Kyouya watches for something more in the sakura, perhaps grenades hidden inside, but soon refocuses back on Mukuro once he ascertains no other threat.
Kyouya takes a step forward and stu mb les.
Mukuro is suddenly just there and slams a foot into Kyouya's stomach. Kyouya hits the ground, rolls backwards over his shoulder and tries to get to his feet but his knees buckle and he's left sitting on the ground, slumped over like his arms are weighed down as Mukuro approaches.
Kyouya shakes his head but it makes him dizzier. Is it drugs? A gas? The screens are screaming at him that he's sick.
Mukuro grabs Kyouya, drags him off the ground, and Kyouya doesn't quite remember what happens after.
Kyo ya co me s to again on his back, maybe only a few minutes later, and he's bleeding and sore and his tonfas are out of reach. Mukuro talks and talks and talks but Kyouya doesn't hear anything, sees only through black spots in his vision.
Kyouya hauls himself up, feet spread to keep him steady despite the swaying. He's sick. The room is spinning. Mukuro comes closer with a smirk.
H e bl in k s and he loses more time. He's across the room now, closer to the rotting couch, lying on his side. There's blood under his nails and Mukuro is hunched slightly, hand to his ribs.
Kyouya starts to sit up, barely raises his head off the ground, and then slumps back down. He's not sure if it's the injuries or the sickness but he can't breathe properly. He's sick. He tries to say something, maybe, but there's not enough air left to make a sound.
Mukuro straightens up with a wince and a laugh, rolls his shoulders and approaches. "If you were smart, you'd stay down, but I suppose no one ever accused you of being smart."
Kyouya inhales, spits out blood and pushes off the ground.
Mukuro keeps the blank expression on his face as he paces the room, crushing petals under his shoes and smearing the blood across the floor as he walks.
Mukuro hums but sounds a bit out of breath. He's limping slightly. He's stalling. "I didn't want to use the sakura," he says conversationally. "But you did it to yourself, so far be it from me to do the honourable thing."
Kyouya watches the purple-haired teenager move about, too aware how his body is protesting. He's sick. He doesn't respond to the deliberate silence, or it's more like he can't.
Can't find the words.
Can't quite understand what this teenager is saying.
He tries to focus, tries counting but loses the numbers and starts again and he doesn't know where he is but he's just really fucking pissed off.
Kyouya throws himself at the other teenager when Mukuro passes by yet again in his pacing. Mukuro turns and easily catches the punch, smirking at how jerky and slow the movement was.
It's only then, when Mukuro feels like he's winning enough to relax, that Kyouya moves with all the speed he can muster.
Kyouya gets a knee into the pineapples stomach and an elbow to the back of his neck. It's still slow – far too slow, and the only reason Mukuro didn't defend was because he was caught off guard.
Mukuro sweeps his leg out and Kyouya barely manages to catch himself on his hands and knees. Then the room floods with more sakura, building higher and higher until the floor is entire covered with the flowers.
Kyouya tries to get up again but the room spins and the floor rises and falls underneath him. Mukuro grabs Kyouya's shirt, pulls him up and slams him into a wall, a glare on Mukuro's face.
Kyouya grabs the teen's forearms, trying to use the contact to steady himself, but his body doesn't obey. He's sick. He slumps in the hold, Mukuro the only thing keeping him standing.
"I don't even want you," Mukuro scoffs. "Who are you? You just keep getting in the way. Learn to stay down-"
A sickle bone snaps out from Kyouya's sleeve and pierces into Mukuro's cheek. The Mist jerks back and immediately tries to take it out but Kyouya is faster.
"Release."
Mukuro's body jerks as the spike snaps out into a sphere, ripping through skin and muscle as it tears apart Mukuro's cheek and then falls to the floor, bloodied. Mukuro makes a choked noise, hands dropping Kyouya to cover his face as he staggers back.
The instinctive illusion that catches Kyouya is heavy and stifling.
Reality quickly falls a wa y
Kyouya thinks he...maybe, but - everything' ha zy. It's difficult to remember why he's here. He's sick. The thoughts spin around and make his tongue to heavy to ask but when he goes to gulp them down, they fizzle into nothing, leaving behind burn marks.
It does bring Kyouya back, just a little bit, because he concentrates on the taste and then all he can taste is blood.
Mukuro has backed away, hands on his torn cheek, illusions knitting him back together. Sakura is still layered over the ground. Mukuro is being cautious.
Kyouya is sitting on the floor where Mukuro dropped him, propped up awkwardly against the wall. Kyouya's fingers twitch and he summons another sickle bone to his hand. Mukuro tenses, gathering Mist flames around him defensively.
Kyouya doesn't have time to be sick so he punctures his own neck with the sickle bone and Mukuro's shocked expression is the last th in g he
s
e
e
s
.
