Hi!
((So, I was going to write something yesterday, but I was a little preoccupied. My sister is moving back in, so I have to sort my room out to fit another bed. (yay) I then got distracted by the GIHUGEIC spider that was IN MY BEDROOM. (it was massive, and I don't like spiders. At all.)
But here I am, with a story for your pleasure! )) – this was written some time last year.
But, my sister has moved out (again), I have a whole room to myself (for once), and we are all of school because of the corona virus! But seriously guys, please stay safe.
I got this thought at about 10 last night – if Naruto and Sasuke are reincarnated brothers, then does the NaruSasu pairing count as incest?
I first wrote this story after reading mokona-pyuh's story – Of the Dead (Say nothing but good). I really liked it, and I am hoping for a sequel.
It IS a Skull origin story, and also talks a tiny bit about his time as one of the Arcobaleno. I read the first bit back, and it seems a bit like a Winter Soldier origin story, which I might write in the future. Or a young Harry Potter story. Either would be interesting.
Part of the reason I wrote this, was because I was like "Isn't it a bit obvious that Skull actually knows more than he was saying, because he is COVERED in the colour of his Flame, and nobody realizes this! He wears purple like Reborn does yellow, and Fon red! Ffs people!
Can yOU find the 2 star wars references? CommenT if you can!
I DO NOT OWN KHR.
WARNING FOR SWEARING AND MURDER.
Story Of The Post – High Flight by mokona-pyuh. It is a very good Harry-is-Skull story.
So, on with the story!
SKULL
He does not have a name.
Experiment, they call him. Soldier. Asset. Thing.
Other, different people that he doesn't think he is supposed to hear, call him something else.
Freak. Abomination.
And so began his life.
It always hurt.
His cell was hard, all sharp edges and harsh lights – either that or a chilling darkness which ate away at his mind.
Not that it really mattered.
His mind was as sharp and as hard as his cell – and just as empty. He knew nothing.
A blank slate.
They assigned him a number. 2189.
Over time, he grew to feel more, to grow.
And then they sent him out to kill.
The scientists who worked on him used a lot of technical jargon and bull. It all boiled down to one thing, though.
The Experiment was Immortal.
He knew vaguely what that meant. The Esterano would keep him – their pet killer – forever.
Something inside of him didn't like that. Runrunrungetfree it told him.
With skills he had been taught, he calmed the source of the itch by thinking about how to murder every single one of the scientists as he escaped this hellhole. If he went about his escape wildly, then they would know his true capabilities, and they would chain him even more.
The dull warmth in his chest snarled at the thought.
But if he stayed quiet, if they thought him broken, if he hid and allowed himself to be chained just a little longer…
Then he could escape. And he would kill any scientist who tried to reclaim him. (reclaim him. As though he was their property.)
In the dark, the Experiment grinned. It was not a nice grin.
There came a day when they did not watch him as closely, when the harshness relented a little.
Still he waited.
They relaxed more and more.
It took nearly ten years, but one day, they forgot to lock his cage. (ohhowhehatedithowhewantedthemalltoburn)
2189 killed all in his path, then set the lab on fire.
Burn it all and salt the ashes.
2189 knew that his appearance was discerning.
With deep black hair and dark black eyes, he would be easily identified in an instant, especially with his invalid-white skin, marred only by the thick, ropy scars that ran across it.
(the flimsy hospital-style gown didn't help, either.)
So he observed the population of a nearby village, crouched out of sight.
Throughout the course of that day, he saw so many strange people and heard strange voices (the only good they ever did was teach him languages).
He saw a group of people with death-pale faces and smirked.
Maybe hiding wouldn't be so difficult, after all.
Later that night, he plotted.
He quietly broke into a drugstore and grabbed what he needed. He then broke into a few clothing shops for some items of clothing. A particular item caught his eye, so he shoved it into a bag.
That item would change his life.
Sometimes, the Experiment had been forced to use hotels as a part of his cover. Therefore, he had a credit card, and knew how to use it.
Rather than simply book into a hotel (which would lead them right to him) he went to around ten hotels and booked into them all, using aliases and the credit card.
He travelled to the next town over and booked a room at the seventh hotel he saw – he used (stolen) cash and a completely new alias.
Whilst in captivity, he had been careful to just show neutrality towards things, so that they couldn't track him by his habits when he finally did escape.
Those habits had been what had kept him (partially) sane.
As he sat on the bed of the room, a sense of a weight bring lifted assailed him, and e lay on his back with a sigh.
And he laughed as, for the first time in his life, he felt freedom.
After a few minutes, he got up and went to the bathroom, taking off the prison outfit as he did so. He shoved it in the backpack he stole, and resolved to use it to start fires.
After he first hot bath he could ever remember (they had merely sprayed him with a cold hose when he wanted to get clean) he toweled himself dry and began his new look.
First thing – the hair. It was around mid-back, because they hadn't given him a knife to chop it with for over a year. (the last time somebody other than himself had attempted to cut his hair, he had accidentally broken their spine when they had made a sudden movement. So he had been given a knife once in a while, and he had merely chopped at the nape of his neck.)
But now, he carefully chopped his hair until he achieved an even, tousled look.
Then he brought out the hair dye.
Once his hair was finished, he began the make-up, mimicking the 'Goths' that he had seen earlier.
Dark make up, to match his hair. Pale face, to match his own.
And when he looked into that mirror, a stranger stared back.
He looked at this stranger, who was pretending to be him, and smirked in amusement at his face.
"I am… Skull."
The scientists (hateful bastards) had made sure that he could do anything – even ride a motorcycle.
He increased his inventory of tricks and joined the circus.
It was ironic, in a way (not as ironic as the tragedy of Darth Plageuis the Wise, though). The scientists had always told him to remain hidden, unnoticeable in the shadows.
(A ghost – is he even truly alive?)
Now, though… he was even more obvious, just flashy rather then scary. (or rather, piss-your-pants terrifying) Rather than being unobtrusive, he made himself stand out more. Instead of hiding within the shadows, he bathed in the light that blinded his pursuers. Hidden in plain sight.
He'd had a few close calls over the years, but their eyes had always just slipped right over him. He doubted that the now-purple eyes helped (one day, he had crashed, and the warmth had come out. He no longer needed hair dye).
Then HE came.
"I have come to offer you a place… within the Strongest Seven," the man-who-was-not-a-man told him.
Before his arrival, Skull slapped on his most obnoxious, irritating personality. Viper (apparently the only one with common fucking sense) saw through it quite quickly, though, and they spent most of their free time eyeballing Luce (no one is that genuine. No one. It really creeped them out.) or laughing at the other's obliviousness.
In their discussions, Skull admitted that yes, he had encountered the mafia before, but that he would never willingly speak of it.
(Viper saw a bit of their brokenness that day, and defended them from the rest from then on.) (in return, Skull got her blackmail on all of the other Arcobaleno – except for that creepy bitch Luce that they were starting to believe wasn't actually human.)
Then Luce betrayed them all (he KNEW they should never have trusted her!)
He was shrunken and drained, and he could feel their cage closing in on him again, trying to shatter his very soul-
-A little of his mask cracked that day, once the other Arcobaleno found him curled into a ball screaming, but not in the shrill way that they were accustomed to.
It was a terrible, heartwrenching scream of soul-deep agony and recognition, but what the others were most interested in was the fact that Viper, the one that they thought wouldn't piss on them if they were on fire (unless they offered them payment), was the one who ignored their own distress and went to comfort Skull (Willingly. Without payment. Viper.)
(…does not compute.)
(What they didn't know was that in their time together, Skull had let slip a few details about his past… so Viper was a little protective.) (As in, kill it with fire protective.)
The glare that Viper leveled at the gazing (and gaping) Arcobaleno was so poisonous that their souls withered and died on the spot. If they saw their actual face, then they might have actually just dropped to the ground dead on the spot – hmmm, maybe Viper ought to glare at the Bastard in the Iron Hat like that.
They got the hell outta Dodge.
Luce died, and Aria took the Sky Pacifier.
The Arcobaleno – who had scattered to the four winds after the Fated Day – met briefly to meet the new Cursed of their number (as well as expressing their sympathies at being given the Curse by her own mother).
Aria's nonchalance about the 'necessary sacrifice' and about how 'it was an honour to bear the Pacifier' had the Arcobaleno scattering again pretty quickly.
(Needless to say, none of them attended Luce's funeral.)
They each lived a cursed life over the years, although Viper (now Mammon) and Skull kept in contact, especially when Mammon became the Varia Mist Officer, and Skull began invading Mafia Land every year (Colonnelo's FACE the first time that he turned up with Oodako was hilarious – Viper had it in their BLACKMAIL BOOK (yes, it deserved the capitals).
Skull had, over the years, let a nit more slip about his past, causing Viper to be very pissed off at the Esterano. (and if they happened to 'slip' and 'accidentally' give Mukuro Rodukuro a couple of ideas on how to brutally murder scientists whrn he ventured through the Paths of Hell, well-
-it wasn't their fault.)
(Skull hugged them extra hard when he heard Viper had caused a few of his fantasies to be fulfilled, and gave them the best strawberry milk that money could buy.)
When the Bastard in the Iron Hat turned up again, claiming that he could 'free' them from the Curse, they were all skeptical.
Skull most of all.
He knew this tactic, the scientists had used it before until he had wised up. Pretend to offer freedom… only to let your prey walk into a far larger trap.
He forfeited to Mammon early on, and stayed to watch out of solidarity (and apprehension. He would be there for Mammon when things went wrong.)
They were free.
Reborn's current student (a fluffy-haired wimp that Skull's civilian persona had more balls than) had done it. Had freed them.
Free at last.
But what to do now?
-END-
There will be a sequel at some point, with BAMF!Protective!Arcobaleno, and them TEARING APART the Esterano, because Skull is THEIRS AND NO ONE ELSE'S.
It's time that the rest of the Mafia learnt that.