A/N: Part two of the double upload!
Last Known Surroundings
ボンゴレの心
Boyudo
Mukuro stumbled to a halt as he was met by a searing sunlight. Placing his hand in front of his eyes, Mukuro squinted at his surroundings, Hitoshi entering behind him.
"By Toutatis..." Hitoshi gasped, his knees almost giving out beneath him. Beyond the spiked pillars outside the gate, the entire landscape before them was littered with the rotting corpses of the dead. Survivors were still fighting eachother, not caring whether they stepped on dead comrade or foe. Mountains lined the horizon, their jagged peaks splitting the crimson light of the sun.
Mukuro glanced back at Hitoshi as the green-haired teen doubled over, despite his best efforts, vomiting at the sight before him. Mukuro's eyes followed a silhouette coming over the horizon, and his eyes widened as he noticed the silhouette had huge wings, so large that they blocked the sun from view momentarily. The large winged beast swooped down briefly, lifting up two of the survivors fighting on the ground and throwing them again. Mukuro threw Hitoshi to the side in panic as one of the bodies flew straight towards them, becoming impaled on the spiked pillar behind them.
"Hitoshi-shishou..." Mukuro whispered, his body remaining perfectly still as the winged beast crashed to a landing amongst the corpses. Mukuro winced at the sound of crunching bones. Getting a good look at the beast, Mukuro's jaw dropped in disbelief, "Is that a... a d-dragon?"
Hitoshi didn't answer, his body frozen in fear.
"How are we going to get past that thing?" Mukuro hissed.
"We have to go back... This place, Mukuro-kun, this place..." Hitoshi mumbled, his expression blank. "There's no way we could have ever prepared for this."
"The illusions, Hitoshi-shishou!" Mukuro whispered. When the green-haired teen didn't respond, Mukuro dragged him to his feet, "Damn it, I'll lead!" grabbing Hitoshi arm, Mukuro simultaneously projected a cloaking illusion and dragged Hitoshi along with him. Mukuro's brows furrowed as he stepped on the piled up corpses, giving the dragon a wide berth. Mukuro turned to see Hitoshi's face still expressionless, his frown deepened as he continued to drag him towards the opening in the approaching valley formed by two relatively steep mountains. The dragon's nostrils flared and it began to sniff the air, breathing heavily through its fang lined mouth, its breath tinted blue.
Mukuro's mind flowed with curses and he increased his pace, but the dragon began to move in their general direction, still sniffing the air. Mukuro's curses began to flow aloud as the dragon opened its maw wide, sending a torrent of blue fire towards the pair. Mukuro's eyes widened as his illusion dissolved due to its attribute of tranquillity and he felt his body temperature drop. The Rain Flames were producing ice! Mukuro felt his movement slowing and his muscles weakening dramatically. Before he knew it, Mukuro was completely immobilised.
"Strong ones here..." A voice echoed, Mukuro adjusted his gaze to find the source of the voice and found it when the dragon lowered its body, revealing it was carrying a rider. The rider snarled at Mukuro as their eyes met, red and blue meeting feral yellow. The rider dismounted, revealing an extra set of arms.
"A-Asuran..." Hitoshi murmured, his voice echoing through Mukuro's mind..
"You seem paralysed more by fear than the Naga's Flames." the Asuran observed, smirking down at the two, as he approached them slowly, "The small one seems like he has been broken already. Newcomers, no doubt. You were fools to have come here. Your illusions however... Powerful Mist Flames, perhaps you would make for an interesting display... Yes, you two would make intriguing diversions for the arena." the Asuran grabbed the two men with his lower arms, lifting them to eye level. "My my... the Neutral Man. You've finally flown the nest. And you've brought a pet? Hmm... a pretty one. Heh, he can participate in the group fights. I'm sure it will be appreciated by the female audience. As for you, Neutral Man... Such a well known man, I'm sure it would be spectacle were you to fight the bandaged man. We really ought to give the bastard a better name..."
Hitoshi's eyes widened in horror, but the frozen Rain Flames prevented him from struggling. Mukuro grunted as he and Hitoshi were thrown roughly onto the back of the Naga, being winded roughly, but feeling the effects of the Rain Flames fade.
"Don't fall off, you trash." The Asuran said gruffly, before climbing onto the Naga's scaled back amd kicking its sides sharply, causing the Naga to extend its huge wings, kicking dust into the air. As the Naga slowly became airborne, Mukuro dug his nails into the back of the Naga, grasping onto Hitoshi as tightly as he could. Despite himself, Mukuro found himself marvelling at the barren Asuran landscape, its red sands amplified by the red light of its red Sun. Every now and again, Mukuro saw glints of light reflecting off the sand. Could it be... blood?
Mukuro's breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of what was probably the Asuran arena, bordered by huge moats. As they flew over the arena, Mukuro noticed to his horror that the moats were filled with corpses, at different stages of decomposition.
"I saw your eye, pretty boy." The Asuran grunted, "Naraka. Well, as I'm sure you noticed. This is the real hell. You're going to die here." He chuckled to himself, before spitting to his side and turning away once again, as he prepared to bring the Naga in to land outside the arena's entrance.
"Citi-Pati!" A voice called out, which Mukuro saw to be another Asuran, who helped the first Asuran, who Mukuro now knew to be called Citi-Pati, bring the Naga to a complete stop. "Back so soon? Did you bring anything good?"
"A good fucking find you won't believe, Sir Mahārājnī." Citi-Pati grinned, "The Neutral Man. He finally left his precious home and came here – here! Of all places. I was thinking we could pit him against the bandaged man."
"That would be a spectacle!" the Mahārājnī roared in agreement, "Pass him here! Now, who's the other one? Anyone special?"
"Some cock and balls... We could put him in the group battle today, perhaps?"
"You had better be quick then." the Mahārājnī grunted, hoisting Hitoshi over his shoulder, "It's starting any second now." Citi-Pati nodded in reply, grasping Mukuro's arm roughly and dragging him across the rough red sands.
"You body shy, pretty boy?" The Asuran smirked. At Mukuro's questioning gaze, Citi-Pati's smirk broke into a fit of laughter, "Either way, this should be hilarious." Mukuro's face burned red as the tall Asuran literally tore Mukuro's clothes from his back, leaving him bare in the hot Asuran sun. Citi-Pati shoved him into a jail cell, full of other prisoners who had suffered the same fate as he had. Mukuro gritted his teeth as some of the other captives gave him looks of pity, a few gave him hungry looks of either bloodlust or lust itself. The rest stared forward blankly. Those ones were likely already broken. Judging by the heavily malnourished and skeletal appearances of many of those who surrounded him, they had likely been working in the mines.
Mukuro tensed as Citi-Pati leaned against the bars of the cell, sneering at Mukuro wildly. "Who knows pretty boy, maybe a nice lady in the crowd will flash her tits at you! So long as you impress..." He laughed maniacally.
"It's Mukuro, you four-armed piece of shit." Mukuro snarled, glaring at the tall Asuran as hard as he could.
"That's it, bear your fangs." Citi-Pati grinned, "You're just nipping at the wrong target, mutt. I don't give an ounce of shit for your name. I'll call you whatever the fuck you want if you win."
"Win?" Mukuro's eyes narrowed.
"It's a group battle, every mutt for themselves." Citi-Pati explained, "If you're the last man standing, you'll be declared the winner. Maybe I'll place a bet... on someone else."
Mukuro's eyes widened, and he looked around at his soon-to-be opponents as Citi-Pati walked away, roaring with laughter. Some of the other prisoners looked strong, and their bloodlust had only increased, sensing the time of battle was fast approaching.
"The fuck are you looking at, pineapple?" One man growled, his face and body covered in various animalistic tattoos, and a rather painful looking piercing situated elsewhere, "If you want cock before you die, ask someone else." Mukuro simply glared in return.
"PRISONERS!" A voice yelled at them from behind a stone gate on the walled side of the cell, "The time to fight has arrived! The cell door will be opened, should any of you start fighting, you'll die more painfully than you can imagine, and worse than any fate you will meet in the arena! The fight will only begin when the King gives his signal, do you understand?"
Silence met his words, and Mukuro winced at his next, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"
A fearful and half-hearted reply of grunts and affirmative yells were heard in reply, after which the stone door opened slowly, causing orange light to bleed into the room. "Start moving, scum!" the voice called again, which was revealed to be a thickly muscled Asuran, wearing thick leather armour. The crowd of prisoners slowly began making its way towards the exit. Since Mukuro was near the back of the crowd, he was one the last to realise that they were entering the very sands of the arena itself.
"Well, consider this day both your last and lucky!" An Asuran roared, "You get to see the arena's latest rising star! Fighting the Neutral Man, no less! It may not last long, but I'm sure many here consider it well worth their coin to see a spectacle such as his blood being drained."
'Hitoshi-shishou...' Mukuro's face fell as he saw Hitoshi being led onto the sands, by two human guards. His bindings were released and a blade was forced into his hand, which held onto it limply. Mukuro began to panic, considering forcing his way through the crowd to help his friend, but he glanced up at the Asuran standing guard around them, all of which were wielding weapons and some had released their Flame, which had some of the weaker prisoners struggling to stay standing.
"The bandaged man came to us, born in the fires of war and bathed in blood!" A voice boomed across the arena, instantly silencing every spectator, guard and prisoner in the vicinity. The voice demanded respect and had a strong air of arrogance around it, but it seemed like it was comprised of multiple pitches and tones, which resounded in unison. Mukuro guessed it to be someone of power, political, or more likely combative. Perhaps the king. "And it saddens me, the Maha-Rājān, that such a prestigious warrior, and friend, bears no title. No name! It is a slight upon his honour. One I would see amended! Let us call you by pseudo titles no more, Champion of the Red Sands! Your new name shall be Jagat-Natha-s! Lord of the world! For truly, has there ever been a human more powerful? He is below but a handful of us." Mukuro looked up into the stands to find the source of the voice. It was an Asuran, unsurprisingly. But Mukuro was surprised to see just how tall and powerful-looking the Asuran was, he looked incredibly strong. Even more horrifically so, the Asuran had three faces, all of which were twisted into a ugly sneer. Mukuro could tell, the Asuran was insulting the bandaged man with as much subtlety as possible. "Fair audience and sponsors, today we bring you a spectacle. The chick has finally flown its nest. The Pretan, Hitoshi. You know him, however, as the Neutral Man! Watch as our Champion ends his life, once and for all, enter now, Jagat-Natha-s! Bearing a new name, spill new blood!" The crowd roared its approval, but Mukuro noticed the sad looks of some. Surely Hitoshi couldn't be hated across the Paths? He had never done anything to try to hurt anyone.
The crowd roared louder as another set of iron gates opened, signally the entrance of the bandaged man. Their roars only grew louder as Mukuro held his breath, waiting for him to come into view. Mukuro's eyes narrowed as he saw a lean human frame walk slowly into the arena. The right side of the man's face was bandaged heavily, hiding his right eye from view entirely, his other eye bore the kanji for seven, 七, which changed to the kanji for five, 五.
'His eye is similar to mine... It really is him.' Mukuro thought.
Mukuro watched as a surprised expression crossed the bandaged man's face, his head turning as if searching for something, but he was interrupted as Hitoshi suddenly charged at him, letting out a battle cry.
"I-I can't die here, bandaged man!" Hitoshi cried, "I'm sorry, I have to beat you!"
"No, I am sorry." The bandaged man replied softly, his voice carrying to Mukuro despite the distance. His voice sent shivers of fear down Mukuro's spine, it held much more power than the Maha-Rājān's. "We'll see eachother again in a couple of hundred years no doubt." Hitoshi brought down his blade with a shriek, but to Mukuro's despair, the bandaged man stopped it with a finger. Hitoshi froze in utter surprise, not pressing any further in his attack. "Truly, thank you for your help. Arrivederci."
The bandaged man launched his first attack against Hitoshi, sweeping a hand across the green-haired teen's stomach. Mukuro held his breath as nothing seemed to happen, but then he caught sight of wisps of black fading from the bandaged man's palm. Flames. Mukuro's heart stopped as Hitoshi's top half slid away, thudding onto the sand. He was dead before he hit the ground. His lower half soon followed, crumpling to the earth. The bandaged man closed his eye with a sad smile, moving to turn away from his fallen opponent, but Mukuro finally found his voice.
"HITOSHI!" He screamed in utter despair, hot tears running down his face. The bandaged man turned around suddenly, his open once again and widened in surprise. Mukuro began pushing against the crowd of prisoners, trying to find a path to his fallen friend, but a pair of strong arms stopped him. "Let go of me you Asuran bastards!" Mukuro yelled, squirming in the arms' grip.
"Be calm you damn fool." The unmistakable voice of the bandaged man silenced him, holding him in a tight grip in the shadows, speaking in hushed Italian. "I'm sorry about Hitoshi, but you'll see him again, in the next life. I cannot allow you to die before you have a chance to fight."
"I have little reason to live!" Mukuro retorted with a hiss.
"Elena." He replied simply, causing Mukuro's eyes to widen. The blue-haired man relaxed in his arms, letting out a defeated sigh, "If you die here, you'll be reincarnated, most likely in the Path of Humans, you're not strong enough to retain your memories, yet. You'll forget about her, she will be lost, forever."
"And there you have it! Felled in a single magnificent blow!" The voice of the Maha-Rājān thundered once again, "Even such an ancient and wise human was killed in a mere moment. And now... The monthly group battle! As many of you know, it consists of a collection of failed recruits battling it out, until a single man remains, thus regaining his honour. Although, this month, I have prepared a twist, to honour and appease our female audience!" Numerous cries and cheers were heard from the feminine portion of the crowd in response, "This batch will be solely male. And that's not all! They shall be fighting without loin, bare as they were a babe!" The female cheers increased and several of the more reserved women blushed with shy smiles. "Let us begin... Combatants, enter!" At his words, the Asuran guards parted, bringing Mukuro and the other men into view.
"They fight bare-handed." The bandaged man whispered, "You don't have to. With your illusionary training, you can create a weapon. Don't think too hard, let it come from your very soul. You can cover yourself up too, if you wish. But not yet, you need to retain the element of surprise. Creating illusionary clothing will only reveal your Mist Flame."
"Who are you? Why do you help me?" Mukuro frowned as the other men began to file forward.
"Because you deserve it." He replied, "My name is Masanori. For Hitoshi and for Elena... Win, Rokudo Mukuro." As he had his final say, the bandaged man disappeared, quicker than he had arrived. Mukuro began shuffling forward with the other combatants, earning himself confused stares for his sudden reappearance. Female cheers were heard as Mukuro stepped onto the central sands of the arena, and he looked up at the crowd to see various women follow his gaze, or what lay below it. Despite himself, Mukuro's face burned a bright red.
"Make a circle, trash!" An Asuran ordered, and the combatants complied, making a vague circular formation.
"Combatants, fight to regain your honour!" The Maha-Rājān boomed, "BEGIN!"
Mukuro ducked as a fist soared over his head. He turned to his right to see one of the heavily built men from earlier continuing his attack. Mukuro stayed low and sweeped his leg underneath the large man, knocking him on his back. Lifting a rough, sandy foot, Mukuro stamped down on the man's throat, crushing his trachea and killing him. Mukuro straightened himself, looking around at the continuing brawl. Remaining unnoticed, Mukuro slipped behind a man who was beating another on the ground, whose brains already painted the sand, long expired. Mukuro gripped the man's head firmly, twisting it sharply, breaking his neck. The numbers were dying down quickly, the larger fighters have the obvious advantage. A few people could use Flames, but they were defeated through brute force. Mukuro knocked another man to the sand, who didn't get up. Leaving him be, Mukuro looked around, seeing no-one else in sight. Was he the last one left? As if in answer to his question, Mukuro was knocked forwards as a fist collided with his temple, sending him face first into the bloody sand. Spitting out the sandy contents of his mouth, Mukuro rolled to his feet to face his attacker. It was the tattooed man from earlier, his knuckles covered in the blood of various others. The man grinned in recognition, sending another punch at Mukuro's stomach. Mukuro twisted his body, attempting to dodge, but the blow landed him squarely on the ribs. Mukuro gasped as he felt the rib crack from the force of the punch.
"This should be easy." The tattooed man smirked.
This man wasn't only strong, but he had predatory reflexes. Those animalistic tattoos... He had been to the Path of Animals, no doubt reborn as some form of predator. Even with Daemon's reflexes as a hitman, Mukuro couldn't keep up with the man's fast strikes. Closing his eyes, Mukuro drew out his Flame, his red eye pulsing beneath his eyelid. Mukuro began to form an illusion, but without any preconception of form or shape. Drawing from his very soul, just like the bandaged man had said, Mukuro felt a weapon form in his hand. Opening his eyes slowly, Mukuro saw he was holding a long ornate trident, its tip glinting dangerously. Mukuro passively created armour to cover himself, which was met by innumerable groans and boos from the female crowd, their disappointment evident.
"Where did you get a weapon?..." The tattooed man's eyes widened in shock, before his cocky grin returned, "No matter, I'll crush you either way." The man charged, but this time, with his Flame released. Despite his opponent's increased agility, Mukuro could outmanoeuvre the larger, feral man easily. Mukuro flipped the trident into a reverse grip, feeling a sense of familiarity with the weapon, swinging it in a large arc, Mukuro grinned as it passed through the man's neck like butter. Turning to face the remaining combatants, Mukuro found no-one. Silence filled the arena, interrupted only by the sound of a decapitated head thudding to the ground.
"We have a victor!" The Maha-Rājān's voice thundered, the roaring of the crowd following his words. "Human, what is your name?"
"Mukuro Rokudo." Mukuro replied in Sanskrit, "And I have a request. The Neutral Man. He was my close friend, my brother. I want to give him a proper burial."
"Making requests so soon?" The Maha-Rājān said with an arrogant laugh, "You are certainly bold. Very well. Bury him beneath these sands. Your new home, where you will fight your new brothers!" The crowd roared in response and Mukuro stared at all the men, Asurans and manner of creatures cheering for him. The crowd loved him, but moments earlier, they wouldn't have cared for his death.
Mukuro fought in the arena for years, sometimes meeting Masanori in passing, but never on the sands. Mukuro himself had become quite a crowd favourite, they cheered his name as he killed for them – or so they thought. He was fighting for his freedom. Masanori had told him that if he fought his master and killed him in the arena, he could be free. Citi-Pati had 'ownership' of Mukuro. The blue-haired man was using his fights as training, so that he would be ready to challenge Citi-Pati and win. When asked why he hadn't fought his master for freedom, Masanori simply pointed to the Maha-Rājān in explanation, telling Mukuro that the arena owned him, and thus the King himself. Even the Champion of the Red Sands was training.
Mukuro found one morning that his eye had changed. It now bore the kanji for four, 四. Masanori told him somewhat proudly that Mukuro had found his place in Asura, and had earned its mark. But the bandaged man's smile faded, knowing the sacrifices that had to be made to earn it. Mukuro found that his skills in combat were heavily augmented by Asuran mark, allowing him to release his usually transparent Mist Flames into a visible Flame upon his eye. Mukuro found, to his surprise, that he could switch between marks with remarkable ease, transitioning with mere thought.
After a couple of months, news finally came that Mukuro was to face Masanori in the arena. Masanori came to his personal cell, escaping his own with his Night Flame. Masanori urged him to challenge Citi-Pati, knowing he couldn't spare Mukuro's life in the arena. The next morning, Mukuro challenged Citi-Pati, who had recently become Mahārājnī, after the previous King's consort had died, by the Champion's hand in the arena. Citi-Pati was shocked and offended at Mukuro's challenge, believing that they had some sort of bond, as far as bonds between master and slave went, that is. Citi-Pati wielded a sword in each of his arms, being fully ambidextrous with all his limbs. Despite having some difficulty, Mukuro had advanced far enough to be more than a match for the fierce Asuran. But the real challenge came when an old foe joined Citi-Pati's side in battle, the Rain Flame breathing Naga. But by activating the mark of Naraka and solidifying his illusions, even the Naga's Flames of Tranquillity couldn't break down his enhanced illusions. The winged beast never saw its death coming, its skull incinerated in a great pillar of fire. Soon after, Citi-Pati lost the ability to breathe. Honouring the arena's rules, Mukuro was allowed to leave. As he stepped outside the roaring arena, who continued to chant his name, his Flame continued to circle his body in a fierce torrent of dizzying force. Something had changed within Mukuro, he felt... constant. An unending force, he felt his pulse slow as his mind cleared, his senses sharpening to an alarming degree.
"You did it." Masanori said, appearing out of nowhere, not even flinching at Mukuro's Flame.
"Masanori..." Mukuro murmured in acknowledgement, "You're outside the arena."
"I have reasons to confine myself." Masanori responded.
"You enjoy the killing?" Mukuro asked with narrowed eyes, "It would not be any surprise to me."
"I despise it. But it's worth my cause." Masanori said softly, "Your tone has certain implications, know that I especially regret killing Hitoshi, truly."
Stretching his mind, Mukuro sensed sincerity in Masanori's words, "Nevertheless, I can't forgive you." He almost whispered, "Not for a while, at least."
"I understand." Masanori smiled softly, before he caught Mukuro's gaze once again, "You feel different don't you?"
"How so?"
"I feel the same way." Masanori continued, "Like the whole world is clearer. This feeling, it makes you feel eternal, doesn't it?"
Mukuro paused in consideration, probing his senses, before his eyes widened slightly, "What has happened to me?"
"You've ascended." Masanori explained his pupils emitting streams of black, "Your power has grown beyond the limits of your soul, and as such, it has expanded. Your senses and already large human potential have grown accordingly. This kind of phenomenon only occurs rarely in Asura, due to its... special conditions - and almost never in any other Path. As you've seen, we can easily fight on the level of Asurans and beyond, we've become transcendent. The King told me that I fight like an Asuran – not exactly a compliment. But the power... enjoy it. It is... eye-opening."
Mukuro extended a hand, which Masanori took in a firm grip, shaking it with a smile. The two parted ways silently, Masanori disappearing in a wisp of shadowy Flame. Mukuro began the lengthy trek back towards the gate to Limbo, the bloodthirsty wanderers stumbling across the sands keeping their distance, as Mukuro's Flame continued to pulse unrestrained. The blue-haired man left Asura, staying in Limbo for as short a time as possible, so as to avoid digging up old memories. No longer feeling hesitation, Mukuro travelled the other Paths. His experiences in Asura had changed him, his purity of mind twisted and warped far beyond repair. Thoughts such as compassion and mercy evaded him, those concepts being mere obstacles in the way of greater goals. Travelling to Deva, Mukuro wasn't wavered by the temptations that the Path of Heavenly Beings offered, he wasn't so weak. Despite multiple invitations and summons, Mukuro neglected to visit Giotto. Sending any messengers back with polite and sarcastic refusals. After a what seemed like a casual stroll across Deva, Mukuro gained the mark of Deva, the kanji for six, 六. His unshattering resolve strengthened. Mukuro found that his manipulative skills had increased to the point where he could physically control most creatures, and read the majority of their thoughts when not controlling them.
Soon Mukuro became well known for his sadistic and unpredictable nature, as well as the insufferable smirk that often painted his face, coupled often with haunting laughs to the detriment of others. He was never seen without his trident close by, a weapon feared by many. The blue-haired man travelled next to Preta, the second birth-place of Hitoshi, long near forgotten. But when told that their mark was sought, the Pretans huffed and turned him away, telling him to stop being a idiot, since he already had it, and something about how it's unbecoming to spy on women's bath houses, to which another replied that it's more fun than sulking around, leading to an unenthusiastic brawl, which ended in sighs of resignation among the half-hearted Pretans. Mukuro merely smiled, recalling Daemon's dabbling in what he believed to be the afterlife, all those years ago. My my... His other half had little idea what this life and the next held. Finding the mark within himself quite easily, Mukuro left the depressing path, wondering how Hitoshi's personality remained in such a dreary place.
His next stop was the Path of Animals, in which he found himself reborn as a snake, specifically, a cobra, his scaly hood a substitute for his lack of illusions. A fitting form, all things considered. Swallowing his prey whole wasn't Mukuro's idea of a meal however, he much preferred to play with his food. He found that his sadistic tendencies continued, even as a snake. He hadn't met another snake since his mother and all her other children had long since died. When he did meet another snake, it was in the form of a harmless domesticated pet, a mere corn snake. Mukuro's cold-blooded smile would widen at the large, free portions of food that the snake's owner would feed it – and as such, Mukuro, who frequently stole the smaller snake's food, much to its displeasure, which was much less than its fear. In a flash of cruel inspiration, Mukuro came up with a way to get rid of the smaller snake, without killing it directly.
"Oya, little one." Mukuro called out, the young snake raising its head in fearful respect, "I have grown old and weak, but in my old age, I have discovered a great secret, one to eternal life that I do not have the willpower to complete."
"W-What is it?" The young snake asked with unblinking eyes, slivering closer to the elegant heterochromatic cobra, who despite his words was not marred by age whatsoever, having never shed his skin, his scales remaining pristine.
"You must place your own tail in your mouth, and attempt to consume your own body." Mukuro hissed, in chilling sibilance.
"I d-don't know..." The young snake murmured in doubt.
"Hmph... You would doubt me?" Mukuro asked in amusement, "Would you subject yourself to that human's vile offerings for the rest of your days?"
"I like master's food..." He objected hesitantly.
"Kufufu..." The cobra grinned, adopting a sad smile in an air of pity, "My heart aches for you. You've been cut off from the real world. Tastes beyond your imagination."
"But if I become immortal, I won't need food." The young snake observed in confusion.
"Ah, but eternity is the greatest taste of all." Mukuro replied, "Trust me, little one. I have attempted it once, but did not succeed, due to my old age. But I can tell you, that the journey – its tastes and pleasures... simply magnificent."
"Alright." The young snake said, suddenly determined, to which Mukuro smiled, watching as he positioned his tail in his mouth... and began to swallow.
"Don't stop, young one." Mukuro encouraged, slivering around the smaller snake, preventing him from pulling his tail free from his mouth. As the young snake drew its final breath, Mukuro's smile widened. But it didn't stay for long, as a certain enraged human discovered his beloved pet, dead. And assumed Mukuro responsible. Thus, taking a rather unpleasant looking shovel and ending the still grinning cobra's life.
Mukuro found himself back outside the bark-like gates to the Path of Animals, a headache forming due to the still his vivid shovel-wielding attacker. Finding the mark for the Path of Animals quickly, Mukuro set off to hone his skills, returning to Asura, only to find it under the passive rule of a new King, who had long since left, leaving the Path's inhabitants too afraid to attempt to usurp his rule. Masanori had finally defeated the King of Asura, taking his place and his freedom, but losing an arm.. The realm hadn't changed much though, it was still a world of war and death – the perfect place for Mukuro to train. To his disappointment, he had been somewhat forgotten since his departure, but such a thing only opened up the opportunity to forge a new reputation. Mukuro found some enjoyment in utilising the powers granted by the Path of Animals, allowing him to summon material beasts themselves to fight by his side, the familiar forms of snakes terrifying his enemies before their demise.
Days turned into months, and months to years. Time became twisted and blended together. Before he knew it, Mukuro had almost forgotten that which was most important to him. Thoughts began to plague him, ideas that he would have previously rejected. What was to blame for Elena death? Why did he have to become strong enough to find her and protect her, when he wanted so very much to just give up? The Mafia. It had to be. They were the reason he had to be strong. If he didn't, they would ruin everything, all over again. If there were no Mafia, there would be no pain. If there were no Mafia, Elena wouldn't have died then. He wouldn't have to have gone through every torture the Paths had to offer. Hitoshi would have been safe in Limbo, if... he were not alive, if Daemon didn't have a reason to abandon his body. If Mukuro hadn't been born...
The Mafia had to be destroyed, then when he found Elena, they could be happy.
Mukuro's ever-present grin finally faded. He had known it would come, but it was finally time to go back to the Path of Humans. A century or two had passed. Travellers spoke of great changes coming to humanity, technological marvels, the likes of which none of the Six Realms had ever seen. The rumours, of course, weren't the reason Mukuro was going there. Recently, Mukuro had been contacting Giotto to keep track of Elena's soul, but a few days ago, he had lost sight of her momentarily, signalling her death. Since Giotto couldn't track Elena's exact location, this was the perfect chance to find her... And the mark for the Path of Humans.
Confident in his strength, Mukuro entered the mossy gates.
Mukuro found himself ageless as he reached his 20s. He had truly ascended, beyond time, beyond human. He had gained the mark of Humans before his tenth birthday, his illusionary capability already restored. It should have made him smile, as he usually did, but his parents had been terrified of him, considering him an abomination. Numerous priests had been contacted, a different one coming to the house every other week. They had assumed he was possessed by the devil himself. That much had made Mukuro smile, since he technically was. It had been the eventual suicide of his parents that had caused Mukuro's smile to fade once again, for the first time in years. To his secret delight, Mukuro was born in Japan. As a child, retaining the skills of a 300 year old, he naturally excelled, being proclaimed a genius, at least by those who didn't proclaim him the spawn of Satan first. The scientists of the early 1940s were fascinated by Mukuro's unique heterochromia, and the shifting kanji emblazoned upon his right eye. Eventually, with a war approaching, the scientists focused elsewhere, specifically upon weapons of mass destruction, as were all the scientists of the world at the time.
Soon, the war ended and the bombs fell. Post war Japan began to rebuild. By 1947, Japan was no longer an Empire. Mukuro found the changes satisfying, but with all the changes going on around him, Mukuro remained a constant. An ageless being, shunned by others, his smile never falling from his face. Even as the 50s arrived, and Mukuro managed to obtain one of the few cars on the road, with public transport becoming more popular. Never once did Mukuro forget about Elena. But not once, did he find her.
It was in the winter of 1985 that they found him, the bearers of Mafia law – the Vindice.
"Daemon Spade." The towering Vindice echoed, his long black hair flowing from his top hat. Mukuro looked for a way out of the dark Osaka alleyway that they had cornered him in, the Vindice catching up to him easily with their Night Flames. "In accordance with Mafia spiritual law, fragmented souls must be purged. You thought you could evade us in the Paths, but we always find you."
"Oya, they're still calling me that?" Mukuro grinned, "I've really ought to give it to you, you're fast. But are you strong? I've got some gauge of your strength, a tough guy with a Flame just like yours – called himself Masanori." Mukuro smirked as the Vindice's eyes widened between his bandages, "Not a friend of yours then? I guess that makes sense, he wasn't so... intrusive."
"Where is he?" The Vindice asked in a chilling tone, his eyes narrowed.
"Kufufu... Last I heard, he had killed the Mahārājnī, and replaced him..." Mukuro grinned.
"The Asuran King?" The Vindice murmured in disbelief, "Is he still in Asura?"
"If you're going to 'purge' me, then why would I divulge anything that I know?" Mukuro laughed, letting his Flame flit between his fingers, ready to leap into combat at any moment.
"Very well." The Vindice's tone evened, "Daemon Spade, prepare to meet your end."
"It's Rokudo Mukuro." The blue-haired man smiled, materialising his trident before the words left his mouth.
Mukuro projected an illusion of himself, leaping to the side as the Vindice's chain soared towards his previous position. In a flash, Mukuro had boosted himself behind the tall Vindice, thrusting his trident forwards. Before it could meet its mark however, a small flash of black and white knocked it aside.
"Having trouble?" A strange voice asked. Mukuro looked down to find a strange looking Arcobaleno at his feet, its face covered entirely in bandages. "I suppose it's understandable, after all he has... 'ascended'."
"His illusions are powerful." The taller Vindice grunted, "I couldn't see through them at all."
"Don't worry, I'll take care of him." The Arcobaleno said, "Although, I may have remove my cloak to do so... How troublesome." Mukuro's eyes widened as a jet black portal opened beneath his feet, taking away the floor beneath him. Mukuro grunted as he hit the ground hard, but unfamiliar ground.
"Now that you're here, I can deal with you without any distractions." The bandaged Arcobaleno said with a smirk in his voice.
"Oya, what do you have planned for me Arcobaleno-kun?" Mukuro grinned, standing up straight.
"You're quite different from the Daemon Spade we once knew." The Arcobaleno observed.
"Because I'm not him." Mukuro growled, "Maybe it's the hair? Well, if you see Daemon again, tell him he has to change his. After all, I'm the one who can really pull it off."
"Enough. Say goodbye to your transcendence." The Arcobaleno said, raising a small bandaged hand, causing dozens of chains to fly towards Mukuro, quickly wrapping around his body, restraining him completely. Mukuro felt his Flame tighten and condense, finding himself unable to release it.
"What?..." Mukuro gasped, his muscle tightening painfully under the grip of the chains.
"These are the very same chains we use to nullify the powers of our prisoners. Only very rarely do we use them outside the Vendicare prison, it's a very dangerous process, when used against one... Not yet imprisoned."
"I don't rely solely upon Flames, Vindice." Mukuro murmured dangerously, his right iris shifting to the kanji for 3, 三. Snakes sprang up from the ground, slivering towards the Arcobaleno swiftly, their fangs bearing dangerously, but before they could meet their target, a second set of chains flashed downwards from above, cutting the snakes cleanly in half.
"Snakes..." The Arcobaleno murmured, as they larger Vindice landed soundlessly to his side, retracting his chains. "The rumours were true then. Total mastery of the Paths..."
"It's no trouble, Lord Bermuda." The tall Vindice muttered.
"He's a collared dog now, Jager-kun." Bermuda chuckled, "Put him down now... I've grown tired of his chatter."
"Very well." Jager's eyes narrowed, raising a large bandaged hand.
"Very well indeed." Mukuro sighed, shifting uncomfortably beneath Bermuda's chains, "I can't seem to disoldge these chains of yours, and my Flame has narrowed and lost most of its density... It would have been nice if I had met Elena... One last time, at the very least."
"You've lost your chance I'm afraid." Bermuda said in a low voice, "Fragments such as yourself have no place in the cycle. You won't be coming back here again."
A smile of pure resignation painted Mukuro's delicate features, "We'll see. Best get it over with, ne?"
"Goodbye, Rokudo Mukuro-kun." Bermuda said, acknowledging the fragmented soul for a mere moment before Jager's chain impaled itself deeply within Mukuro's flesh. The illusionist's breath caught in his throat, blood running freely from his mouth. But despite everything, his face broke out into a wide smirk.
"Kufufu... See you soon, Vindice." Mukuro laughed, before the life left his heterochromatic eyes, whilst the smile in his eyes remained.
"Hmm... I thought I might see you here, Mukuro. You almost didn't make it back, it's been almost six years."
Mukuro tilted his head back with a lazy smile, finding a bandaged man kneeling over him, his face taking on a look of consideration. "Masanori." Mukuro acknowledged. "I've really gone downhill, haven't I? Asura... That's were my soul belongs now then? Kufufu. If Elena could see me now..."
"If? You will find her. But Bermuda has really messed you up. If I don't remove those chains, you'll die. Even then, re-entering the Path of Humans will be dangerous, he's pretty much cut your soul in two, despite it already being fragmented. You've lost your transcendence, I'm sorry." Masanori explained.
"Masanori, just let me die..." Mukuro chuckled, "Elena deserves better. I'm sure she's found people to love in her lifetimes."
"You're wrong." Masanori corrected, with a smile, "She never did. She's going to be alone, until you find her."
Mukuro's eyes widened, then closed tight, his brow furrowed into a tight frown.
"Do it." Mukuro growled. "And make damn sure that I'm born in the same time as her."
"Of course." Masanori smiled warmly, "I'll see you again in around fourteen years, but you won't remember me as I am, at the very least. Your memory is fading already."
"Masanori... I can't forget-"
"You won't forget her." Masanori said firmly, plunging a Flame-coated fist into Mukuro's chest, grasping onto the dark chains around his heart tightly. "Goodbye Rokudo Mukuro." He whispered, pulling the chains free, the last thing Mukuro felt before life began once again.
17 Years Later
"Rokudo Mukuro, eh?" Julie smirked, "So that's the name you chose for yourself? That's rather... literal. But you don't look much like a corpse to me, I'd say you look rather alive for half a man."
"What are you talking about?" Mukuro frowned.
"You, silly." Julie grinned, "Ah, excuse me, I should introduce my vessel, it's a common courtesy of course. He is Katou Julie."
"Vessel? Who are you then?" Mukuro growled, in growing confusion.
"Let me show you." Julie's smile disappeared, his expression darkening, "I will shed this personality and show you my real mask."
Both teens' eyes widened as mist that appeared to be both sandy brown and indigo in colour hid the man from view. The mist cleared within moments revealing a radically different appearance.
Mizuki's eyes widened as she saw an almost exact doppelgänger to the equally shocked man to her side.
"I am Daemon Spade, nice to meet you." Daemon grinned, "Again."
Mukuro backed away slightly as his head began to ache, the pain slowly increasing. As he stepped back, Mizuki's face came into view, causing Daemon's eyes to widen in utter shock.
"Let me see your face, step into the light." Daemon said to Mizuki in a soft tone, "Please..."
Mizuki reluctantly stepped into the light, much to Mukuro's despair, but Daemon's expression of shock only worsened.
"E-Elena..." He choked, before turning to Mukuro with rage in his eyes. "How did you find her?! You! You... of all the scum across existence... A mere broken fragment! You're nothing! You don't deserve her..."
"My name is Mizuki..." Mizuki almost whispered, but Daemon turned to her with sad eyes.
"You have taken on a new name, but you're still the same woman I loved all those years ago." He whispered, causing Mizuki's eyes to widen in fear. Who was this man? None of this made any sense.
"I really don't understand what you're talking about – agh... But, I-I don't know you, so please, just let us go!" Mukuro begged, clutching his head as the pain continued to increase.
"The memories will come." Daemon glared at the former Mist Guardian, "You'll remember who you once were soon enough."
"I really d-don't know what you're talking about!" Mukuro protested, his fists clenched in anger and pain, "Are we related or something?"
"RELATED?!" Daemon yelled in fury, "You are a scourge, shit scraped from my boots. We share no common blood. I never had any descendants. If I did, I would have died happily alongside Elena and you wouldn't be among them!"
Mukuro stood frozen in fear, the pain having reached a point where it stung to think too much. He could hear a ringing in his ears, deafening him. Mizuki went to his side with in concern as he fell to his knees, the pain becoming too much to bear.
Mukuro raised his head, to see Daemon standing over him. He didn't think he would hear the blue-haired man's words, but he saw his lips move and heard the words as clear as day – as if they were thoughts in his own head.
"Become a corpse." Daemon said slowly, each of the six syllables resounding clearly in Mukuro's head. The teenager watched in horror as Daemon materialised a large ornate scythe out of seemingly nothing, raising the large weapon above his head.
Daemon removed his gloves, flexing his fingers with a fearsome grin. Daemon moved his free hand towards Mukuro's throat, unaware of what would be his downfall.
Their skin touched.
In an instant, both men were blinded in a flash of white, finding themselves... Elsewhere.
"Daemon... Hisashiburida ne?" Mukuro laughed, grabbing Daemon's wrist with a dangerous smirk on his face. He raised his head, his blue right iris slowly seeping away to be replaced by a deep red. A familiar roku kanji emblazoned itself upon it, a deep black.
"Where are we?" Daemon asked in panic, his eyes wide as he looked around as his surroundings. They were surrounded by impossibly green grass and standing below an impossibly blue sky. Beside the two men was a pristine lake, completely transparent, yet empty beneath the surface.
"This was my home for half a century." Mukuro began, gesturing absently at the landscape with his free ahd as he got to his feet, "I know it down to every blade of grass, every unchanging cloud in the sky. This is my mind. Thanks to you, I've returned from my brief hiatus. Tsunayoshi meant well, but it really just... wasn't for me."
"H-How?" Daemon asked in disbelief. "I was told you were a mere fragment."
"Oh, but I am." Mukuro grinned, "And so are you."
"Don't talk nonsense." Daemon spat, "You've found Elena, but I will never let you have her."
"Likewise." Mukuro smiled, "But it seemed we're in agreement there, at least. So... We're not so different after all, ne?"
"What do you propose then?" Daemon asked, with a tilt of his head, his eyes narrowed.
"A union." Mukuro said simply, "Two fragments becoming one."
"Why would I do that?" Daemon growled.
"It's about time we both settled down, don't you think?" Mukuro smiled, "We've spent far too long running. Now we have reason to stand still. I know you love her just as much as I do, and she needs us. Vongola is stronger than ever. The heart of the Vongola is what holds it together. That's what Elena believed in. Mizuki is the very same soul, but broken through lost love. Would you deny her that by making her choose?"
"No... No, I wouldn't." Daemon said, shaking his head, before locking eyes with Mukuro, "What will happen to our respective memories?"
"They'll become one, we will become one. A single conscience." Mukuro explained. "You'll see everything I've gone through."
"And you in return." Daemon murmured with a reluctant smile, "Come then, Mist Guardian, let's get this over with."
Mukuro returned his smile, extending a hand, "I hope you don't mind if we keep my name, it'll be easier for her." Daemon nodded, taking Mukuro's hand firmly, encompassing both men in light once again.
"I didn't think I would ever see you again." A voice whispered weakly, delicate hands wrapping themselves around his waist.
"Mizuki-chan, it's fine, it's over." Mukuro smiled down at her, running a careful hand through her hair.
"Yes, it's almost over." Mizuki replied, closing her eyes with a warm smile, as Mukuro continued to caress her hair.
"Mizuki-chan?" Mukuro asked hesitantly.
"Daemon..." Mizuki whispered, staring up at him, "Do you remember me?"
"Elena..." Mukuro breath caught in his throat, as realisation struck him, "You remember – remember... before?" Elena nodded softly, cupping Mukuro's cheek with a single hand. "Your memories are back for good?" Mukuro asked hopefully.
"I... Don't know." Elena said uncertainly, "Mizuki, that's who I was, before?" Mukuro nodded dumbly, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. "Do you love her?"
"I... She's you, so yes, I love her." Mukuro answered uneasily.
"But she isn't me, my love." Elena began, with a sad smile. "I'm dead. She's the one to hold your heart now. Even if I'm not there to do it, I don't want to love you for the man you were, I want to love you for the man you are. Don't let me remember a past I've never lived, I want to be loved for who I am too."
"You can't stay then?" Mukuro asked, his tears running free.
"Just a little longer, my love." Elena whispered, resting her head on Mukuro's chest.
"Alright, I'll be here until you leave." Mukuro whispered, his heterochromatic orbs staring down at her, full of pained adoration. He wrapped his slender arms around her, holding onto her tightly.
"He returned after all, then..." The taller one murmured as they observed Namimori town through a veil of Black Flame.
"Bringing an old friend with him. Mukuro has proved himself an interesting tool." The much shorter one said from the shoulder of the taller one.
"What about the Vongola and their allies? They'll likely seek to protect him." The taller one asked.
"Then we can use them against him." The shorter one said. "This is it, Jager-kun. We will finish Masanori, once and for all."
A/N: The Vindice finally arrive, headed by Bermuda.
Well, those long chapters were Mukuro's life story. Sorry if it was confusing. Let me know if you have any questions.
Here's a few explanations of some of the weird things in the chapter:
Samsaran is derived from Samsara, which is Sanskrit (that's an old language) for the cycle of life and death. Mukuro is referred to as such, because when he died, he went to Limbo and not any particular path, much like the 'bandaged man' before him, hence Samsaran.
Maha-Rājān means 'great king'. Mahārājnī means consort of the king pretty much. So that guy was the Asuran King's consort, obviously. Citi-Pati means 'funeral pyre lord'. Apparently a lot of English words are derived from sanskrit. Like bandana... and couch.
"By Toutatis" What's this mean? Well, Hitoshi was born in what he said was once known as France. Around his time of life, it was known as Gaul, and the Gaulish had a Gaelic Druidic religion in which they worshipped Toutatis, who protected their tribes. Putting in details like this is both somewhat useless and fun.
'Hisashiburida ne' = It's been a long time.
Oh yeah, can anyone guess who Hitoshi might be? What character has green hair, is a genius, was born in France, has a Mist Flame, has a master-student relationship with Mukuro and two thumbs? It's pretty obvious, right? Except for the personality, I hope someone can guess, anyway.
Just read the latest manga chapter. As of the current time, that would be chapter 406. I kind of like how it turned out, especially with the way Amano handled the curse, it's just 'nice'. People seemed to want some big battle, but I remember how Reborn! was originally, very light-hearted. It was nice to see things so peaceful, even if just for a little while.