks at one another like they hold the secrets of the universe or like they did the worst doable thing in the world, and Takeshi sighs. This game is starting to get boring like this and he doesn't like it -or rather, he never liked it, but since he is being forced to play he will win, because he always wins. So, he slaps on his best winner smile and faces his father, who pretends to not be looking at anything in particular. Fun.

"Hey dad, do you know anything about any attacks?"

"No, I don-" And then Tsuyoshi jumps when something seems to crawl up his back. "Go away, you-"

"Three members of the Disciplinary Committee, ranging from second to third year, one second year from the Judo club, and one third year member of the Light Music club," says a chirpy voice from behind him, and suddenly they are all staring at Reborn, sitting on Takeshi's father's head like he belongs there and reading off a note pad with a miniature microphone in his hand, "were attacked today, around 8 to 9 PM. The attacks took place all around Namimori, making the investigators believe them to be the work of multiple perpetrators, but the similar wounds in each of the bodies indicate other-"

Reborn jumps away to their table when Tsuyoshi tries to catch him, and then he is going on a merry escape around the room when Tsuyoshi throws knife after knife at him. Gokudera yells and grabs both Hide and Longchamp, pulling them under the table, and it is adorable how they all seem to cower in fear at the sight of a grown man throwing knives at a baby.

Takeshi thinks this is all merry and fun, until there don't seem to be more knives hidden in his father's clothes anymore. He can't let this happen, because Yamamotos always win, so he leans back to grab the fillet knife from the counter and throws it at his father.

"Stop doing that!" Hide's desperate voice comes from under the table, and Takeshi laughs.

"-but the similar, almost exact copies of the wounds in each of the victims bodies seem to indicate-" Reborn continues his reading, now dodging the knife that Tsuyoshi's expert sword hand is wielding. "-that there is, indeed, only one perpetrator, or accomplices-!" He jumps back and shoots a quick bullet at Tsuyoshi's feet. "The wounds present on the victims' bodies at the time of autopsy-"

"They aren't dead!" Slash, upwards slash, retrieve a knife from the floor and rethrow it quickly.

"-they would be better off- THE WOUNDS present on the victims bodies' were various, most of them slash marks believed to be made by a midsized wolf's claws-" The baby steps on the knife's blade, making Tsuyoshi yell in confusion and reach for him with his free hand. Unfortunately, Reborn jumps, and Tsuyoshi falls, and Reborn stands triumphant on his head.

Damn.

"Where was I- Right, midsized wolf's claws or a great mountain cat, as well as a single needle puncture-"

"AUGH SHUT UP!"

"And MISSING TEETH-"

Tsuyoshi leaps up again to catch Reborn, but the damage is already done. Takeshi looks at Hide, who is looking at Reborn like he just gave him the best gift in the world, which he guesses is true. And Reborn, Reborn smirks from his spot, being almost choked by Takeshi's father in the single most adorable chokehold of the world.

They have a lead, and this time enemies do exist.

005

Kokuyo

"Yo, old man!"

Ken slams the wrapped fish on the counter and holds up a rabbit for the old man to see. He is grinning; today was a good hunt and they are also getting food, so whatever! Everything is awesome, and they are down five in their list.

"Hello, child. It is a little late to be hunting," the man says, already prodding the fish's eyes with a finger. He is old, but not too old -probably about Birds' age, which isn't all that much all things considered. Birds looks really old, though. "This looks good enough, what would you like?"

"Noodles!"

Ken leaves the store with a bag holding noodles, some plain, lukewarm rice and a bar of chocolate. He grins even wider, this is such a good day, what the heck! Everyday in Kokuyo is great and all that, but today is especially awesome because they are eating noodles, which Lancia will cook, because he is cool like that. Honestly, this is so good right now, nothing could ruin his day.

...except that. Maybe.

He dodges the rotting dog's charge and waves to the 'fake policeman' that is walking the dog (what? Zombie dog? What?). He has to cover his nose when he walks past them both, but the smell is not so bad as to completely ruin his day. He remembers not to stare, since it is rude as fuck, and twirls in the spot to block an incoming attack from behind him.

"Good evening, wildling!"

The child (the other child, the one that attacked him from behind) does a backflip in the air to land a few feet away, their mask still in place like always. They lift an envelope between two fingers, and Ken has to wonder what Chikusa offered the kid for the information. Rule one of Kokuyo, always pay back on time (and the proper amount, as M.M. figured out when she tried to trade a cheap hat for a hand-made bonnet). The kid is dressed in the standard Kokuyo uniform, but since they look barely out of Elementary school, Ken seriously doubts they are wearing it legally.

"Where is your companion?"

"Around, probably," he responds, looking around for anywhere Chikusa could be hiding. Hopefully around, since he doesn't want to deal with the annoying informant, but since it is Chikusa... "You want to talk to him?"

"...I'll hunt for him," the kid says, vanishing again into the wherever-the-hell they come from, and Ken stares a little. That's creepy, but the children apparently know every way in, out and across this little town, so he guesses that's fine?

Well, no matter. He has to get the noodles to Lancia.

He doesn't meet anyone else in the way to the road, thankfully. People in Kokuyo, while helpful and unusually happy, are nosy as fuck. Like, impossible levels of nosy, unlike people at Namimori who seem to cower in fear if you so much as look at their direction.

When they arrived, the first thing the people did was ask where their parents were and if they needed somewhere to stay, which was weird. Mukuro had admitted then (through Lancia) they were runaways, which had opened a whole load of possibilities for them in the town. Parentless children were loved in Kokuyo, since apparently they were constantly low on staff for everything and always needed someone to run errands around the city. Errands as in information gathering, deliveries of questionable origin, fish or hunt around for tomorrow's lunch or simply help at the local tasks.

It isn't just parentless children, too. Just, children in general, and they were everywhere with their tiny masks and acting like a stray pack that knows they will get food if they linger around but if not they will just leave. Even the ones who have families are like that, though apparently it didn't matter, because Kokuyo was like a single family where everyone took care of each other and it was ridiculously cute and idealistic and Ken would have thought it fake if it didn't work.

It works too well, even. It works so well that he knows, if he brings in a few birds tomorrow morning, there will be bread waiting for him; that if Mukuro and Lancia spend a little longer looking for wild herbs, they can trade them in for juice or milk; that if Chikusa remembers conversations or who-met-whom's, those can be traded in for pics of the twenty-four strongest of Namimori Middle. It is weird as hell, but it is also really comfortable because one, they don't need to work or go out of the island (it was bad enough getting in as it was) and two, people don't ask them questions because they are children and pure as snow.

Except Birds. And the remaining twin. Lancia gets problems with people at times, as well, but since Lancia doesn't show up in public at all it doesn't matter. Really, M.M., Chikusa and Ken himself are the only ones who do anything around Kokuyo, because Mukuro still has to manage his minions. Birds was on spy duty and the twin... well, it had wanted to go hunt the list with them, but they want them injured, not killed.

Conclusion: it's so fucking easy to live in Kokuyo, Ken loves it. Yeah, they have money stored away, but this here is no emergency; even Mukuro agrees that, as much as adults and humanity are cursed beings who deserve nothing more than death, the people in Kokuyo are pretty useful. Even if they are being pushed into enrolling school, because pure children need their education and what not. The only wrong thing: the undead police officers that looked pretty normal until you looked at them in the eye, but you learn to ignore things like that (ignore them, and they will ignore you! It is rude to stare).

"Noodles!" He yells into the building (Kokuyo Health Land, or whatever), making his way up the only path available into their only two usable rooms (one for them, one for the hostages). He finds everyone around an already burning portable stove, because they are tired of snacks and carbonated drinks after a few days of only eating those and they are celebrating today. Five down, nineteen to go. "I am amazing and I have brought noodles!"

Chikusa arrives a few minutes later, envelope in hand and looking like he wants nothing more than to go sleep. Or hide away into a small niche in the wall, that works too.

"I was attacked by flying fish."

...yeah. Kokuyo is pretty easy to live in, but it is also really fucking weird.

"How, exactly, does one get attacked by flying fish." Birds deadpans from where he is feeding his birds tiny seeds and worms. Ew.

"Wasn't it legged fish the other day?" M.M. throws in, covering her mouth with her hand probably to hide her laugh. "Don't your fish even sleep?"

"I'll catch one so we can see, maybe they are sharks."

"Oh, please do, I do wish to see your hallucinative fish species, kappa."

When it looks like Chikusa will throw a needle at M.M. with a full dose in it, Ken throws the noodles at Lancia (who keeps quiet whenever they fight, because he is Lancia) and pulls Chikusa by the neck to the couch. Mukuro, who is pretend-sleeping, makes a sound that Ken understands as 'not a sound or I'll kill you', so Ken drops Chikusa by his feet and then proceeds to run away.

"Good evening kids, I have brought dinner," he calls into the other, smaller room. The room is small, but decorated by M.M., so it looks even smaller than it should especially when its only inhabitants are a pair of grade schoolers and two giant books. "Today you are having rice."

The boy informant, Fuuta, who doesn't act like an informant at all (informants are either sleazy or Chikusa, and the boy is neither; he is all cheer and smiles, or was), looks up from his spot sitting by the other boy, Tsunayoshi (who feels like Mukuro, smells like Mukuro and age, and at times even speaks like Mukuro. It isn't even funny), who is... probably sleeping. Like he usually does. Both of them are wearing mini-Kokuyo uniforms that Chikusa somehow managed to snatch from someplace, because their clothes are dirty from days of use, of course. They look cute, really, but also like one pair of murderous children Ken once met in prison: cold eyes, stiff stances and twitchy hands; like they are expecting to be on the run at any time.

"Hello, Ken-san," the boy greets with a frozen smile. Well, at least he acts well. "Thank you for the meal, but my brother is-"

"Awake," calls the other boy, and Ken jumps back. He hadn't even heard the boy move, or his breathing change, or anything. Like a stone, or like Mukuro, except instead of a gentle, constantly amused voice, his tone was all Chikusa and emptiness. "I am up, Fuuta."

Ken goes in to give them their cold rice dinner, since they rarely move from their spots (unless Mukuro wants a nap, then Mukuro will bring them in to cuddle for some reason -really, cuddling Mukuro, that's like the worst idea), and sits down besides them while they eat at snail's pace. Their water bottles are refilled, probably from lunchtime still because they don't bother to eat or drink unless the other is awake and since they take turns, they rarely catch them in time to force them to drink something. The self-destructive behavior is something both Ken and Chikusa have seen before (three guesses where and the first two don't count), so they had taken to being really observant of both kids so they wouldn't die on their watch.

That would be too much. Hurting children is banned, prohibited and to be judged under Mukuro law, unless it is really really necessary. Which is why none of them really care much that the other twin vanished, since both of them were useful tools, but also indiscriminate murderers that didn't care about anything. That is also the reason why Mukuro only half-trusts one adult in his life, and his name is Lancia.

"May I ask what day it is?" Tsunayoshi asks, only half looking at Ken like he doesn't really care. Which, he probably doesn't.

"It has been a week," Ken answers. Dates are a vague construct they didn't keep up with when on the run, so they settled to keeping track of days after each important landmark (rivers, villages, packs of edible wild animals) or events -in this case, when they kidnapped the kids. "Not that it matters, since you're coming with us when we are done here."

Not that Ken wants to leave, but they are on a mission. And Mukuro has taken a liking to the two brats, so it isn't up for question: when they have to leave, they are taking the kids.

record interlude

10yB-log0001

"Hello, camera, and probably Verde who is the only person who would ever bother to watch these! This is Lambo Bovino, seven years old; my favorite candy is grapes and I love playing with heavy artillery, like this one here, see? The date is July the fourteenth, 2011 and this is the first progress record for the amazing Lambo's personal project since Verde doesn't want us running around the lab without something to do, which is a pity because Lambo can help, I really can! Verde is no different from the meanie Reborn and I- I can-"

"Brat."

"R-Right! Reborn is a meanie and everyone has been really bad to Lambo-san lately, so I have to keep myself busy- but I don't want to, Lambo just wants to go back home! Boo, stupid Namimori being too dangerous, we are a hitman, the best hitman, nothing is too dangerous for Lambo-san! Stupid Hide-nii and Reborn and everyone else who thinks I can't take care of myself, I have done so for years! But back to the project, Lambo-san- my project consists on a replica of our ever favorite childhood toy, the ten years bazooka! You know, purple bazooka, pink smoke, pretty cool but I'm not supposed to have brought it with me, shush! Since it is a pretty weird piece of shit-"

"Lambo."

"Hgh- since it is a pretty weird and awesome piece of really advanced technology we got when I was a baby, I don't actually know much about it. Or about how it works, but no one knows how it works except Verde who isn't telling me anything, why is everything like this!? How is Lambo supposed to create a time travelling machine without any idea how to start-"

"That's up to you."

"You're right, Lambo-san is awesome and great and I can totally do this! Just watch, you stupid idiots, Lambo will prove we are the best! So just ignore us, we will show you we can do this and that it will be easy as fuck- ow, that hurts, why!? You-"

"No weapons in the lab."

"Hgh... I will... tolerate..."

...

"You left the camera on, kid."

"Right, I did. It was on purpose, ok."

NOTE: We begin Kokuyo with dead people, we are off to a great start! This was going to be the chess reference chapter, but then I was like 'nah', so in the end it was just like 'whatever names whatever' like always. On that topic, Cŵn Annwn are the hounds from the underworld.

You know, the Kokuyo assault was like, two days? Well, they can't really do it in two days nw because Namimori is fuuuu. So they are moving slowly... like this fic... slow...

Who is my main character anymore I don't even know. Since Mukuro and co. aren't on the run anymore, we get to see what the Arcobabies are doing. Or rather, what Verde and Skull are researching on the sidelines. Also, Lambo's speech pattern is a mess and Verde's idea of teaching a kid is throwing them straight to deep water and see if they will swim.

I will be gone for next week, so no updates then. Yes, you get to be confused for a whole of TWO weeks, amazing.